Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ Memory of the Rose ❯ Chapter Thirteen ( Chapter 15 )

Chapter Thirteen

"After awhile you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul; you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security; you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises. You begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open- with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child. And you learn to build all your roads on today because the ground of tomorrow is too uncertain for plans. And after awhile you learn that even the warm sunshine burns if you bask too much. So plant your garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really are strong.

And you really do have worth." -- Anonymous

The Council Room was unusually chilly, Nurikia noted as she and Makoto stepped inside. They exchanged glances and looked curiously around what was normally a cavernous room. Today, however, everywhere they looked desks were stacked almost as high as the ceiling. The effect was a rather like a dark and tottering beehive. Only a fraction of the normal amount of natural light filtered through to the elevator entrance.

"Odd," Nurikia murmured, striding to the nearest desk and inelegantly poking at it. "There must be a hundred of them."

"I don't know," Makoto said, joining her. "I kind of like it." He adjusted the tight collar of his new uniform and ran one hand through his spiky bangs. He'd washed out the last of the temporary dye earlier in the day, but his bangs were still slightly wet, giving them a darker appearance than the rest of his hair. Nudging Nurikia gently aside, he poked his head under the first desk and looked around.

"Hey," he grunted. "Once you get past the third or fourth desk some rows open up. I can see the balcony from here."

Nurikia knelt beside him in his undignified crouch and looked for herself. "Apparently Tama-sempai has already arrived," she noted dryly, spying their President's spotless red shoes at the far end of the strange makeshift corridor. "He probably didn't want us to see him crawling. So shall we?"

He started forward, crawling around the obstacles as best he could, with Nurikia on his heels. The path was dusty, strangely, and as she passed some of the desks Nurikia noted the petty little vandalism of school life carved into random desktops. Hearts crudely scratched into upper corners of the desks. Black marker declared that Hiroshi loved Aya and Hatsuragi-sensai was a dork. But one desk caught her eye over all the others. Perhaps it was the sheer number of markings what should have been a smooth top. Perhaps it was the fact that the markings were so cleverly engrained in the wood that she only noticed it by chance. Perhaps it was just that it seemed older than the desks surrounding it-- it seemed to have seen more, existed longer than the other desks.

She paused, backtracked a bit, and then ran her hand across the desktop, not quite believing her eyes. The kanji were neatly carved, almost with an expert hand. The edges were smooth; there was no chance of Nurikia getting an errant splinter. But what really amazed her is the fact that the kanji worked WITH the grain of the wood, not against. They flowed along the woodwork, flawless in their intricacy.

"Oi! Nurikia-san?" Makoto was at her side suddenly. "What's up? Why did you stop?"

Indicating the desk, Nurikia moved back to allow him a clear view. "Look at this."

Makoto leaned forward and pulled out a pair of glasses from his pocket. Nurikia's eyes widened- Makoto wore glasses? She had never known that.

"What?" he asked, looking at her owlishly through the thick lenses.

Clearing her throat, she pointed to a particularly long line of kanji. "Look at this. 'They walk in Nemuro Hall.' Which is pretty weird right? But then, right beside it, is this: 'All little girls are princesses and all men are fallen angels.' What the hell is this?"

Makoto frowned. "Should we tell the Ends of Innocence about this?"

"I think Ends of Innocence put it there in the first place to mess with our minds," came Jitsu's voice from the darkness behind them. Both jumped and both banged their heads onto the bottom of the desk above them causing the whole delicate structure to shiver slightly.

"CAREFUL!" Jitsu hissed, crawling past them rapidly. "Move your butts, we're late for the meeting."

The pair shared another look, then followed the younger boy until they were once again basking in the bright daylight out on the Council balcony. Tama said nothing as they approached the chair he had sprawled out on. In his hand was a slender dagger. This in and of itself wasn't so strange. Tama was a weapons fiend. He was always fondling something sharp and pointy. But normally his weapons were superb examples of craftsmanship, silver and shining and dangerous. This dagger was dark.

It took the three of them a moment to realize that the dagger he was holding was covered in dried blood.

Makoto frowned and stepped forward as he approached his cousin. "Tama…"

The knife quivered at his feet and he stumbled back. Tama had missed his big toe by a fraction of an inch at most- the leather of his boots was creased with a neat line. Nurikia remained as impassive as possible but Jitsu's eyes had gone wide. His skin was paler than usual.

Tama was frightening them all.

"Where's Heero?" Tama questioned, still not rising from his casual lounge. "Where is our missing Representative?"

Nurikia closed her eyes and stepped forward, inwardly praying that Tama would skewer her. "He's probably trying to maneuver his way through that maze of desks back there, Tama-sempai. He'll be here."

Tama looked up and Nurikia was startled to see the large purpling bruise across his high cheekbone. She knew that Tama had lost to Adam the previous night in an impromptu duel. They all did. Thus the emergency meeting. But that bruise was not from the duel. Somehow she knew that deep down inside. Adam didn't often go for the face, she remembered that much about the boy, and besides, the bruise was too fresh, barely beginning to bloom across his face. Her clinical mind took in the options. Either he had done it to himself or someone had been there and had disappeared just before they arrived. If it was the later rather than the former, that could mean trouble. Only one being on this campus could move so stealthily as to pass them in the echoing corridor of stacked desks without their noticing. Ends of Innocence. She shivered. None of them except Tama and Sari knew whom the Ends of Innocence was. They might have heard the whispered conversation about the desk.

Somehow she hoped not. The Ends of Innocence promised unlimited power, yes, but they also required a great sacrifice for such a gift.

Tama seemed to read her mind. He smiled, and it was a bitter grin. A soft sound behind them drew their attention and Nurikia couldn't help the feeling of relief as Heero arrived. He was adjusting the collar of his uniform and plucking an errant strand of hair off his chest when he stopped. "What?" he asked innocently. "Did I miss something?"

Their esteemed President rose to his feet and held up a letter. "Not at all, Heero-kun. Not at all. As this meeting is rather important it is not going on record, understood? First order of business is that I have the official delegations for this term's Student Council from the hand of Ends of Innocence. Hot off the presses, lady and gentlemen." He waved the manila envelope around, then broke the crimson seal on it.

"This year's President is naturally, myself." He grinned and seemed to calm somewhat. "Nurikia-chan, you have your coveted Secretary position. Heero, you still hold the Representative seat."

Then he paused and his lips tightened. "Interesting," he murmured. "Makoto, you shall hold the position of Treasurer this year...which leaves Jitsu-kun as Vice President."

Jitsu blinked and looked over with surprise at Makoto. Neither protested the last minute switch of their positions- to do so would likely incite the wrath of Ends of Innocence- but it was strange indeed. Nurikia opened her mouth to protest on their behalf, but quickly shut her trap. She realized Sari had said something a few days previous about that. Nurikia hadn't bothered correcting her, figuring that the younger girl was mistaken about the positions or something equally likely, but apparently the Bride had been correct after all.

"Congratulations," Tama said, dropping the letter onto a nearby table. "Now, for the second order of business, Nurikia-chan, please read the minutes from the last meeting."

Nurikia complied, frowning slightly over her hurried notes. "You had a scheduled duel tomorrow," she murmured, glancing up at Tama. "I suppose we will have to reschedule with the Victor now?"

Tama snorted. "I am going to challenge Adam-san again. The duel shall remain as scheduled. It was a mere fluke that I lost the challenge so abruptly. It won't happen again." He fingered his cheekbone and his eyes flashed. Nurikia nodded, but inwardly shivered. Tama-sempai was very cold most of the time anyway, but Adam-san's arrival had made him go almost glacier.

"Third order of business," Tama said softly, still stroking his bruise. "Practice."

The dagger that had nearly skewered Makoto's foot was suddenly in his hand though Nurikia had no idea how it got there with him barely moving. He reached forward, almost casually, and swiped at Nurikia's face with it. She gasped and stumbled back, falling out of her chair. He wanted to practice NOW? With her unarmed?!

Tama swiped at her again and she grunted as she kicked his arm. Apparently so. Okay then. To Nurikia, any weapon would suffice in a pinch. Thus, she wasn't too particular what she was fighting with as long as it was long and pointy. The sword Jitsu passed her certainly fit the description she desired. It was longer than her arm, and came to a very fine pencil-like point. It even made a nice zip sound as she passed it through the air a few times to test its weight.

It seemed sturdy enough at first. But then, as she was swinging the borrowed rapier high above her head, Nurikia gasped as the sword went flying from her grip and impaled the wood above Heero's head. Right above Heero's head. About, say, two inches.

To say the least, Heero was not pleased.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?! You're gonna get me killed!"

Nurikia blushed slightly with anger, and hurried to Heero's side. Removing the rapier from the wall, she glared at him. "Trust me. I have a plan."

"She has a plan," Heero mimicked. "Tama's gone psycho and she has a plan. Is your plan getting us killed? Because if it is, I propose we go for plan B."

Keeping her voice light in order to hide her anger, Nurikia ruffled Heero's perfectly arranged hair. "Plan B? The one where you go nuts and Tama gets killed? I think I can live with that one too." She narrowly avoided a hard smack on the arm as she turned around and faced the wild-eyed President. "I'm prepared."

Tama oozed a chuckle. He looked so odd! What had the Ends of Innocence done to him? "Do you truly believe you can defeat me, little girl? With that tiny thing you plan to Descend with the Bride at your side?"

"That's what I said," Jitsu muttered, trying to avoid getting smacked by either Nurikia or Tama. "Look where it got me."

Swallowing the comeback that leapt to her tongue, Nurikia frowned and met her opponent's eyes. "I'm not letting you do this to yourself, Tama-sempai. You'll get the girl back. She's just an object after all."

"Very well then," he stepped forward, somewhat calmer. The bruise on his face was now black and blue. "Commence."

Following his lead with a shaky air, Nurikia hefted her new weapon and wished with all her might for the ability to turn back the hand of time half an hour. That would be all she needed to collect Heero and Jitsu and Makoto then make a beeline for the woods before the meeting. Tama, normally cool and collected Tama, was shaking with the effort of even standing. But a challenge of sorts had been issued. It was her duty to stand her ground.

There was nothing to be done about it now. Raising her rapier, Nurikia tried to copy the opening pose she'd seen Touga-sempai use with that woman Adam knew. Sempai hadn't known she'd been watching. He hadn't known that it was his fire, HIS touch that made her seek out Ohtori and the duels. But somehow Ends of Innocence had known. Somehow it had known.

Much to her chagrin, there was laughter in the maze of desks. Jitsu and Heero both jumped. Makoto just watched, his face twisted into something darker than usual. He looked angry.

Steps sounded behind her.

"Surely, boy, you don't intend to bully this beginner, do you?"

Nurikia turned at the voice and found herself nose to chest with a wide swath of white and red. It was a white shirt to be exact, complete with red tie, and beneath was a tight fitting pair of black breeches. That in itself wasn't so surprising except for the fact they were covering a very tall, very pale man who she used to know…no way.

Kiryuu Touga glanced down at her, and opened his palm. Without a word, Nurikia dropped the sword hilt into it and was off like a rocket to the sidelines beside Jitsu and Heero. It was truly starting out as a strange day.

Jitsu whistled softly under her breath. "Jeeze, Nurikia, you must have a guardian watching out for you or something."

Watching her ex-teacher take a casual stance opposite her former opponent, Nurikia barely heard the words. "Why do you say that?"

"You don't recognize him from the pictures? He's the President of the first Student Council Ohtori had!" He gestured to a class photo hanging on for dear life just inside the doorway.

Nurikia glanced at it and shook her head, frowning. "What are you talking about? That's Kiryuu Touga. He's my old riding instructor, Jitsu-san."

Heero blinked in surprise. "What the hell is your old riding instructor doing HERE?"

Makoto seemed less impressed by the weird coincidence than the others. He seemed more intent on the fight itself. "And he's going to bat for you. Can this day get any weirder?"

Heero and Nurikia returned their attention to the man who was still standing in a loosely casual stance, awaiting attack. He looked like an ordinary man; about six foot, with a long red braid and very bronze skin. Heero couldn't tell if it was due to a tan or if he was that weird East Indian sect of people that Makoto and Tama belonged to. It didn't matter, but it made him all the more interesting and mysterious. After all, what in the world was a member of Ohtori's first Student Council (and, oddly enough, Nurikia's RIDING INSTRUCTOR) doing in the Council room anyway? And how did he get past the desks without them hearing him?

He glanced over his shoulder and almost jumped in surprise. Somehow, someway, the desks had all vanished. Mysteriously.

Weird.

"So," Makoto ventured, "I take that to mean he knows how to fight?"

Nurikia harrumphed. "Of course he knows how to fight. I saw him fight a couple of times during breaks. He's practically unbeatable. He'll win this for sure. But-"

"But what?"

Nurikia shivered. "I just don't know if he's ever had to deal with someone like Tama-sempai before. Especially when he's like… that."

Tama, sneering and cold, but somehow not collected in the least… was indeed like… that.

Meanwhile, Makoto was ignoring the exchange and watching the two men intently. It was like watching two statues, though both stood in ready positions, neither moved more than to bat an eyelash. Watching their silent battle was eerie.

As if some invisible referee dinged a bell, suddenly the two men were at each other, blades flashing. Curses rung through the still morning air, and for the first time in her life Nurikia tried desperately not to let her face show her utter surprise though she felt as if her stomach was going to walk away without her. "How can they move that fast? It's not human."

"Of course it is." Heero glared at Nurikia with an undisguised air of arrogance. "They're just really good."

"But you just said that meant he was some part of the Original Council or something, didn't you?" Heero watched the fight with a worried eye. Tama was more than holding his own, but those naked blades worried him. Maybe they should get the Dean to break all this strangeness up?

"Yeah, he was a part of the Council," Jistu muttered. "President if I guess right. Tama's position." He snorted softly and returned her eyes to the battle currently waging in front of them.

Tama was currently seeping his sword in a high hard arc towards Touga. If it connected, it would most likely take off Touga's head, a fact Nurikia was strangely positive of. She'd never seen anyone fight with such ferocity before, not even the first time Tama had been battling Jitsu for Sari the first time around. That had been fluid motion and studied, almost casual blocks and parries. But the way Tama was fighting now was all angles and hard right elbows and edges. He was a fury, a whirling man made of force and fire and skill.

She was very glad Touga had her sword now. Even more than that, she was overjoyed Tama's weapon wasn't pointed at her.

"I wonder what he's doing here?" Heero continued. "I mean he graduated forever ago, right?"

Nurikia had been wondering that fact herself. There was something strangely alien in her old sempai. It was attractive, but in a fire and ice sort of way. There would be little tenderness in this warrior's heart, only a blazing strength that would sap all weakness around it. He appeared to be an Amazon in a country full of yes-men. He was...beautiful.

Jitsu puckered his lips and watched the man fight with a practiced eye. "He's not a teacher, that's for sure. He can't be."

At the strange comment, both Heero and Nurikia cast confused glances towards the boy. Nurikia raised her hand. "I beg your pardon? What gave you that idea?"

She indicated the men with a twist of her palm, suddenly excited. "Look at how quickly he moves. Maybe he's the new Kendo instructor. They didn't hire anyone after Tswabuki-sensai passed on."

"Are you kidding me?" Jitsu grumbled. "Kendo? He doesn't look the type."

"Speed and endurance are always more important than brute strength. But he's plenty strong," Makoto mused. "Look at that."

Tama skidded across the floor and he winced. "That one's gonna hurt."

Cheeks burning from unknown feelings, Nurikia clamped her mouth shut. Despite the tussle which tossed Tama across the room, nothing much had happened after the first flurry of blows. The two combatants circled one another warily, but they seemed evenly matched for the most part.

"ENOUGH!" cried a voice and the four Council members jerked around in surprise. Both Tama and Touga lowered their swords and looked at the newcomer.

"Ohtori-san," Touga said, tossing his sword aside. Makoto caught it almost reflexively. "It's a pleasure."

Tama said nothing, just breathed heavily and sneered. Somehow during the fight he had opened his stitches again. Blood soaked the upper thigh of his school uniform, barely noticeable against the dark fabric.

"Kiryuu," the dean growled. "My office. Now. I did not ask you here to play with the students."

Nurikia's eyes widened. The Dean had asked him here? Perhaps that meant…?

"Take care, Nuri-chan," murmured Touga as he passed, patting her lightly on her shoulder. "I'll see you in class."

YES!

The pair of them disappeared and the Council milled around a bit, uncertain what in the hell was going on.

"Fourth order of business," Tama's voice said and they turned, surprised to find him cool and collected once more. "Jitsu-kun, please take that video camera to the Audio Visual room. Ends of Innocence wants a complete tape of the fight by Tuesday." He indicated a dark shadow in the corner. Jitsu nodded, surprise evident on his face.

"It was a setup," Makoto chuckled. "You set us up, man!"

Tama shrugged. "Had to look believable, ne? Good try, Nurikia-chan," he smirked, bowing slightly to her. "But I would have wiped the floor with you."

"Perhaps," she murmured. "Perhaps not."

Jitsu gathered the video camera and they continued the meeting in relative peace. But the entire time Nurikia wondered and mused. Had he known Touga would save her? Or would he have skewered her anyway? The thought brought a shiver to her bones and a glazed look to her eyes.

She wasn't sure.

She just wasn't sure.

Plink.

Plink. Plink.

Sari glanced up at the sound of water dropping in the sink. The kitchen sink had been leaky for weeks now, but every time she mentioned it to Ends of Innocence she just nodded slowly and promised it would all be well.

She glanced at her watch. It was eleven-forty but Adam still wasn't home from the library. Groaning, she pushed away from her desk and stalked to the dorm bathroom. Grabbing a washcloth off the rod, she dropped it under the faucet and returned to her Calculus. Math was never her strong suit; she was a dancer at heart and always would be no matter happened, no matter what Ohtori and the Ends of Innocence made her do. And she certainly had no desire to remain a Rose Bride forever, despite all the words Utena spoke of her duty. She and her trusty sword would rise to the top one day and escape this hell, she was sure of it.

The only question was how.

Numbers in her textbook did a little dance before Sari's tired eyes. She'd been working on her homework for two hours now, and all she had left was one very impossible problem. All she had to do was that one problem and she'd be done for the night.

Just that one problem.

Groaning, she buried her face in her hands and tried to be as calm as possible. It was almost midnight, and if she didn't get this done, Utena would skin her alive in the morning. For some reason her education was very intermittently important to the woman. One day she insisted Sari attend every class and pass with flying colors, the next all she desired was Sari's presence in the Garden, watering the roses.

The problem was finally complete. Sari padded into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower before slipping into a thin pale blue night shift. Utena had let her know that with THIS Victor she was allowed any means to keep him happy. Any means. Sari winced, trying not to think of Adam like that. She loved him, she supposed, or she had once upon a time. Now all she knew was pain and fear and lust. The thought of sullying Adam with her soul scared her.

She crawled into bed and slept uneasily until early, early morning.

The sheets were cool on her flesh.

Opening her eyes to the familiar ceiling, Sari frowned but only slightly. A soft snore from the bunk below her own drew her attention to the other occupant of the room.

Adam.

How impossible it was that after all these years he would return to her like a prince from a fairy tale. How strange and beautiful and frightening all at once. Sari couldn't quite believe it, but Nurikia confirmed it with the awe in her expression that day on the platform. Sari hadn't even known Nurikia LIKED horses, much less was an expert equestrian. She supposed there was a lot to know about the Student Council and the duelists than she ever would have imagined. Adam, however, recognized the Secretary at once and the pair of them spent part of the ride to Ohtori discussing the pros and cons of Arabian horseflesh versus other breeds before falling into their own musings. Sari, as she hadn't permission from Nurikia to speak, had remained quiet and looked out the window for most of the trip. Adam had made a few attempts to draw her into the conversation but a curt motion from Nurikia kept Sari's lips firmly closed. She just nodded or shook her head at the questions her old friend had, all the while the wind turned her hair to flyaway ribbons of bright color as the afternoon darkened with the approaching storm.

But that had been two days ago.

Much had occurred since.

Sari rolled over in bed and studied the lines of shadows shifting against the floor of the bedroom. She never would have believed Adam to be that…

"Sari?" a blurry, tired voice queried in English.

Stiffening, Sari closed her eyes and licked her lips. "Yes, Adam-sama?"

She could picture his expression at her deference to him. "Sari, why can't you call me Adam like you used to when we were young?"

"Because," she replied in her flawless and eloquent Japanese, "Adam-sama, things aren't like they were when we were young. You are Adam-sama now and I am to be addressed properly as an underclassman if you refuse to call me your Bride." There. Hopefully that would shut him up. Ends of Innocence had told her to treat him like any other Victor. That meant she was to deflect any nosy line of questioning and keep him in the dark about just about everything in regards to his position as Victor and hers as Rose Bride.

She could feel his frustration through the silence. The last week had been hectic and frightening for all involved, but it had to be worse for Adam than any of the others. Those Ends of Innocence had chosen had known their place from the start; even tempestuous Nurikia understood the fine balance of power better than Adam did. Only one of them would be able to win Sari in the end, only one of them would be able to use her power to descend into the Garden and break the Seal. So far none had even come close to being worthy, a fact the Ends of Innocence was mightily perturbed about.

"Sari." Again in that flat English with just a trace of Brooklyn accent as if by speaking that tongue would touch her in some way. Fool.

"Yes, Adam-sama?" In Japanese.

"Damn it," he cried, sitting up so violently the bed shook. "Damn it, Sari, what the hell is going on here?" She felt the shift of his weight on the bed frame as he nimbly joined her on the top bunk. She moved over an inch or two to make room for him to settle beside her on the bed. His leg was hot against her own; she could feel his warmth through the thin shift of her nightgown. "Pick a language already!"

"I have, Adam-sama," she replied with the same unshakable calm. "I choose to speak Japanese."

He was looking at her she could tell, but she kept her eyes closed purposefully ignoring his blatant curiosity.

"Talk to me," he demanded almost childishly, stubbornly sticking to English. "We haven't had a chance to really talk since my return."

"What do you wish to talk about, Adam-sama?" she responded, taking care to speak slowly as if he were a foreigner that wouldn't understand every word she said.

Adam tensed beside her; she could feel the coiling of his muscles at her not-quite insult, but after a moment he relaxed and calmed. "Well," he responded in Japanese, "do you still dance?"

"No, I do not." Sari felt him start in surprise beside her at this as if she'd said something very shocking. She supposed that, to him, her admission WAS shocking. His memories of her previous to this past week had most likely been comprised of a small pale child with too-large blue eyes carrying a dance duffel bag. Her lips almost twitched in a smile at that. How long ago that had been!

"Why not?" he asked, taking her hand in his and playing with her fingertips as he often had as a child.

Sari shrugged and allowed her hand to go limp and loose. She would not encourage his affections; that was not her duty. Whatever Adam chose to do to her as the Victor she could not, would not, deny him. That didn't mean she had to help him along. "I grew out of it, I suppose."

In actuality, it had been the Ends of Innocence who had decreed she stop her dancing in favor of taking up the sword once more. It was rather disturbing, as her new teachers were both Ohtori-san and the Ends of Innocence herself, quite often both at once. They taught her stamina and skill beyond her wildest imaginings. The only problem was that the Dean Ohtori fought like a dead man and Miss Utena was insane…not to put too fine a point on it.

'You need a worthy Victor,' she thought to herself as Adam studied her face. 'That was her price. Find a worthy Victor and Descend into the Garden. Then they all will be free.'

Adam was confused. The past week had been beyond crazy and well into the realm of surreal. His dreams were filled with flowers and towers and crying princesses in bowers. Every woman he saved was without a face though; a blank mask of black shadow erased whatever features they might have had, making them only a parody of their former selves. He shuddered. Such dreams bothered him on more than a purely instinctual level. They almost physically hurt. He wanted to do Juri justice. He wanted to save them.

Sari sat up. "No you don't," she said coldly, as if reading his mind. "Go away, Adam-sama. Go away!"

Adam blinked in confusion. "What is going ON here, Sari? Talk to me!"

Sari straddled him suddenly and Adam felt sick. He could feel her thighs against his own, her heat and weight and body pressing in very interesting ways against his anatomy. This was something he NEVER would have expected out of her, especially so out of the blue. What in the hell?!

"Go away," she whispered, tickling his ear with her hot breath, "or rot in hell here with me. Leave or stay in this prison of engagement. I can not explain it, I am not allowed. But RUN away from all this. Fair warning, Adam-sama. After this I take kid gloves off."

"Is it such a bad prison," he muttered, "that you would consider being engaged to me?"

She swept his arms wide, gazing out the window with wide blue eyes. "Look, out there, among the students. Chattel. Sheep. They work hard, live good clean lives, all so she could find you and bring you here to this beauty. Don't you ever desire something more? Don't you ever want something special that only you can touch, can see?"

Adam was confused. Did Sari mean Juri? Who was this 'she' that the girl seemed so frightened of? "But if I did that," he whispered, "it would be special only to me. And when I died…"

"Something not allowed here," she broke in. "You are a Victor, so long as you duel, you will never die here. We will Descend to the Garden and be rulers over this land for all eternity."

Adam smiled, a grim tired expression. He understood. Sari had gone insane and he had to humor her until he could get her to a nurse. "And when the revolution comes…"

"We'll glory in it, as they gloried in all revolutions before."

His eyes darkened. "Sari? You're scaring me, kid. Stop it! One moment I'm this normal college student hanging out with my best friend, the next I'm some 'Victor of the Duels' with a 'Rose Bride' who has to fight! What in the hell am I fighting FOR? Does anyone even know? I bumped into Jitsu-san tonight, you know? I tried getting straight answers out of him too, and I got jack shit. He said some guy with a pen urges them to battle in the arena for their fondest desires, that you send them up there with only swords and training for comfort. He doesn't know why he does it, does he? Do you?!"

She nodded. "They are people with strong desires, Adam-sama. I am the epitome of their need. It is there, simple as black and white. I deny them the right to duel without sanctification. Without the proper training they would hack one another to pieces and that would be a true waste of manpower and energy. All required to win a duel is bloodshed. A single drop hits the ground and the duel is over. The winner takes me, the loser goes home and mends their wounds. Simple. Elegant. You won me, Adam-sama. What is your desire?"

He snorted and tried to move her, but she was surprisingly strong. Her thighs pressed against his own and he stopped, embarrassed. If he moved any more Sari would know EXACTLY how much he cared for her."

"It's okay," she crooned, leaning forward, tracing his lips with her fingers. "Tell me what you want from me."

Adam shoved her off him. "You are all powerful now, Sari Himmemiya?" His English was broken, but still understandable. "Then give me back my mother! Give me back either of them! Either Juri or…or…"

Sari stopped her foul seduction and trembled. This wasn't as Utena had said it would go. The Victor was supposed to be ravishing her right about now.

"I can't," she murmured. "Not yet."

Yet? Adam wondered. Was such power within the realm of Sari's possibility now? From what he'd seen the other night he could almost believe it.

"Do you remember New York?" Sari whispered suddenly. "I do. It's safer here, nicer here. Granted things are very strange at first, but you forget about that soon enough. The streets are clean, there is no sickness or death or old age. We are eternal here. Can you say so much for your world?"

He shook her head. "No, I can't. But you have no meaning here, Sari. From what you're saying, from what I'm seeing, you're as much a slave as those students out there. Wake up."

She grew calm and cold. "I have no idea to what you're referring."

"You wouldn't." He turned on his side and looked out the high window at the sprawling grounds, the bright red roses, and the whiteness of the garden lilies as the sun rose. "When nothing changes, when nothing grows old or weakens or dies, you have no basis to say it's beautiful. It has no true value, because what was cannot be destroyed. The duelist aren't leading their lives, are they Sari? The don't lead lives, they're puppets, toys for your amusement and they DON'T KNOW IT."

She shook her head. "It's not like that, Adam-sama. It's not like that at all. You don't understand. They duel of their own free will. Everything we do depends on free will." Sari felt a slight shifting in the cold air and shuddered. Was that her imagination or was there a buzzing in the distance? The sound of metal sliding rapidly together, eager for her blood? Her chance had passed, soon the lethargy would overtake her again. The Tower in the distance seemed to beckon her. Now practically frantic to get out of this spooky dorm, she turned and slapped him, the last bit of defiance she had left.

"Get out, Adam," she whispered, before her eyes darkened and the world swam around her. A buzzing sounded from all corners of the world… she could feel Utena approach.

"Get out now."