Subject: [FFML] [Utena]The Memory of the Rose, Ch. 1
From: "Yukatado" <jmm769s@smsu.edu>
Date: 11/24/2000, 1:52 AM
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Hello Everybody,

    I'm posting this for a friend of mine.  All C&C needs to be directed to

Angelkate, not me. though, if you choose to ignore that, I'll gladly pass it

on to her.





You actually want to read this thing huh?  You are truly brave and I give

you kudos.

Okay, here's the scoop:  All the usual disclaimer information applies here.

I did not

create any of the Shoujo Kakumei Utena characters portrayed in this story

except for the

obvious ones of Sari, Yamika, and Adam.  Any backdrop people feel free to

steal; any

foreground people like Sari, Yamika, or Adam please don't steal without my

permission.

Extra thanks to Alan Harnum for all his help.  Couldn't do it without him,

that's for sure.

If you have C&C please email me at Kam904s@yahoo.com, I'm always glad to get

mail

of any type.  Heck, flame me if you want to, it's a free world.

In conclusion: Please don't sue me, I have more debts than people owe to

Nabiki Tendo

at the moment and you won't get anything worthwhile except maybe my poodle.

Thanks,

AngelKate



^_-









The Memory of the Rose





O Rose, thou art sick.

The invisible worm

That flies in the night

In the howling storm



Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy.

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.



- The Sick Rose, Blake





It hurt, oh gods how it hurt. The ripping pain that seared its way through

her like a

dark dagger in her chest.  But it burned not just within her chest; the pain

worked its way

through her legs, her torso, her neck.  The afternoon light burned as she

jerked under so

many sharp points of fact- in the end, she had won, but at what cost?

 Sweat and blood dripped down her legs, down her arms, soaking into the red

of

her socks and turning them scarlet. Coughing feebly, she pressed both hands

to the

marble floor below her slender fingers, pushing upwards with all her might.

She had to

escape, had to leave this horrible, evil place.

 She had failed.  The knowledge was heavy; even as she struggled to escape

the

collapsing world around her, she wept.  Her lips formed soundless words;

they were

silent pleas to the gods to let it all have been a miserable dream.

 And in the end only her perseverance saved her sorry hide.  Sheer

determination

forced Utena down those steps and out the front of the gate.  Mulishness and

nothing

more kept her broken and bloody body moving as she limped away from Ohtori.

Surprisingly enough, despite the dire condition she was in, Utena had

somehow managed

to stumble four miles to the freeway.

 "Someone," she cried as she trudged along; each step another agonizing stab

in

her side, "please, if you're listening, save Anshi.  She didn't deserve

that, really.  God,

anyone, please...please^�"

 No answer.  Sorry the Almighty isn't home right now; please leave a prayer

at the

beep.

 Beep.

 Utena wept openly now as she stumbled along, blood dripping down her legs,

watering the hard, unyielding asphalt below. It was in such a sorry

condition that she

finally gave up and let herself fall forward onto the open freeway just

outside of the town

Ohtori inhabited.

The rest came to her in the jumbled non-sequence of the severely injured or

the

mentally unbalanced.  A scream, the keening wails of horns blaring, icy

hands running

along her sides, a warm cocoon around her body. Forcing one eye open she saw

a god-

like man in checkered plaid kneeling by her side.  His denim-clad knee was

inches from

her face; she could smell coffee from the drying stain on his upper thighs.

He must have

spilled it when I fell in the road, she thought dreamily.  I hope he didn't

burn himself.

He was praying as he ran hands over her arms and legs. The words fell on her

like

a benediction: Please God, don't let this kid die, not on my shift. Please

God, don't let

this kid die, not on my shift. Please God, don't let this kid die, not on my

shift. The words

soon ran together until all she heard was the mute plea- don't let her die.

Please, just

don't let her die.

Utena could barely hear his jumbled words now; he was whispering and

probably

didn't even realize he was crying as well.  She felt a grim sort of sadness

for the man, a

kind of silent satisfaction, and did her best to comfort him.

Her right hand budged and inch.

It was the best she could do.



Nine Years Later



It had finally stopped pouring down rain and as the girl slid her last bag

into the

passenger seat she felt a strange sense of release fill her up.

She was finally leaving.

She was finally going out into the real world.

She was so scared.

 One more box to go. As she leaned forward to set it at the back of the

car -

buckling it in for safety's sake, there were ten years worth of breakable

mugs in there- the

short wisps at the front of her hair swept forward and brushed her cheeks.

For years and

years she'd always kept her hair in the same mundane style, a high ponytail

with two

tendrils just in front of her ears.  But only yesterday Wakaba had gone to

the salon.  Her

long ponytail had come down and the scissors had come out.  She'd emerged a

completely different person.

 It had been amusing that Tatsuya's mouth gaped at the graduation dinner or

that

the Chairman of the Board had nodded his head approvingly when she'd

received her

diploma, it was the fact that the style was so similar to hers.

 In truth, Wakaba barely remembered the friend she'd had all those years

ago, the

pink-haired girl who'd shown up about a month after Wakaba's eighth year at

Ohtori had

started and who left about a month before graduation to the high school.

No, that wasn't

quite right either; Wakaba remembered her in her dreams.  In the space

between dreams

she remembered running as fast as she could to catch up with the mysterious

girl, but

never quite matching her speed, watching helplessly as she slipped away into

the mists.

 Wakaba had been so heartbroken when she just disappeared that day, she did

remember that much.  It had taken her weeks and weeks to finally come to the

realization

that the girl wasn't coming back. That she'd left without ever even saying

goodbye. What

had been her name again?  U-something, she thought.  Nevertheless, Wakaba

had glared

at the Student Council members for months and months afterward, even her

dear Saionji,

certain that they had something to do with her friend's disappearance.

Especially the

Council President, he'd always been hanging about and making- what was her

name

again? ^� well, just making her life absolutely miserable when he showed up.

 Wakaba locked her car and took a quick stroll around the campus.  There was

the

window she used to surprise Tetsuya by.  There was the strange birdcage

garden that had

belonged to that spooky girl, Himemiya Anshi.  Wakaba paused by it a moment.

They'd

changed it a great deal; knocking out the glass and replacing it with

lattices.  All the rose

bushes had been dug up, only the red, pink, and white ones remained now.

There was

even a wrought iron bench students didn't like sitting on in the center of

the cage; bushes

that never bloomed flanked it, and without the expert hand of the Dean's

little sister, all

the roses grew wild now.

 Shivering at the sight, Wakaba hurried on. It was time to go; she'd spent

too much

time reminiscing. It had been best that she'd decided to start her career in

a different city,

she decided as she rushed back to her car. Oh well.  The past was gone;

there was no use

dragging it up now. Ohtori loomed over the city below like a horrible black

beast at

times, despite all its pretty lights and sweeping architecture.

It was disturbing to find a secret part of her didn't want her to leave,

that wanted

to remain safe here forever.  Pausing a few feet away from her car, Wakaba

shivered.

Had that been what chased them all off, those leaders of her middle years at

Ohtori?

She'd always been in the shadows watching them go as they left Ohtori one by

one for

various reasons. Had they in reality not wanted to go but made themselves

for fear of

never leaving?  It was a sobering thought.

 With a click, she unlocked the door. The car was finally packed; she

couldn't stay

here any longer.  Wakaba stepped back and took one last lingering look

around.  She self-

consciously patted her hair once more and slipped into her car. It was

finally time to be

someone special, to be someone really noticed.

Goodbye creepy Ohtori, of bells and short teal skirts-

-Hello^�

World.





 Akio watched as the last Black Rose Duelist slipped into her car and drove

away.

She'd had no idea he'd been watching her from his tower, watching her with

her hair so

much like Tenjou's and longing for the past.  Just that week, Nanami's last

little

henchman had requested a transfer to their London branch.  He'd gotten it

without the

usual questions asked; Akio had been almost violent in his agreement to get

Tswabuki in

another country.

 He wanted no more memories of the fool he'd been lingering around, and even

the slender thread of the Black Rose Duelists reminded him daily of his

foolish plans and

desires. They were all gone, from the first Student Council member to the

last Black Rose

Duelist. Even Kanae had left him after only a year of marriage, despite her

aristocratic

parent's protests that no one in their family had ever gotten a divorce.

He'd been too cold

to her, so she just packed her bags and left.  He heard she'd eventually

ended up

somewhere in Europe, painting wide sweet canvases of Ohtori and the

surrounding

grounds.  He'd even gotten his hands on one, a nightmarish dreamscape of the

dueling

arena no one but those who'd fought in it would recognize.  But even there,

in the

foreground, was a slender, twisted figure in black and red with a wild

disarray of pink for

her hair and one slick streak of silver held aloft to the sky.  He'd

grimaced at the red

monster off to the side, with dark skin and hateful green eyes, staring so

coldly at him

with a bug-like intensity.  Akio had always known Anshi's attitude towards

Kanae had

disturbed his fianc�, but he'd never quite realized how much until then.

She'd truly seen

his sister as a monster, a horrible beast with dead eyes and a cold soul.

 In a way, he supposed it was good she was gone; Kanae's presence would be

just

as bad as an altar to his foolish pride.  He'd chosen her over Utena, he'd

chosen his coffin

over life, he'd chosen to be the dark angel of myth to the bright god of his

past.

 He'd chosen being a monster over being a man.

 What could it have been like to be the Victor in the end?  What would it

have

been like to see your best friend go plummeting into the shadowy abyss; to

watch as your

fingers, your pale-skinned hands, normally so strong and sure in everything

you did let

her slip away finger by dark finger?  What would it have been like to then

hear the heavy

humming of your destiny as it ripped downwards and speared your body with a

million

swords of hatred and despair? He'd never truly known the bite of cold steel

the way she

or Anshi had; he'd always just born his duty as a prince in stoic silence

until the day

Anshi had locked the good in him away.  Until the day she'd saved him from

himself.

 It was true you could be too selfless.  In the end, when the illusion had

shattered

around him and he'd seen Utena limp away he'd still wanted to call to her,

to pull her

battered body close to his and soothe away her now-endless pain with the

kisses of his

lips.  But then the world had come to a screeching halt and she was gone

beyond his

reach, beyond his world.

Akio laid his forehead against the cool glass and sighed.  It was done, she

was

gone.  No more of his history strolling about the campus enjoying the fresh

air and the

coming winter.  No more of it at all.

 Anshi had left the day he suggested renewing the duels.  He didn't blame

her

now, but at the time he'd been so shocked, so surprised that his sister

would defy him, -

him-, her brother and the only one who truly understood the darkness of her

secret self.

But she'd gone nevertheless and he'd been left to wander Ohtori like a

ghost.

 Even now, he looked the same as he did all those years ago.  He could

easily pass

for a man of twenty or so, despite his real age.  All the students of Ohtori

had that

selfsame ageless quality about them, including the one who'd just left,

Wakaba.  She was

at least twenty-three or twenty-four, but to an outsider she might pass for

seventeen at

most.  It would fade eventually, it always did, but for the next few years

there would be

comments behind whispered hands, how the newest member of the law firm

looked just

too young to be nearing her mid to late twenties.  Her logic would be

impeccable on the

courtroom floor, she would bend the jury's will to her own, but even as they

marveled at

her brilliance in oratory, they would be secretly wondering her true age.

 Grinning mirthlessly to himself, Akio moved away from the window and

returned

to his desk.  A magazine was hidden somewhere under the mountain of

paperwork, and

though he had better things to do, Akio searched it out. He stared long and

hard and the

beauty on the cover and let his mind drift for a moment.

 Juri.

 She was in the final years of her modeling career and had already made a

name

for herself as a designer, he knew.  The world begged her each season to

design

something different, something daring, but only those duelists would know

that no matter

how distinctive the design, they all had the same boxy shoulder look of a

duelist uniform,

the same epitaphs peeping somewhere on the costume.

 None of them had truly forgotten, though their memories were vague.  None

of

them would ever truly remember though, no matter how many stories were

dragged up.

For them to remember he would have to search out the Victor.

 He would have to revive the Duels.

 He would burn in Hell first.

 A knock on the door brought his mind away from its wanderings.  Frowning a

bit,

Akio rose and answered it himself.  His secretary should have buzzed him,

this better be

damn important.

 "Hello, Akio-san." The figure in the doorway smirked as Akio stepped back

in

surprise. He tried to keep his cool but sensed he was failing miserably as

his guest

sauntered into the room and sat down on the couch with the same old

familiarity, tilting

backwards to look at the faux stars painted high above.  "Nothing much has

changed I

see."

Akio stood a little taller and firmly stamped on the cold fear creeping into

his

heart.  He never would have believed any of them would return of their own

volition once

they had escaped, but apparently he was incorrect.  "It's been a long time."

"Indeed," murmured his guest, his ghost.  "Too long.  How have you been?"

Shrugging in his old noncommittal way, Akio tried on a dashing smile.  It

didn't

fit quite right on his face, so he dropped it.  "I've been much better.  But

I'm wondering

why you're here."

The figure shrugged nonchalantly.  "Oh the usual.  Seduction, Sensation,

Sin."

The last was said with a baring of teeth that suggested a smile.  Akio felt

nauseated as she

continued. "I'm here to take Ohtori from you.  Hope you don't mind too

terribly much.

There's a lot to be done around here and you're wasting Ohtori's potential

like this."

 This time the surprise on the Dean's face was so genuine that his guest

broke out

into merry laughter.  "Why, Akio-san, I do believe I've startled you."

 He shrugged, forcing calm once more.  He was the master at manipulating

people

at Ohtori, not this arrogant shadow from his past. He couldn't let the

taunts get too him;

he'd imagined a confrontation like this too many times in his mind to let it

rattle him

now.  "Not really.  But what would you want with a run down school like

Ohtori

anyway?"

 The figure chuckled.  "Oh Akio-san.  Ever the optimist.  I want the same

thing

you wanted- to be a prince again if only in the eyes of that one special

someone.  I want

eternity.  And you can give it to me."  The figure moved with a fluid grace

that was so

quick Akio barely had a chance to notice the shadow on the wall move before

the knife

was at his throat and the envelope in his hand.  "You will help me too, or I

will kill you."

 He'd had a feeling that was what this shadow from his past was after.  Akio

did

not snort- to do so was far too undignified- but he did glare a bit.  "Then

go ahead and do

it," he said.  "But I'm not helping you."

 "Oh, boo-hoo," taunted his guest as a bare hand devoid of ring flashed in

the dim

lights of the observatory, "Akio's not afraid to die?  Pathetic." Lips

brushed his cheek

and Akio shuddered at their touch.  This was going much too far. This was

not the person

he recognized, the person he had twisted worlds around to manipulate.  Of

course he had

manipulated them all, every one of them until the very end, until she had

saved them.

Until he'd failed to save himself. But this was not the student he

remembered, this was

inherently wrong on so many levels as to be ludicrous.  This was not how the

story was

supposed to go.

His guest pressed the knife a little closer and ran the edge of the envelope

down

his neck, eliciting a barely concealed tremor. "There are worse things than

dying Akio-

san.  You and your sister are very, very well acquainted with that fact.  So

I want you to

sign the new letters as 'The Ends of Innocence' all right?  We have around

nine months

to spare, but for what I want to do that's not much.  The way I see things,

a new

candidate for the coven of the damned Rose Brides will be here soon.  We'd

better

prepare, yes?"

 Akio couldn't stop the sneer of revulsion as lips nipped at his ear; yet at

the same

time he felt his body grow taut beneath the sharp scrape of teeth. "I am not

going to do

this, and you know it.  Just use the damn dagger all right?  Put me out of

your misery."

 A low throaty chuckle purred its way across his senses and Akio closed his

eyes

and tried to shut down his rampaging libido as the dagger slid down his

chest, popping

buttons away one by one.  "Yes, Akio, you are.  Even if I have to tie you up

or lock you

under Nemuro Memorial Hall^�yes, you will help me gain eternity.  You want

what I

have; which is information on those you seek, as well as what we had before.

I'm willing

to offer both freely; all I ask is that you quit sniveling and grow up."

 As the cool edge of the metal slid the final two inches down his shirt,

Akio heard

a sound he ^�much like Anshi before him- would quickly learn to despise: the

sound of the

shutters on the high windows dropping down.

 It was only after cool muscled thighs draped across his own and warm breath

whispered in his ear that Akio began to truly be terrified of what he'd done

so long ago.

His arms tightened momentarily around the pale body sprawled across his

chest and he

shuddered in fear. At first he thought he was the only one culpable for his

decisions but

here was living, breathing, blackmailing proof of how wrong he'd been.  Oh

how very

wrong indeed.







 "That'll be two bits miss," murmured the heavy man behind the cart.  The

lovely

woman nodded and took out the spare change, listening to the rattle of

strange coins in

her pockets as she took the first ginger sip of the steaming coffee.  "Keep

the change,"

she smiled, handing the vendor a dollar and turning away. It was already

freezing out; the

weather had changed so suddenly, to the surprise of many. Snow drifted

lazily down on

Central Park and she smiled sadly.  How long ago had it been since she'd

been here last?

At least seven years.  She supposed it was time to go home. Eight months and

six days

from now ten years would have passed since she'd left Ohtori.  Besides,

Anshi

desperately wanted to see if Utena would remember their promise.

 Not that she would blame her if she didn't.  Anshi had carried around the

weight

of the swords for years; she knew how their burden could wear on a person

both

physically and mentally.  She herself had often needed days of bed rest in

order to just

make it through the entire month without collapsing. But still, she hoped.

 In a way she reminded herself of that boy, Mamiya-the real one- not her

pale

imitation. She used to be so weak and it was only after the fire that she

gained the

strength, though her fire was of a most definitely different nature. Hers

was the scouring

flames of the Phoenix; his had merely been the crackle of a burning

building, complete

with one hundred handpicked sacrifices to science trapped within.

It was October now; she was so close.

Ten years. She'd spent not quite ten years searching for Utena, longing to

give

comfort to her prince, desiring nothing more that to see that head of pink

hair just once

more.  There had been several close calls over the years; she'd arrive in a

city or town

where her contact had sent her, go to the apartment or hotel, only to find

that the woman

she'd been searching for had left a few days before.  Thus Anshi had learned

to live with

disappointment.  But it didn't stop her from dreaming.

 She supposed Utena had gotten married or something- over the years, Anshi

herself had not.  Miki called occasionally; she kept in touch with her

favorite genius and

as each week passed she wondered if perhaps she was being fair to him.  He'd

loved her

since middle school; even now he waited patiently for her to finish her

quest so he could

propose.  Anshi supposed she loved him enough to settle down, -if anyone

Miki was a

more than adequate choice- but in her heart she still wanted to see Utena

once more

before agreeing on something so important to her life.

 Anshi closed her eyes; she could practically hear Utena's voice if she

tried, the

rich alto quietly chastising her for not being an individual, for depending

so much on her

title as the Rose Bride.

 "The thing I hate most is when people don't take care of themselves,"

Utena's

voice rebuked in her mind.  "You need to take better care, Yui!"

 Anshi snapped out of her daydream with a start.  Yui?

 The voice continued, the familiar alto rising and falling as the words

slipped past

Anshi to their intended target.  In all truth, the woman was afraid to turn,

terrified that if

she did and this woman's voice was not Utena she would lose it right then

and there.  It

had been so long^�

 She needn't have worried.

 Utena was still unbelievably slender and tom-boyishly beautiful.  Her pink

hair

was caught back in a braid that fell to her hips, but she kept the front the

same as always;

soft layers and bangs clinging to her forehead and cheeks along with a faint

shimmer of

snow.  "Utena," Anshi whispered, shocked.  Her heart was hammering away a

mile a

minute, but apparently that still wasn't loud enough, as Utena scooped up a

small child of

perhaps four and began to walk away.  She hadn't heard the soft, shocked

whisper.

 She was getting away.  Anshi gasped aloud and began rushing after her.

"Wait!

Wait!  Tenjou!  Utena Tenjou!  Wait, Tenjou-san!"

Utena turned, a small frown forming between her eyebrows.  "I beg your

pardon?

Were you talking to me?"

 Anshi stumbled to a stop.  How could she have been so foolish- this woman

obviously wasn't Utena.  Her hair was just a faded strawberry blond; her

eyes were a

vibrant blue, but not quite the same color.  "Gomen," Anshi whispered

softly, casting her

eyes down to the dirty snow at her feet.  "I^�I thought you were someone

else."

 The woman smiled softly and laughed, a rich and lovely sound.  "That's

okay, I

get it a lot.  Don't worry about it.  Have a good holiday."

 Anshi nodded numbly and turned away.  She couldn't help the frustrated

tears that

slipped down her cheeks as she clenched and unclenched her hands.  This was

ridiculous,

she was twenty-four years old; she shouldn't be so upset over a little case

of mistaken

identity.  In the distance she heard the young girl speaking to her mother

and Anshi had

to smile at the words: "Mommy, why was that lady crying? Did she hurt

herself?"

 What did come as a surprise, however, was that the woman listened to her

daughter and returned.  "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

 Jumping a little under the gentle hand on her shoulder, Anshi quickly

swiped her

hand across her cheeks to wipe away the tears.  "Yes?"

 The woman bowed a little and cleared her throat.  "I'm sorry for bothering

you,

but Yui was concerned about you and^�" She broke off and coughed a little, a

small flush

working its way across her cheeks.  "You seemed lost.  Maybe I can help you

find this

Utena Tenjou.  It's the least I can do since you seem to be new in town."

 Anshi shook her head.  "Oh, no, I couldn't^�"

 "Nonsense," the woman chided, taking Anshi's arm and threading it with her

own.  "Why don't we go to a nice little bakery I know close to here and you

can tell me

where you've looked already, and maybe we could find your friend?"

 Unexpectedly warmed by the woman's gentle grace, Anshi smiled softly.

"Thank

you," she murmured, and made a face at the little girl trundling blissfully

alongside her

mother.  Yui giggled and Anshi thrilled at the gleeful sound.

How many years would pass before she would have a child of her own?  To be

honest she'd never really thought much on it, but in her heart of hearts,

Anshi knew it

would probably never happen.  Her entire life she'd spent living for her

brother, then

after she left, looking for Utena.  Much may have changed, but never that.

Anshi knew

that Utena would want her to live her own life eventually, but Anshi just

couldn't forget

her savior that easily.

 "Here we are," announced the woman, and Anshi blinked in surprise.  She had

been woolgathering much too long; they must have walked five blocks without

her

noticing the distance at all.

"It's lovely," she murmured as they entered the warm shop. The neighborhood

bakery her new friend had brought her to was actually a bakery-deli combo.

There were

art deco paintings on the wall and even three threadbare comfy couches

nestled in the far

corner next to a happily brewing coffeepot.  Their feet clicked across

inlaid wooden

floors buffed to a warm and homey shine. The handsome willowy blond behind

the

counter smiled warmly at them as they entered and wiped his hands on a paper

towel.

The fresh, yeasty smell of the bread made Anshi's stomach growl with

appreciation and

at the sound the young woman at her side laughed merrily.  "Hungry?"

Anshi ducked her head and laughed a bit.  "I suppose I am.  I just ate

but^�well,

one roll wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Of course not," the woman laughed.  "Make it two and the usual, Adam."

The teenager behind the counter nodded.  "Sure thing, Miss Nurri."

"Nurri?" Anshi was glad to hear the woman's name.  Now she had a name to go

with the gentle, warm face.  "Arrigato, Nurri-san for your kindness."

Nurri-san stuck her tongue out at Anshi in a very childlike manner.  "Now,

now,

none of that 'san' business.  I left Japan when I was a kid, I don't intend

to go back and

play 'I'm more lowly than you' game.  Call me Yamika."

"But," Anshi protested, "I-"

Yamika frowned.  "No.  And that's final."

Smiling a bit in consternation, Anshi finally nodded.  "As you wish, Yamika.

But

I insist you call me Anshi."

"What a lovely name!" Yamika exclaimed as she settled Yui into the child's

booster seat and the waitress set a steaming bowl of fondu in front of them.

Anshi

glanced quizzically at the food and Yamika laughed.  "Oh, don't worry.  This

is my

cousin's shop.  He always sends out the 'gajin side of the family' cheese

fondu to go with

the bread bowl and rolls. It's his favorite recipe to torment me with. Eat

to your heart's

content, it's on the house."

Her stomach growled once more and Anshi laughed happily. There was

something about this woman that struck a familiar chord within her. She

might not be

Utena, but many of her mannerisms and kindnesses were similar.  It caused a

small pang

deep within the retired Rose Bride even as it warmed her heart.  As she dug

into the hot

mess of cheese and spices she sent up a quiet wish to whatever nearby gods

that might be

listening: Please, please let me find her.  Just one clue, that's all I ask.

Somewhere, someplace, someone must have been listening.

"Adam!" cried a young girl of about nine who rushed into the shop fresh from

school.  Long pink-tinted lavender locks spilled in waves down her back,

nicely

complementing her coffee au late complexion and scarlet jumper to

perfection.  "Adam,

Adam, Adam!!"

"Shush, Sari-chan," laughed the boy.  "You'll disturb the customers."

But it wasn't just the sudden arrival of the noisy child that drew Anshi's

attention.

It was the way the light played upon the necklace draped around the child's

neck.  The

very shiny silver necklace.  The very shiny silver necklace with a ring

dangling from the

end of it. The very shiny silver necklace with a swaying, dangling

rose-embossed ring.

Anshi felt faint.

The teenager, Adam, moved from around the counter and swung the child in a

high circle above his head.  "Did you miss me, you scamp?"

Sari giggled merrily.  "Of course I did!"

Setting her down on the floor, he called to the back: "Hey, Mister Saccaba?

My

kid sister's here!  Can I go on my break?"

A hand waved from around the corner and Anshi almost laughed at the sight of

it.

Yamika smiled and said, "He is so busy he just nods or waves at everything.

But when

he takes a break, he'll come visit with us.  How's the fondu?"

Anshi nodded, as her mouth was full.  She kept an eye on Adam and Sari as

she

wiped a little bit of cheese off her chin.  "It's wonderful.  I've never

tasted better."

Yamika nodded towards Adam and his sister.  "You seemed surprised when she

came in.  She reminds you of someone too?"  This was said with a teasing

grin, but Anshi

forced down a pang of regret at the words.  But it was more than just

regret; it was a

shiver of foreboding and a momentary overwhelming sense of fright.

"Actually," Anshi murmured, desperately ignoring the way her heart was

hammering away in her chest, "she does a bit.  Utena^�the woman I'm looking

for^�well, if she and someone I knew had a child, she would look quite a lot

like that

little girl over there."

Yamika frowned at the words.  "I wish you knew who that poor little girl

belonged to."  She put another bite of cheese-dipped bread in her mouth and

chewed

complacently while she watched her own daughter stuff herself on bread.

When she had

swallowed she sighed.  "Sari and Adam are both orphans at St. Christopher's.

My cousin

wants to hire her to do some small work in the back like sweeping so she can

start saving

money for ballet lessons.  He'd pay it himself, but St. Christopher's is

very strict on those

sorts of things.  The best he can do is offer the kids there part time and

summer jobs in

the bakeries and stores he owns."

A strange feeling was working its way through Anshi's stomach as Yamika

spoke.  This was sounding oddly familiar, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Orphans?"

Yamika nodded.  "Yeah.  I know Sari's story personally, she's in my dance

class

at the school."

Swallowing heavily, Anshi mustered her willpower and did something she

hadn't

done in years; she drew deep within her and found the one remaining bit of

magic she

had left.  "Tell me everything."

At the quiet words, Yamika turned to her guest with a frown.  "Now look,

Anshi,

you may be interested in the girl but I can't just^�" Her rebuttal was met

with the cool

green gaze of the witch one bright and innocent prince had freed almost ten

years before.

The words faded away and Yamika blinked sleepily.  "Everything?"

Anshi nodded.  "Everything."







Sari snuggled closer to Adam and tried to steal a bite of his sandwich off

his plate.

She loved Adam as much as anyone she knew, and it wasn't just because he was

handsome and kind and wonderful.  She loved Adam because he was her prince.

Oh, yes,

she knew he thought of her as a kid sister despite the fact they were both

orphans and

neither one of them had a single relative left in the world.  It didn't

matter to her; Adam

would always be her prince.

She'd known this since the day she'd started school, and Adam had saved her

from rabid dogs on the playground. One moment she'd been down on her knees

picking

up a dropped notebook, the next she'd been in the air, caught in the strong

arms of a nine-

year old boy as he pelted across the hot asphalt.  Sari hadn't cried- she'd

been surprised

to say the least, but even as the strange boy ran faster and faster she felt

no fear, only a

sense of safety and security.  They had come thundering up to the front door

of the school

and he'd practically dived through, still clutching Sari to his chest.  The

sliding glass door

slammed behind them and less then two seconds later there had been a heavy

thump as

the first of the dogs rammed headfirst into the glass. Adam had been

breathing heavily,

but Sari could tell it was more from triumph that exertion. It was at that

moment she fell

madly, desperately, and completely in love.  Only princes ran that fast and

were so

strong, just ask anyone.

He'd turned to her and said, "Hey kid, you'd better be more careful.  You

were

almost Chow Mix back there."

Sari had just given him what Yamika-momma liked to call her assessing look.

It

was a look that said, 'I'm looking you over right now.  Please hold.'  He

had shifted

uncomfortably and Sari decided to let him off the hook.  "Why would I want

to do that

when I have you?"  She smiled her gap-toothed grin and he'd first looked at

her like she

was nuts, then began laughing.

Sari had worshipped him since, to his embarrassment and his friend's endless

amusement. It didn't matter much, she knew how special someone like Adam was

and

wasn't about to let dumb boys keep her away from her one true love.  There

was only a

five and a half year difference between her and Adam, not long in the larger

scheme of

things, and come hell or high water, Adam would one day be hers.  Now what

to do to

keep him from other girls until then, that was the difficult part.

Sari sighed and snuck another sideways glance at him.  Adam would always see

her as a little girl as long as she remained one.  He was so old already;

fourteen almost

fifteen, and she wouldn't be turning ten until December.

She smiled secretly and glanced around the shop as Adam ate.  Her eyes

caught

on a strange and lovely woman sitting beside Yamika-momma's side and Sari

couldn't

help staring a little in surprise.

The woman's hair was the most striking shade of purple Sari had ever seen

and

her skin could have been a darker shadow of Sari's own.  She even had a

bindi in the

middle of her forehead like those exotic women in the history books.  Sari

self-

consciously brushed her slender hand across her forehead.  When she'd seen

those

pictures all those years ago she'd so desperately wanted to have a bindi and

a scarlet robe

and be an exotic and foreign princess like those women.  That is, until

she'd found out

that the bindi represented what caste a person came from and that it could

just as easily

mean she was subservient to a ton of people, never to be allowed to rise any

higher than

the position she was born in.  If anything, Sari did not believe in

subservience.  She was

an equal opportunity girl all the way and always had been.

Sari continued checking out the stranger, waiting for her prince to finish

his tuna

sub.  There was something so stylish and serene about the woman- not to

mention

graceful- that drew the eye.  The woman had on a jacket the same garish red

of Sari's

jumper and a black beret set on her tumbling waves at a jaunty angle.  Even

her long

black skirt seemed to shift with a conscious grace and ease that Sari envied

in her heart of

hearts. But it was more than that; there was something so sad about the way

the woman

held herself too.  Had she been hurt a long time ago by a lover or a friend

and was just

now beginning to heal?  Sari knew that she had an overactive imagination

when it came

to such things, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her intuition was

correct on that

count at least.  The woman was damaged in some distinct and important way

that just

wasn't visible to the naked eye, and Sari ached for her.

"You're being awfully quiet today, Squirt."

Sari jumped at the voice and returned her attention to Adam.  "Maybe you

just

couldn't hear me over the sounds of you making a pig of yourself."

Adam stuck his tongue out at her and Sari responded in kind.  The two tried

to

stare one another down and finally the blond boy gave in with a laugh when

Sari's hand

snuck out and tickled him.  "Hey!  That's cheating, you know."

Sari shrugged.  "All's fair in love and war," she saucily replied and

winked.  Then

her eyes were drawn back to the stranger like moths to a flame.  "Hey, Adam,

what's that

woman doing here?"

Her erstwhile prince shrugged.  "I don't know.  She just came in with Yamika

and

they ordered some food.  I don't keep tabs on the customers, Sari, you know

that."

 Sari frowned a bit, and stole a chip off his plate.  "Oh Adam, you're no

fun.

How're you going to know how to handle people unless you pay attention to

them, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and ruffled her hair.  "Maybe I don't want to

'handle'

people, Sari.  Maybe I like them the way they are."

Sari sniffed haughtily in response.  "You just don't know the right way to

do it."

Then she grew serious and fidgeted in her seat.  "But really^�Adam, don't you

think

she's beautiful?"

He looked over at the woman and shrugged again.  "I suppose so.  But she's

too

classy to me.  Doesn't look like she could hold her own if it came down to

it.  I don't like

women like that."

Storing this little bit of pertinent information away in the file cabinet of

her mind,

Sari frowned a bit.  "I don't know, don't you want to play the dashing

prince for some

girl someday?"  Please say yes, please say yes, please say^�

"Not really."

Damn.

"Well," she pressed, "why not?"

Adam gave Sari an exasperated look and made as if to get up.  "Look, Kid,

I've

got work to do and if you don't stop asking all these stupid questions I'm

going to^�"

"I'll stop," Sari muttered discontentedly. "Jeez, a girl just wants to ask

one or two

questions."

His arm snaked around her and Sari felt her heart thump a little harder in

her

chest.  Yep, for all of Adam's non-romantic moments, when he held her like

this^�it

made every one of them worthwhile.  He murmured in her ear and she pulled

away a bit.

"I didn't hear you."

Adam sighed and hugged her tighter.  "I said," he groused, "that you should

just

leave the poor woman alone.  Go to dance class and I'll walk you home later,

okay?"

 She wrinkled her nose at him in what she hoped was a cute gesture.  "Why do

you

want to walk me home?  Afraid I can't handle myself?"

Her heart thumped again as Adam frowned.  This time the frown was different,

it

was more protective and fierce then annoyed.  "If anything happened to you

Sari, I'd

make who ever did it regret being born.  But no, it's not that I think

anything would

happen, it's just that I'd feel better being there anyway.  You don't mind,

right?"

She shook her head rapidly, trying to take in air through her tight throat.

"Not at

all," she whispered breathily.  "See you at seven then."

Adam nodded and he leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Have fun, Sari."

"Right," she muttered as she walked out the door, conscious that the woman's

eyes were following her every move now.  "Fun."

As she trudged down the street to class, Sari tried hard to not think about

the

strange woman or Adam.  Now was the time to prepare for what lay ahead.  Or,

to more

precise, who lay ahead.

Erin Moanohie was the bane of young Sari's life.  She was twelve and thought

that just because she was stronger than everyone else at St. Christopher's

that meant she

could rule over them.  Plus she was already wearing a training bra and let

all the littler

girls know it.  It was a mark of pride and she abused it on a daily basis.

Sari loathed and

despised bullies with a violent passion.  The main problem was that Erin was

a decent

dancer and when time for performances rolled around it was always a tossup

between the

graceful and tiny Sari and the tall and swanlike Erin.  So far they were on

equal ground.

Sari had gotten to play the Mermaid Princess and Snow White whereas Erin had

been

given Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel.  The only performance left was the

Christmas show

and today the decisions from last week's auditions would be posted. As far

as anyone

knew it was going to be that wonderful old Christmas stand in, The

Nutcracker.

Personally, Sari knew she was a shoe in for the role of the Sugarplum Fairy.

Erin

hadn't practiced the piece at all until a week before the auditions and so

she didn't know

the ins and outs of it quite the same way Sari did.  But what Sari was

worried about

wasn't during practice, but rather after.  Long after, like say, after the

lights were out and

Erin was free to sneak out of her room and make poor Sari's life miserable

by dropping

rats in her bed or tearing her posters or even trying to get into her

drawers again.

Sari's delicate face twisted into a scowl at that.  Though she wore her

necklace

twenty four-seven, she was terrified that one day she would wake up to

discover Erin had

somehow managed to take her necklace off in the middle of the night and

conveniently

'lose' it.  She shuddered at the thought.  As it was the only thing she had

of her mother,

the thought of losing her necklace horrified her.

After a few short blocks Sari finally arrived at the dance academy.

"You're late, Sari dear," called Madame Norris as Sari rushed across the

floor

towards the changing rooms.  "You'll stay after as punishment."

"Yes, Madame Norris," she called back, grimacing a little.  She'd spent too

much

time with Adam on his break, but that exotic woman had caught her attention

and she

hadn't been paying attention to the time.  Oh well, she needed practice on

her high kicks

anyway.

Sari quickly donned her favorite leotard and tights, before slipping on her

jazz

shoes.  It was Thursday, which meant they were working on combinations, not

concentrating on one style of dance or another.  Sari had once read a

Japanese comic

book ^�Adam had smugly informed her they were called manga and she'd just

ignored

him- where the main guy practiced a style of martial arts called Anything

Goes. Well if a

dance class could be considered an Anything Goes style, this one would be

it.  They did

everything but cheerleading and that was just because Madame Norris thought

it was

beneath them.

Sari paused in front of the mirror to adjust the leotard and pull her hair

back into

its customary bow, but something caught her eye.  Even though she was still

young, Sari

knew one day she'd be very pretty if not downright beautiful.  It wasn't

just the fact she

had exotic coloring naturally- her pale tinted hair and dark skin were

certainly a

distinctive combination- nor was it the fact she would probably always be

tiny and

delicate her entire life ^�even at nine Sari could tell she wasn't going to

grow to be too

much taller.  At best she'd be five feet with an inch or two to spare.  It

was more than just

that, it was the look in her eyes.  It reminded her so much of the woman in

the coffee

shop.

I want something, Sari realized.  I'm not happy here, am I?

But what could she want that she didn't have?  She had a reminder of her

mother;

that was more than anyone else at St. Christopher's had, she had a wonderful

companion

and protector rolled into one (one that all of the girls adored on top of

that), and she was

phenomenally intelligent.  What more could a girl want?

A family.

Sari grimaced and yanked a brush through her thick hair.  Family was a silly

notion.  Family implied something stable and permanent and eternal.  Family

suggested a

home with a cat perched on the windowsill and a kitchen filled with shiny

pots and pans

and only four or five bedrooms with only four or five people.  Family made

you think of

holiday breaks and board games and silly fights because so many people were

crammed

into a little car on a family vacation.  Family^�

Family^�

Family was just silly.

Sari continued yanking her brush harder and harder through her defenseless

hair,

bullying the knots into submission as she thought about the implications of

family.

In a family you had people that stayed up late at night and worried about

you if

you stayed after in dance class.  You had guilt trips if you didn't do the

dishes, you had

breakups over silly things like who your brother wanted to marry or what

that crazy aunt

on your dad's side said last Christmas.  You were tied down, you had roots.

The thought made Sari shiver.  You had people depending on you to be perfect

and loving and most importantly of all, there.  You couldn't just up and run

away to

Japan on a moment's notice to explore the origins of a strange rose-crested

ring you

found with your birth certificate.  You couldn't try and find your dead

mother's grave or

hunt down the man that abandoned her and left her alone and pregna^�

Sari broke off that line of thinking.  This is silly, she thought.  Why did

that

woman have such an effect on me?  I don't get it.

She frowned and took one last look at herself in the mirror.

Hair tied back in a tight bun?

Check.

Favorite black leotard on straight with no wedgies?

Check

Jazz shoes laced up tightly and tights pulled up?

Check.

Mentally prepared for Erin?

No, but that could be fixed.

Sari grinned roguishly and raced out the door to the dance floor.

It was going to be a long and worthwhile night.





Adam filled two fresh glasses of tea and brought them to Yamika and her

guest.

They'd been talking in earnest ever since his break with Sari and that had

been two hours

ago.  He hoped it wasn't something too important, that woman looked like she

could be

some sort of inspector or something and the last thing the shop needed right

now was an

audit or a health code violation.

He frowned at himself as he set the cups down and was absently thanked.

That

had been a silly thought; the back was spotless and nothing, come hell or

high water,

would make the IRS audit them.

Sighing, he returned to the counter and began cleaning up for the day.  It

would be

late soon and he'd have to go get Sari.  If she was tardy to her lessons,

she would be

staying behind and that would mean almost an hour of waiting and watching

her practice.

He didn't mind though.

Adam loved watching people dance and always had.  He could two-step with the

best of them, but when it came down to actual performance art he left all

the plies and

grapevines to Sari.  She was incredibly good at it too, already Adam could

see that a few

years from now she'd be beating off the offers to train at the world's

finest dancing

academies.  In a way it saddened him.

When he really looked deep at those feelings, the thought of her leaving did

more

than just that though. When he thought of Sari waltzing her way out of his

life it terrified

him.  It wasn't just that Sari had the world's largest crush on him; it was

more than that.

Adam loved her a great deal, maybe not fully in the way she fantasized

about, but he

hoped to be there when the day arrived that she realized exactly how unique

and special

she was.  In his own way Adam recognized the fact that even at nine Sari was

ravishingly

pretty and well on her way to drop dead beautiful.  It was just the fact

that he couldn't

quite equate in his mind the bright and bubbly five year old he'd met all

those years ago

to the stunning little girl who was growing up more each and every day.

Adam sighed.  He couldn't do much in this world, he knew and understood that

perfectly.  Unlike Sari, Adam had no real desire to seek out his family.

Thanks to a late

night raid through the record cabinets and a hacked computer job he knew the

answer to

every burning question he'd asked himself.  It hadn't been that someone

hadn't wanted

him; it was just that life sucked and circumstances had made things

convoluted.  He was

okay with that.  Maybe one day he'd hunt out distant relations he now had

addresses for,

maybe one day he wouldn't.  Either way, at least he knew.

On the other hand, knowing the little bit of knowledge she did about her

mother

and the ring she always wore made Sari even more desperate to know about her

past.  It

had been Sari who'd found the spare key to the office, Sari who'd hunted

until she found

the key to the locked cabinets, Sari who'd studied the school's computer

system until

she'd found a loophole into their records.

The damn kid was way too smart for her own damn good.

Next to her, Adam felt just like a dumb jock.

Finishing the cleanup job, Adam waved at Yamika and her guest before

clocking

out.  He had a snoop to go pick up.







Anshi sat back.  That had been a long story indeed.  When she'd told the

woman

to tell her everything, she hadn't intended Yamika's impressions of the

young girl as

well.  Oh well, it was for the best.  Now she had a clear idea who this Sari

was and

exactly what she was doing there.

A small smile drifted across her lips.  Even after seeing the ring, she'd

had her

doubts.  Who knew how many women Akio had been with over the years?  It was

quite

possible her ever-vigilant brother had slipped up one and had mistakenly

sent a girl away

from Ohtori with more than just a diploma to see her off into the real

world.

But it was the girl's full name that cinched it.

Himemiya Sari.

She had a niece.

Anshi fiddled with her cup, watching the dregs of the tea slip along the

bottom in

a sort of peaceful stupor. Whatever in the world had possessed Utena to

leave her child in

America?

Sighing inwardly, Anshi left Yamika with a closing spell.  It would make the

woman very happy, and give her a sense of accomplishment.  It wasn't

necessary to dull

this one's memories; she was too open and honest for it to work long anyway.

Yamika

had done what was right, now it was just a matter of making her know that.

Once finished, Anshi said her polite goodbyes and followed the boy Adam out

into the street.  She had heard his quiet whisper from earlier and decided

on the spot that

when he left, she would too.

After all, it wasn't every day that the clue you'd been searching for just

bounded

into your life with a tinkle of a shop-bell and a gust of fresh October air.





"And one, and two, and three, and four- kick higher Sari dear, your form is

getting sloppy."

Grimacing in pain, Sari straightened her back and fought to kick higher.  In

her

few short years as a dancer she'd gained a reputation for being the most

flexible member

of the company, surpassing even Madame Norris for sheer freak-show factor.

She could

bend her body in ways that even hurt to look at, but still that wasn't

enough for the

Russian-trained instructor.  "More," she commanded, laying her hand in the

small of

Sari's back.  "You are overconfident, Sari.  It's making you off-balance.

Slow down and

try again."  The music, a slow, throbbing beat punctuated the words as well

as an

occasional tribal yell.

Sari closed her eyes, found her center, and began again.  Dimly she heard

the far

door open, but she kept them tightly shut as she swept her leg in it's

continual high arc

and tried for the world not to scream as the burning heat in her thighs

increased.

"That's enough for one day, Sari.  Thank you."

Sari nearly dropped from exhaustion.  As it was, she slowly slid to the

floor and

lay there panting as Madame Norris turned off the stereo and went to her

office to finish

up the night's paperwork before going home.  The familiar clomp of Adam's

feet on the

dance floor brought her out of it enough to grimace.  "Shoes," she reminded

him.

"Oh, yeah.  Sorry," he called as he quickly dropped to the floor and slid

off his

shoes.  That done, he crawled over on his hands and knees and laid her head

in his lap,

stroking her sweaty hair.  "Looks like you worked really hard today,

Squirt."

"You're telling me," she panted.  "But the good news is, I got the part."

He grinned.  "So I can look forward to you dancing through my head come

Christmas time, Ms. Fairy?"

Sari shook her head.  "No.  It's crazy, but the other two dance instructors-

you

know the really weird new ones? - decided on a different show this year.

We're doing

something called 'The Rose Prince's Return'.  How weird is that?"

"Pretty weird," he agreed.  "Sounds almost like it should be performed for

Halloween, not Christmas.  So who do you play?"

Pursing her lips, Sari frowned.  "You know, I don't know.  All I know is

that

when I looked at the corkboard it just said I had the lead and that all the

other girls were

'G-ko through Z-ko' with some 'random plot devices' for others.  Too strange

for me."

"G-ko?  What kind of character is that?"  he mused.  "Oh well, maybe they'll

tell

you more tomorrow."

Grimacing as she sat up, Sari groaned.  "No practice tomorrow.  Madame

Norris

is going to be busy, and the other two teachers have jobs with drama schools

around town

so everything was cancelled tomorrow.  That plus the day off from school and

I get to

sleep in."

"Lucky," he chided.  "I have to work first thing in the morning."

She stuck her tongue out at him.  "Ha, ha.  You have to work."

He shook his head in defeat.  "Go get dressed, Squirt.  You need to take a

hot

shower when we hit the dorms.  You stink."

Sari smacked him lightly on the arm and trudged off to the changing room.

She

must have really worked hard today, he thought, she always runs everywhere.

She really

looks beat.  Maybe I'll offer to piggyback her home.

A few minutes later, Adam was doing just that.

As the two made their way through the early evening throng, Anshi silently

followed.  As soon as she knew where the two were staying, she could rest

easy.  After

all, she was the only one other than Utena who now knew that Sari existed.

Surely after

all this time it would be safe to just take a day or two break?  Ohtori

could wait, if only

for a little bit longer.

Just a little bit.

<<



-Shitsureishimasu ^_^

[Goodbye (very polite)]

-Jason Monti

jmm769s@smsu.edu (primary)

jmm314@yahoo.com

http://www.student.smsu.edu/j/jmm769s/home.htm







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