Whoops, wrong addy I used. I'll be moving all my fics to a new web
server in a few days too, so stay tuned!



=====



Prologue



      It seemed like nothing had changed; like nothing could change in
the little greenhouse we called our school. The sun still shone every
day; bright, surrounded by a field of white and blues early in the day,
orange and framed by lesser shades of oranges and reds in the afternoon.
Students still milled into school, filling the air with light
conversation in their wake. The bells still tolled, and the impossibly
tall tower that housed them still cast its shadow across the fields,
across the courtyards, across the forest that lay in the heart of the
campus.

      It seemed like nothing had ever changed here, in Ohtori Academy.
There was no trace of change, of transformation.

      There seemed no sign that we lived in the shadow of a revolution.



In the Shadow of Revolution



Act I

Part 1





- One -



      We were the chick, and the world was our egg. But none of us ever
wanted to leave, to break the shell; none of us seemed to know that
there was an Outside to the Inside we had spent our lives in.

      It never seemed important before, at least, not to me -- at the
moment the most important thing to me was hurrying to class without
ruining my meticulously arranged hair. Politely I responded to greetings
of 'Good morning'; I nodded at the customary references to the fine
weather we were having. The weather was always fine, except during days
when no one felt like having fine weather. I'd noticed this before, but
never thought to bring it up. Perhaps I should have recognized those
thoughts as a sign, long before the others knew about the way I was
different from all the rest. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

      Wakaba. Shinohara Wakaba. That is my name. It has been my name for
as long as I can remember, just as I know I have had parents for as long
as I can remember. But I can't remember the last time I've been home,
and it makes me wonder if I've ever been home at all, sometimes. It's
the oddest thing, I know -- of course I'd been home, otherwise, it
wouldn't be home, now, would it?

      The bell sounded and I made onto school grounds in the nick of
time. I'd never been late before, and it would have been a shame to
tarnish such a spotless record. Had I ever been absent? I couldn't
recall, and neither could anyone else -- so did it matter in the end?

      No, it didn't, I told myself -- but I didn't believe it. It
disturbed me to think that something could cease to exist if it ceased
to be remembered.

      But why did it matter? In the end, why did it matter?



      The teacher scraped her lecture onto the blackboard as I idly
waited for the bell to ring, even though we were only halfway through an
hour-long class. Amid English personal pronouns and tenses and
conjugation I swept my gaze across the classroom.

      My eyes failed to rest upon any single face for very long. I felt
like I was looking at a hastily-drawn crowd scene; broad, charcoal
strokes seemed to fill in whole figures, without thought for outline or
boundary. Uniforms conveyed sex but not much else, and even that blurred
in the distinctions my mind refused to make for anyone in the room.

      Did anyone else look over me and find my face filled in, my
features drawn in a few sparse lines? Did anyone else harbor the secret,
shameful fear that she was not the main character in the story of her
own life? That somewhere in our midst, someone else was living the story
this place, this time was meant to tell? Was anyone else afraid that the
story had already played out, and we lived on merely for the story's
denouement?

      Then my eyes fell on him.

      Why had I never noticed him before? He seemed to listen intently
to the teacher, but only for the sake of listening; even watching him
from the outside I could feel his mind wandering, beyond the confines of
the classroom. His uniform was a deep blue, bordered in red, and his
pink hair seemed to bring me to the brink of remembering something that
had hidden itself in my mind, so deeply as to leave only the faintest
trace, the vaguest feeling. He wore a white signet ring on his finger
the insignia of which I could not make out... Perhaps the school
insignia? And the scent of roses... I could have sworn I smelled the
perfume of roses whenever he was around.

      What was his name? Mikage. Mikage Souji. He had joined the class
only a week or so ago, and it was said that he was a genius -- that
explained his lack of interest in the subject. Everyone in class admired
him, and he would have probably been popular if he wasn't always so
aloof. No, that wasn't quite right. A sense of loss always hung around
him, and it made him seem both fascinating and distant at the same time.

      I paused. Why was I only remembering these things now? It was as
if they were being made up as I thought about them, like the world was
in the middle of creation, like the world was being completed, even as I
watched it happen.

      A strange thought occurred to me, yet compelling in its oddity,
and some part of me felt that it was true simply because it was so
strange. The world was not being completed.

      It was being remade.





- Two -



      "Hello, Wakaba," she said to me as I passed her in the hallway, as
she left the music room where she practiced the piano every day; she
spoke to me as though we had been speaking to each other our whole
lives.

      I knew who she was. Everyone did; it was in the nature of who she
was. She was friendly in a way that made people wary of her; she was
often quite polite, unfailingly so, but in such a pointed way that a
part of you always asked what her motives were. Though her talent for
playing the piano was renowned throughout the Academy, she was more
famous for her other exploits. The way she went through her men, coldly,
unflinchingly, did not deter her unending throng of suitors, inevitably
always the type that would bring whispers about her lack of
discrimination behind her back. Not that she was unaware of the gossip
she stirred up. She reveled in it. She seemed to be looking for scandal
all the time, though for what reason no one seemed to know; not even
herself.

      "Hello, Kozue," I replied, even though I had never spoken a word
to her before.

      We stood there, looking at each other for a moment, wondering what
it was that drew our attention to each other.

      Then she smiled and shrugged. "Well. I see you're going to be
trouble for me already."

      I felt my brow furrow. "What? What do you mean?"

      She crossed her arms in front of her. "You mean, you can't see it?
Even while you look around you?"

      I did look at that moment, and I noticed that a small crowd had
gathered around the two of us. "I still don't see what you mean."

      "You will," she replied. "There's a reason for everything." With
that she walked off, leaving more whispers  in her wake, whispers that I
realized I couldn't completely make out.

      I stood there for a moment longer, and turned to leave.

      But the part of the crowd that remained still stood there,
blocking my path.

      "Wakaba," a female classmate of mine whose name escapes me even
now, asked me, "are you all right? What was that about?"

      "The nerve of that Kaoru," another classmate chimed, "she's only a
junior but she acts like she owns the school."

      "Tell us what that was about, Shinohara!" yet another pleaded.

      "I... I don't know," I replied, and I meant it. Or at least, I
thought I did; I believe that even then I somehow understood the reason.

      I continued walking in the direction I had meant to walk and the
crowd parted in front of me. And even though the words of encouragement
and support continued, not one person dared to even touch me, not even
to comfort me.



      The table I usually sat at to have lunch never seemed more full
than it did that day.

      I must admit, I was beginning to enjoy the attention, although a
nagging thought still floated to the surface of my mind: What was this
all about?

      I smiled as I turned my attention to the crowd, and I realized
that I was not so much dividing it among the people at the table than I
was simply devoting it to the group as a single entity. Why shouldn't I
have? No one in particular attracted my attention. No individual drew my
singular interest.

      Not that it really mattered to me. For the first time I could
remember, I was too caught up in playing the lead role in the story of
my life.





- Three -



      "Next!"

      I watched from the balcony overlooking the fencing hall as the
team captain made short work of yet another opponent. The sound of foil
on foil sounded almost continuously from that place, and every now and
then swords would glint in the sunlight that filtered in through the
large windows.

      "Next!"

      I felt drawn there that particular afternoon, although I knew that
the fencing team practiced nearly every day for a tournament. The Ohtori
Academy fencing team always won the tournaments; that was a fact
everyone took for granted. It was more of a question of who would bring
the most glory to the Academy.

      Invariably it would always be the team captain.

      "Next!"

      This next opponent was tougher than all the others, nimbly
parrying and deftly following up with ripostes. The offense shifted from
one duelist to the other, back and forth, back and forth...

      ...But in the end, the result was inevitable.

      "Next!"

      "There is no one else left, sempai," Kozue said as she lifted her
helmet, sweat glistening in the sunlight. "You've made pretty short work
of all of us."

      The team captain took off her own helmet. "You were doing fine
until the end, Kozue, but the strength in your forearm wavered a bit and
you parried with the tip of your foil, instead of near the base --
that's why I was able to break through with my last lunge," Takatsuki
Shiori replied.

      "Well, like I said, Shiori-sempai," Kozue said, "You were simply
too good for all of us, even combined."

      "You did well, Kozue. Don't sell yourself too short now," Shiori
said, laughing. "All you really need is inspiration."

      "Is that so?" Kozue replied, smiling. "Can you tell me what your
inspiration is, Shiori-sempai?"

      Shiori opened her mouth to reply, but then she stopped, and turned
to look up at the balcony where I was. She paused for a moment, and a
strange, wondering expression crossed her face. Then she called out,
"Wakaba! Come join us down here!"

      Before I knew what I was saying, I had already replied, "Do I have
to? You both look like you could use showers!" And I was already headed
down the stairs to where they were, to my surprise.

      "If it isn't the Onion Princess," Kozue snorted.

      "Put a sock in it, Kozue," I replied, to much less disbelief this
time, as if I was growing more and more comfortable with my role.

      "Ladies, please," a new voice said, "don't start fighting on my
account."

      "You wish, Tsuwabuki," Kozue retorted. "Getting out of middle
school must've inflated your ego even more."

      I turned to look and saw Tsuwabuki Mitsuru standing before us,
flanked by his lackeys Suzuki, Tanaka, and Yamada (whom I could never
tell apart, actually). He looked rather confident in his new high school
attire, which was the reason for Kozue's comment. "If one is to be
treated like royalty one must act the part," he said, running his
fingers through his combed blond hair.

      "Hello, Tsuwabuki," Shiori greeted him. "Finally decided to join
the fencing team?"

      "I'm sorry, Shiori-sempai, but my busy schedule simply doesn't
allow me to join any more extra-curricular activities," Tsuwabuki said
with a bow and a flourish. "Perhaps when my schedule loosens up a bit."

      "Perhaps," Shiori said with a smirk. "What about you, Wakaba?"

      "She's too busy being captain of the kendo club to join the
fencing team," said yet another voice. "And I promised her a rematch."

      Without thinking I turned and said, "I'll beat you this time,
Keiko. Or should I call you President Sonoda?"

      "Please, it's too early in the campaign for that. You're
embarrassing me," Keiko said, shaking her head, her pigtails swishing
gently with the turn of her head. "For all I know, Mitsuru here might
beat me to it."

      "Now, why would I want to do that?" Tsuwabuki said, producing a
red rose from apparently nowhere and offering it to Keiko, who accepted
it graciously. "I wouldn't want to put myself at odds with you, my dear
sister."

      "Stop calling me that. This weird tendency of yours to imagine me
your sibling is going to raise some eyebrows, especially in this hotbed
of gossip," Keiko said.

      "Well, I've had enough of this for one day," I replied. "I'm going
to the kendo hall to get in some more practice."

      "Afraid I might beat you again, Wakaba?" Keiko teased, and I felt
my hackles rise at this.

      "You were lucky," I replied. "I'll be waiting for you, Keiko."

      "I'll be there."

      As I walked out, heading to my locker to retrieve the shinai I
never knew I owned, I looked up at the balcony and saw Mikage standing
there, watching all of us -- and it was all I could do to repress a
shudder.





- Four -



      I don't know exactly what I was thinking then, but I took the
practice sword in hand, pointed at the rest of the kendo team members,
and said, "Attack me."

      They did indeed, rather hesitantly at first, but after I'd cut
down (so to speak) the first three or four people they started to charge
me, determined not to make utter fools of themselves by allowing me to
take the whole club down single-handedly.

      The less I thought about fighting, the more naturally it came to
me; pretty soon it was as if I'd been practicing kendo all my life --
and for all intents and purposes, I had been. I cracked another opponent
on the head -- firmly, but not enough to cause irreparable damage, and
immediately sidestepped and caught the next one in the stomach. I lifted
my foot and swung down, parrying a strike meant for my knee. I struck my
attacker in the face with the handle of my sword, then spun around and
hit the one to my rear with a thrust to the shoulder.

      This wasn't ordinary practice for a kendo club, but then, this was
no ordinary kendo club, and I was no ordinary captain. The others were
fighting for pride, I knew; I was fighting for fighting's sake. It
seemed right. It seemed proper. I belonged here, and the sword belonged
in my hands.

      "Do you still have enough left to take me on, captain?" I heard a
voice behind me say, and I say Keiko standing there, in her gi and
hakama, her own sword in hand. "Perhaps I'll be lucky again this time."

      The ever-present crowd had more than doubled in size at Keiko's
arrival, and their cheers had turned into low murmurs as Keiko and I
faced each other, focusing; we knew that at our level of skill, the
fight would be decided in one exchange. It was no longer a question of
who was better, but of who would show weakness first.

      We must have stood there, perfectly still but for our breathing,
for over two minutes -- but to be perfectly honest, I would have been
contented to stand there forever.

      Something in the crowd gave me a start.

      Then I heard Keiko's left foot shift, and I charged her.

      A sharp, quick strike. I felt it on my chest, on my sternum, and I
cursed to myself.

      "A draw, then," I heard Keiko say, and I opened my eyes. While she
had struck me squarely in the chest, I had landed a blow that would have
split her cranium, down the middle, if we'd been using real swords.

      A cheer sounded, but I was displeased. I was not in the mood to
pander to the crowd as Keiko was doing. I put my shinai away and wiped
my brow with a towel. I had slipped, even as Keiko had slipped as well.
I looked up at the crowd but couldn't find Mikage. I could have sworn he
was there, watching us, watching me... It was his fault. He broke my
focus. Damn him.

      "Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you, Wakaba," Keiko said to me,
diverting her attention from the crowd for a moment.

      "What?" I said, a little more irritably that I would have liked.

      Keiko smiled, self-assuredly. "I'm always lucky."

      I turned away, and chuckled. "Oh, right. I forgot."





- Five -



      Days passed, and I grew more and more comfortable with the role
that life had suddenly dealt me, though I felt myself growing more and
more discontented with something as time went by. The adulation that the
faceless mob showered on me grew more and more wearisome, and I
suspected that this was because it became easier and easier for me to
obtain it.

      Consequently, I got asked out more and more, but the more numerous
they became, the less interested I became with the whole idea, and the
novelty wore off rather quickly. I soon became unable to distinguish one
date from the next in my memory, and I quickly learned not to risk
calling my date by name unless they'd just mentioned it, and even then I
was cautious.

      The results of the Student Council elections came as no surprise
to anybody; not even myself, which was the surprising part. Keiko,
President; myself, Vice-President; Kozue, Secretary; and Shiori,
Treasurer. Tsuwabuki immediately threw a party in our honor, but I
wasn't in the mood. Besides, he only wanted to impress his 'dear
sister', and I'd seen quite enough of that.

      I was also sick of the sight of Keiko.

      I passed the Rose Garden on the way to my locker, and saw someone
inside, probably watering the plants. Or did I? I remember the place
being declared off-limits to students, no doubt due to some impropriety
that occurred there some time ago.

      But there was Mikage, speaking to someone -- I couldn't tell if he
had company or he was one of those people who believed that speaking to
plants was good for them. I doubted, however, than any plant would
benefit from being spoken to in the tone he was using. He sounded like
he was in an argument with somebody.



      It was none of my business, I told myself, as I made my way to my
foot locker, dreading the deluge of love letters no doubt stuffed in
with my shoes.

      There was none.

      Inside was a single white envelope, sealed with wax, and upon it
lay a white signet ring, inscribed upon it a single, pink rose in bloom.

      My first letter from the End of the World.





- First Interlude -



      "Inside, this world goes on as it always has, night and day, day
and night," Shiori began, taking her place beside us in the elevator.

      "Outside lies the power to bring the world revolution," Kozue
said, her hand lightly touching the elevator walls.

      "Between the inside and the outside lies the fragile shell of this
world," I intoned, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

      "Break the world's shell," Keiko finished, standing upright in the
center, "for the power to revolutionize the world."



- Six -



      "I assume you've all received the letters?" Keiko said casually,
seeming to pay more attention to the long-stemmed red rose she held
delicately under her nose than to the matter at hand. She had taken to
wearing her hair unbound, and it fell long and flowing down to her
shoulders. She stretched out in her seat, reveling in her new, white
uniform which was proper of a member of the Student Council.

      In fact, we all wore uniforms for this occasion, our first
official Council Meeting, and I was feeling quite uncomfortable,
unaccustomed as I was to wearing those green pants; I thought the top
was a bit much, also, what with the tassels and epaulets and everything.
I stood up from my own chair, unwilling to stay in one position while in
that outfit for too long, and though I told myself I would get used to
it, I was beginning to realize that perhaps my role didn't involve
becoming too comfortable with the uniform. I drew solace from the fact
that unlike Keiko I had kept my old hairstyle, in an effort to leave
some part of me unchanged.

      My distraction did not last very long before it was interrupted.

      "Indeed," Shiori said, placing her own warm yellow rose under
scrutiny.

      "Indeed," Kozue said, nodding, her blue rose resting on the pages
of her log book as she took down the minutes of the meeting.

      "What do you think, Keiko? Of course we received the letters," I
spat, casting my own green rose down on the glass table as I raised my
left hand, displaying the signet on my ring finger. "Stop asking these
useless questions and get to the point." Still I surprised myself with
my new behavior, though now my shock seemed relegated to a quiet corner
of my mind, the part of me that claimed sanity in the face of
overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the part of me that was largely
ignored by the rest of me.

      "That's the problem with you, Wakaba," Keiko said, taking a long
sniff of her rose, "ever since we were children you showed very little
appreciation for pleasantries."

      "Ever since we were children," Kozue repeated, continuing her
note-taking.

      Ever since we were children? My mind seemed to reject this
statement like the body rejects a powerful drug the first time it is
ingested -- it turned my stomach, and an unpleasant taste began to
spread in my mouth. Yet I continued in my role like a method actor,
seeming reluctant to break disbelief until some invisible director
yelled "Cut!" to mark the end of the scene.

      There was no such end in sight. "Unlike you, Keiko, I recognize
formalities for what they are."

      "No, you don't. That's the unfortunate part," Keiko replied, still
apparently unable to extract her attention away from the flower. "There
is one more 'formality' we must concern ourselves with."

      "And that is?" Shiori said, placing her rose in the empty vase,
having lost interest in it much faster than Keiko.

      Keiko idly called into the archway leading to the meeting area,
"You may reveal yourself now."

      A young man of thirteen or fourteen -- it wasn't too clear
which -- stepped out of the shadows. He was thin, pale-skinned, perhaps
even sickly in appearance, and his short, straight hair was of a shade
of black that glinted in the sunlight. He was dressed in a red version
of our uniform, except with two breast pockets instead of one, and
different epaulets from ours, lavender in color. "Good day," he greeted,
in the clear, musical tone of a young boy's yet-unbroken voice.

      "Good day," Kozue said, not so much as a greeting than as a matter
of reiteration as she continued writing.

      "Who are you?" Shiori said, raising an eyebrow.

      "A formality," Keiko said, chuckling, "from the End of the World."

      He walked over to me and bowed, almost imperceptibly. "My name is
Chida Mamiya," he spoke, smiling a beautiful, guileless smile that
reminded me of a part of myself that I hadn't realized I'd forgotten.
"I've been waiting for you, Miss Shinohara. I am the Rose Bride. From
this day forward, I belong to you."





- Seven -



      Mamiya and I began our walk home together, in silence. The trip to
the new Student Council quarters was not long, though only Shiori and I
really used them; Kozue and Keiko both had family-owned houses on
campus. Since Shiori tended to keep to herself, we were not as close as
we pretended to be in public, even though we lived across the hall from
each other. She had gone ahead, in fact, uninterested as she was with my
problems about living with the Rose Bride.



      I'd complained loudly, then. I had thrown the crystal vase meant
to hold my rose over the edge of the Council meeting place and had made
threats and gestures, as if to draw my sword.

      But Keiko calmly crossed her arms in front of her, her hair
blowing in the high winds, and told me this:

      "If you don't like it, then I suggest you lose your next duel for
the power to bring the world revolution."

      I decided I could live with the trouble after that.



      The ground was damp, with newly-fallen late-afternoon rain; odd,
as I didn't recall any rain falling while we were in the open-air
meeting place. But I shrugged, recognizing it as 'just one of those
things' that seem to happen in Ohtori Academy.

      Mamiya stayed quiet for most of the trip, though I could see from
the corner of my eye that every so often he would look at me and smile,
for no apparent reason. I suppose it should have made me feel better,
should have made me happy, since no one had smiled at me so innocently
for... as long as I could remember at that moment.

      But it only made me more wary than before.



      My room was quite large, and apparently the double bunk was placed
there in anticipation of today's events. The room had a deceptively
orderly look because I didn't have enough things to make it look
cluttered.

      No, that wasn't right; someone had arranged everything while I was
out. I turned to Mamiya with a questioning gaze but all he did was smile
at me.

      That smile. It was starting to unnerve me. I already had trouble
with the idea that we would be sleeping in the same room from now on. I
didn't want to deal with the thought of him smiling cheerfully at me
from beneath my bed, since I had chosen to stay on the top bunk.

      We didn't speak any more that night -- he coughed quietly every
now and then, and apparently he had decided not to burden me with the
reasons behind his condition (for which I was secretly grateful); and as
for myself, I didn't particularly feel like 'sharing my feelings'. We
had eaten in silence, and I headed to the bathroom to get dressed, when
I realized he was getting undressed in front of me.

      My new personality did not allow for shock, or even surprise, even
as I reeled inwardly at his lack of concern, or modesty for that matter.
I felt myself emit a grunt as I entered the bathroom, washed up, got
dressed, and turned in for the night.

      I imagined his smile burning into the back of my neck as I lay in
my pillow. It grew twisted and even more disturbing in my imagination,
seemingly contorting at every stifled cough I heard coming from below
me. I buried my head under my pillow, but as the coughs died down, they
grew louder and louder in my head, Mamiya's smiling visage now
resembling a sort of death mask in my mind's eye.

      I bolted upright, threw off my blanket, and looked out over the
side of my bed.

      He was asleep.

      And yet sleep had given a different quality to his expression, his
closed eyes and regular breathing granting the innocence and naivete and
guilelessness of his face something that was needed to complete it --
serenity.

      The moon was waxing, that night, and it cast an ethereal light
into the room. Mamiya's face seemed to glow, looking more full of life
now than it did under the harsh light of the sun and the unnatural cast
of the room's lamps. It was like looking at the face of a dream, a
beautiful wisp of a dream lying asleep before me, living, breathing in
the same room as me, and I seemed to be suspended in that moment after
waking but before the passing of the dream's memory...

      I suddenly felt unworthy. The signet ring seemed to burn into my
finger. I remembered all those faces in the crowd from the other day,
the impression they left on me so fleeting, so temporary, and I realized
that what I hated about those faces most of all was that I might have
found my own face there, lost in the mob of the ordinary, the
unremarkable, the transitory.

      And now I shared the room with one who bore the face of eternity.

      I pulled the covers over my face and wept.





- Eight -



      Another love letter.

      Another insipid, uninspired love letter slipped into that most
predictable of places -- my foot locker. Another maudlin correspondence
sent to interrupt the regular routine of my day, already made miserable
by my lack of sleep the night before.

      No, that wasn't quite right. The letter fit into my daily routine
quite perfectly. Too perfectly. It irritated me that I had grown to
dislike something I had always dreamed of before.

      Before? Before what? There was nothing before this. There was
nothing before today. There was not even a trace to indicate anything
came the moment I lived in.

      Except for Mamiya's face.

      In irritation I tore the envelope that previously held the letter
into shreds. I opened the letter itself and read it. It was some
pathetic drivel about the writer dancing with me in his dreams. What was
his name? Kazami Tatsuya, it said.

      Why was that familiar to me? Was it familiar to me? Why should it
have been? I stared at the letter and looked at the handwriting,
familiar as a hidden memory, familiar --

      No! I clutched the letter and walked to the bulletin board, where
I tacked it up and walked away. A crowd had gathered behind me, no doubt
to read whatever I had put up on the board. I didn't care.

      Or perhaps... Perhaps I wanted someone to remember whatever I had
forgotten.



      Mamiya stood there in front of me, blocking my way. The smile was
still on his face, though only a mild one, barely perceptible except in
his eyes. "Please don't worry, Miss Wakaba. Someone still remembers."

      I had a million questions after that, all racing for a chance to
be spoken first, but the one question that did come out was "Who?"

      He shook his head. "If that person truly remembers, then you'll
know who it is very soon." He walked off, leaving me standing in the
corridor alone.

      I stomped off to the kendo hall, grabbing my shinai on the way
there. I needed to hit someone. Anyone.



      "You! Shinohara!"

      I simply continued to practice, not bothering to face the
newcomer. "Don't you know that coming into the kendo hall uninvited is a
very, very stupid thing to do?"

      "What's stupid is posting Tatsuya's note up like that on the
bulletin board."

      "What I do with the notes I receive is my business. That stupid
note..." I paused to laugh. "I meant to say, that unique note seemed
amusing to me. I felt the need to share the source of my amusement with
others. I don't see any problem with that, do you, Mister...?"

      "Mikage."

      I gave a start. "Mikage..." I slowly turned to face him.

      He stood there, pointing his own shinai at me. He shook visibly,
and his dark eyes flashed with anger -- but I caught myself looking
closer, and I saw that the anger for what I had done to Tatsuya did not
go deep; as I saw further into his eyes, I saw something his rage change
into something else, and it mirrored something inside me even as his
eyes held my own image within them. "I challenge you to a duel."

      "A duel?" I said, and I truly, for a brief moment, had no idea
what he was talking about. My disorientation did not last long. "I see.
Then you must be the duelist mentioned in the letters from the End of
the World." My jaw hurt, voicing its protest for being forced to mouth
words of which I didn't know the meaning.

      I saw Mikage's own jaw clench and unclench several times, and he
tried to swallow before he spoke. "Duelist?" he said, and his voice
trembled as his face contorted to express the ignorance his eyes did not
seem to share. "What..." He paused and swallowed hard. "What do you
mean?"

      You know very well what I mean, I thought, and on the other hand I
have no idea. I have no idea what I mean. I have no idea even as I hear
myself say this: "I'll meet you at the dueling forest, then, after class
hours."

      "The forest no one is allowed to enter?" he said, and as he
mouthed the words my mind thought them at the same time.

      What did I mean? I knew, and at the same time I didn't. Perhaps it
didn't matter that I did not know -- I realized I would in time, and
there was nothing either Mikage or myself could do about it.

      "The very same." I left and made my way to the arena, each step
making me more and more certain of something I could not quite grasp.

      But how can anyone be certain of what they do not know?





- Nine -



      I stood in the center of the arena, clutching at my shinai, and I
marveled at the castle floating in the sky above, suspended on a
foundation I could not see; it gave me the distinct impression that it
was me who was upside down, staring at the upright castle; I was the
reflection in an upside down mirror.

      "So the duels have begun," Mamiya said quietly.

      "What are the duels?" I demanded, spinning to face him. "What are
they for?"

      "The power to bring the world revolution," he replied.

      "I've heard that before, and I don't even know what that means!" I
cried. "Why would I even want to bring the world revolution?"

      "Everyone wants to bring the world revolution. It is the natural
instinct of humanity to change its surroundings to fit its desires," he
said.

      "But what about those who prefer things to stay the way they are?"
I asked.

      "They want to bring the world revolution as well, because everyone
knows things will never remain the way they are, although we like to
believe they will." He smiled and walked up to me, dressed in his deep
red uniform, a delicate golden crown on his forehead. "Miss Shinohara?"

      "Yes?"

      He regarded me intently, still wearing the smile on his face. "I
have a small question to ask you. A small, trifling, personal thing."

      I said nothing as I looked at him, as I tried to pierce the smile
on his face as he lifted a graceful hand to my cheek.

      He traced the line of my jaw with his fingers, and a chill ran
down my spine. "Are you prepared to lose this duel? You should know you
cannot win."

      I slapped his hand away. "How dare you! I am the captain of the
kendo club! That alone is enough. And on top of that, with you at my
side, I have the power to call upon the Sword of Dios!"

      "Nevertheless," Mamiya said calmly, slowly lowering his hand, "you
are simply not fated to win this duel. The letters from the End of the
World said so."

      "Enough!" I slapped him. "You are the Rose Bride, and you are
engaged to me!"

      "Only for now," Mamiya said, holding his cheek, and almost
imperceptibly his smile took on a menacing air. "Your challenger has
arrived."



      Mikage stepped into the arena, looking at the sky, at the inverted
castle. He carried with him a shinai, and I found myself scoffing at his
audacity in doing so. I thought I caught him glancing at Mamiya once or
twice, but I wasn't quite sure. "What is this place?" he asked, and the
note of wondering in his voice grated in my ears, grated because it
sounded so false.

      "Oh, you've never seen the castle before?" I said with a sneer,
even though I hadn't, either, not until that evening. "Some would say
it's an illusion, a trick of the light." Some? Who?

      "But it isn't visible from outside the..." Suddenly he paused and
clutched at his head. "No..."

      "What is it?" I asked. "Have you decided to back out?" I hoped he
did. I certainly didn't want to have to duel him, no matter how
confidently I seemed to be behaving.

      "NO! Can't you see?" he screamed, and I staggered back. "Can't you
see how pointless all of this is?"

      I was about open my mouth, to respond in typically snide fashion,
but then I stopped myself. My words seemed so hollow, so empty. I
clenched my teeth and followed him with my eyes, hoping he could read in
them what I could not speak out loud because the part of me that had
blustered and bragged, the part of me that I did not recognize, would
not let me. "Silence," I finally heard myself say. "Mamiya, prepare us."

      Mamiya walked up to me and placed a green rose in my breast
pocket. Green? Why green? I wondered. Them Mamiya turned to Mikage and
placed in his breast pocket a white rose. "Good luck," he said, and with
this he turned to face me, and his eyes taunted me, dared me to slap
him. It was my place to do so. I was expected to do so.

      And so I did not.

      Instead I waited for him to begin the chant to draw out the Sword
of Dios from within him.



- The Prayer to Dios - Reprise -



      Mamiya closed his eyes, and clasped his hands to his chest. "Rose
of the noble castle that hangs in the sky above, power of Dios that
sleeps within, sword of revolution, sword of the ends of the world..."
He spread his arms wide, and cried, "Awaken, heed the call of your
master and arise..."



- Ten -



      Both Mikage and I shielded our eyes from the blinding light that
erupted from Mamiya's chest. I chuckled, and confidently strode to
Mamiya, and as he bent over backwards I caught him in my arms, as if we
were partners in a dance.

      "Grant me the power to bring the world revolution!" I shouted, and
in one motion grasped at the sword handle and pulled.

      Except there was no sword.

      "What?" I gasped, and suddenly the script in my mind had run out.
There were no more lines, there was no more prompter, screaming in my
mind's ear. The role I had been playing vanished, disappearing like a
wisp of smoke. I dropped Mamiya onto the ground and grabbed my shinai.

      "Don't you see? Don't you get it? The power to revolutionize the
world is DEAD!" Mikage cried, and the tightening in my chest told me his
words were true.

      "Lies!" Mamiya screamed, and for the first time I saw the smile on
his face shatter, replaced by a scowl of such intense fury that I had to
avert my eyes. "You will defeat Wakaba, and you will claim the power to
revolutionize the world for yourself!"

      "He will not!" I exclaimed and charged Mikage, and thought of
nothing, thought nothing for roles, thought nothing of Rose Brides,
though nothing of the power to bring the world revolution -- and I let
the sword and its movements take over.



      And the duel was on.



- First Chorus - Epiphany -



I press the attack



      dreams of fire

      dreams of light

      dreams of sun and sky and endless blue



he parries



      dreams of green

      dreams of falling leaves

      dreams of yielding branch and bough



and ripostes



      dreams of reflection

      dreams of luster

      dreaming on the edge of a finely crafted sword



I feint and counterattack



      dreams of stone

      dreams of cliffs

      dreams of harsh rock rubbing against shredded palm



on and on the duel goes



      dreams of blue

      dreams of dreams

      dreams of ripples on an endless surface



back and forth



      dreams of morning



but sooner



      dreams of stirring



or later



      stirring



someone



      stirring



has



      rousing



to



      waking



win



      WAKE UP!





- Eleven -



      ...And white petals flew into the clear blue sky, carried by the
high winds over the forest below, over the courtyards, over the garden,
over the school buildings, over and out of the walls of Ohtori Academy.

      I walked toward where Mikage was and I stood behind him.

      "Well, now..." he said, still not facing me. "It seems that the
End of the World isn't infallible in this world anymore."

      "What do you mean?" I asked. "What is happening? What is happening
to all of us?"

      "I... don't know," he said, turning to face me, and he regarded me
with those deep violet eyes. "I honestly don't know. Do you know what
you've done?"

      "I won."

      "You weren't supposed to win."

      "So what? What does that mean?" I asked.

      "I have a feeling we are all going to find out very soon." He
smiled at me, and he turned to go. "Gather up your Bride, before he
hurls himself off the edge."

      I grabbed Mamiya, who was sobbing, palms bloody from clutching his
broken crown. "He promised..." he cried, "he promised me..."

      "Stop that," I said, and now I felt the role was mine to make up
as I went along. "Behave yourself. Remember that you are still engaged
to me."

      "For whatever that's worth," I heard Mikage call out as he
descended the stairs.





- Second Interlude -



      "Inside, this world goes on as it always has, night and day, day
and night," Shiori began, taking her place beside us in the elevator.

      "Outside lies the power to bring the world revolution," Kozue
said, her hand lightly touching the elevator walls.

      "Between transience and eternity lies the fragile shell of this
world," I intoned, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

      "Break the world's shell," Keiko finished, standing upright in the
center, "for the power to revolutionize the world."





- Twelve -



      "You won," Keiko said, standing in the middle of the meeting
place, staring at me.

      "So I did," I said, answering the question that her statement was
not.

      "The letters said you wouldn't win," Shiori said. She frowned as
she held her chin in her hand, as she rested her elbows on the coffee
table.

      "The letters said," Kozue repeated, writing everything down in her
now-ubiquitous logbook.

      "So they did," I replied.

      "Don't be flippant," Keiko said, brushing her hair away from her
face with her fingers. "Remember that these duels exist to determine who
has the chance to bring the world revolution. You should have lost."

      "I didn't. That ought to tell you something, shouldn't it?" I
said, shrugging.

      "Tell us, then, what it's supposed to mean," Keiko said.

      "Tell us," Kozue repeated.

      "Simple," Mikage said as he exited the elevator. "The power to
bring the world revolution is dead."

      "What are you doing here? This place is for Student Council use
only!" Shiori said, rising to her feet.

      "By whose authority?" Mikage asked.

      "By the authority of the End of the World," was Keiko's response.

      "That last duel just proved to all of you what the authority of
the End of the World is worth these days," Mikage said, chuckling. "Or
what the duels are worth, for that matter."

      "Silence!" cried Keiko, and indeed, for a few moments there was no
sound but that of the high winds. "For all I know, this slip in the plan
is all your fault. I will not stand by and listen to you tell us that
the duels are worthless, especially when you yourself lost a duel you
were supposed to win."

      "And especially," I said, "when the duels aren't useless at all."

      Even Mikage gave a start at this, and stared at me. "What do you
mean? You saw what happened. The Sword of Dios did not materialize. The
written plan of the End of the World was not carried out. How can you
say that the duels still mean anything?"

      "Because," I said, picking up my green rose from my table, "by
defeating you and by proving the End of the World wrong, I realized that
the power to bring the world revolution is not dead, nor does it lie
outside the shell of this world." I looked at my rose and I smiled.
Suddenly I realized how strange it was, a green rose. I touched it
lightly, brushing my fingers over its soft green petals. "There is no
more need to bring this world revolution." I gestured, using the flower
to point at something beyond the confines of the balcony.

      Behind us stood the tower, still towering above the rest of Ohtori
Academy, as it always had. There it gleamed, pure white in the light of
the morning sun, casting its shadow across the ground. Beyond its shadow
was the forest, the gateway to the arena, silent in the absence of any
duels, for revolution or otherwise. And beyond that...

      "I see nothing," Keiko said, squinting to see past the vast
grounds of Ohtori.

      "No," I said. "Look harder."

      "I don't see what you mean," Shiori said.

      "No, wait... what's that dark shape?" Kozue asked, having put down
her logbook and joined us.

      There it was, a dark silhouette on the horizon itself, easily
mistaken for a low cloud, its ruins easily confused for a passing
shadow, or sunlight playing over water's surface like--

      "A trick of the light..." Mikage breathed, finally comprehending.

      I smiled, placed the rose under my nose, and took a deep breath.
"The revolution has already taken place. The duels will continue. I bid
all of you to try your hand at winning the Rose Bride from me."

      "To bring the world revolution?" Keiko asked.

      "No," I replied, gazing at the ruins of the castle in the sky. "To
bring it realization."





- Thirteen -



      What did I mean? What was the power to realize the revolution? I
suspected that Mamiya knew not the slightest thing about this new power,
this new purpose of the duels their creator did not intend. Nor, I
mused, was it necessary that he did.

      What was the End of the World? I asked myself as I drank the tea I
had prepared for myself. I had been sitting alone in the dining room of
the East Dormitory, as I had every now and then for the past few days
since I had defeated Mikage.

      Mamiya no longer joined me for meals. He had tried to move his
belongings to a different room in the building, but I stopped him. He
was my Bride, after all. I knew I didn't fully understand what that
meant, but it didn't really matter. Understanding is not a requirement
for knowing.

      He had grown sicklier as the days went by, and soon he never left
the room for anything. I had to bring his food up to the room, and even
then it was a chore trying to get him to eat anything.

      It would not do to have him die on me just yet, I thought, with a
hint of morbidity that I never thought I had in me.



      Someone had robbed me of my script, it seemed, but not of my role.
I was still Vice-President of the Student Council; I was still the
center of attention wherever I went (unless Keiko was around -- but then
it didn't really bother me); I still received love letters in my foot
locker.

      But ever since my invisible benefactor had left me to ad lib my
part of the story from that point on, I decided to make the most of it.



      It was in the middle of one particular date -- with Tatsuya, in
fact -- that I began to wonder how I ever grew weary of the attention I
found myself showered with. I sat next to him in one of the school's
cherry tree groves near the end of spring, and as I held his hand and
listened to him sing to me, slightly out of tune (but I didn't mind one
bit), that I realized how different he looked from everyone else.

      Or how different everyone looked from everyone else.

      Am I making any sense? I suppose not.

      But what does it matter?



      The duels started to become the farthest things from my mind.
Schoolwork suddenly (and inconveniently) became very, very real to me.
Fortunately, Kozue was a big help especially with math (which I must
admit is one of my weak points). We'd meet in the music room to study
together every now and then.

      I'd never known Kozue to be as friendly as she was being to me
then. I could not detect even a hint of her earlier cunning, and I had
begun to think I had made a new friend.



      Shiori had become distant after our last meeting, and although she
would still fence with Kozue during regular practice, she seemed to
withdraw into herself more and more as spring slowly turned into summer,
though not in the was Mamiya did. She simply grew more distant, more
preoccupied with something she would not share with anyone, not even
Kozue.



      Tsuwabuki, who was oblivious of everything that had transpired,
still showered his attentions on his 'sister', Keiko, and I felt a
little hostility from him now and then, although I think it was more due
to his loyalty to Keiko than anything else. Keiko, on her part, carried
on with her men, often going out (and most probably doing things I would
rather not think of) with multiple men at once. It seemed almost
desperate to me, as if she was trying to drown something out of her mind
with all her distractions.



      And Mikage? Distant as always. But although he and I did not
exchange a word with each other since after the meeting, I knew, and
seeing him always reminded me, that always weighing on his mind was the
offer I gave to everyone present, the thing that had subdued us even as
it liberated us.

      A duel, for the power to awaken the world.





- Fourteen -



      "Mamiya," I said, whispering into his ear as I tried to wake him.

      He stirred, and as he opened his eyes he focused them on me. Then
he shut them tightly. "Leave me alone."

      "Mamiya," I said softly, "I know I've been harsh with you all this
time. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing." Or why I was doing it,
for that matter.

      He sighed, letting out a slow, shuddering breath. "I know."

      I gave a start. "You do?"

      He nodded, even as he kept his eyes closed. "It was all part of
the promise... You all acted the way you did because of the promise."
Tears seeped out of the corners of his eyelids, squeezed out because of
how forcefully he kept them closed. "And now the promise is broken.
You're all free to act and speak and do as you please." He laughed
softly, weakly, painfully and it was a terrible thing to hear, terrible
for its lack of any mirth or joy. "And now I have no more reason to
live. If you can call this living, that is."

      I looked out the window, at the early morning sky. "I've always
thought that looking for a reason to live is a pretty pointless
exercise."

      "That's easy for you to say. You aren't frail and bedridden."

      "And neither were you," I replied.

      He paused. "That's because of the promise from the End of the
World." He coughed, quietly. "And now the promise is broken."

      "You keep saying that," I said, running my fingers through his
damp hair. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the End of the World
no longer has the power to make that promise in the first place?" His
forehead was cold with sweat. I stood up to get a towel to wipe his
perspiration with.

      "What... what do you mean?" he asked as he tried to sit up.

      "Lie back. Don't strain yourself," I said, sitting down next to
him and wiping his forehead and neck with the towel. "What I mean is
that since the End of the World seems to lack the power to do anything
in this world anymore, or at least the power you and Mikage have been
hinting at since the day I met you," and I said that last part with a
smirk, "then maybe you recovered from your illness on your own."

      He paused, closing his eyes slowly this time. "Maybe," he finally
said. "But I had a reason to keep living then. I thought Mikage would
beat you..."

      I chuckled. "That's your reason for living?"

      He laughed, too, and this time it reflected in his eyes. "You make
it sound ridiculous."

      "I tell it like I hear it."

      He shook his head. "If he had beaten you, and had carried out the
plan to the letter like he should have, then he would have brought the
world revolution. That was my reason."

      "I still think it's a pretty flimsy reason," I said, stroking his
cheek lightly.

      He snorted. "Fine. Then tell me what makes for a good reason to
live."

      I thought about this for a moment.

      Then I kissed him.

      It was a soft kiss, a light touching of the lips, ever-so-slightly
parted. I closed my eyes as I kissed him, and I felt him doing the same,
after his initial shock. Then I slowly drew back, and opened my eyes. I
smiled as I saw him, eyes still closed, chin slightly forward, lips
still slightly parted. Then he opened his eyes and blushed. "What..." he
began, but I put a finger to his lips.

      "Now, now," I said, "you're not healthy enough. I'm afraid your
frail constitution simply wouldn't be able to take it." I shook my head
teasingly. "I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you now. A
shame, really. Goodbye." I stood up and headed for the door.

      "Wakaba?" he called out, and I paused at the doorway.

      "Yes?"

      He faced me, and he smiled. The face of eternity was gone, it
seemed, replaced by something more immediate, more fleeting... and the
oddest thing occurred to me. I felt his smile was all the more sweeter
because of its transience. "I suppose I'll have to get better, then,
don't I?"

      And for the moment, I felt myself smiling back.



- End Part 1 -

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