In this part that was never supposed to be, where her brother and his world were just the things of the stories in her head, where there were Utena and a little apartment above a teashop and a neighboring greenhouse of plastic and tin to tend to and a bank account to put her wages in each month; in this part that felt like the afterword or even later than that, there were many things Anthy had never expected and wasn't familiar with, and many things that weren't easy to accept.
The hardest thing, she might've thought, would be allowing Utena such boundless power over her, such an incredible advantage. After all, loving is one thing, and sometimes quite manageable; but caring is much fuller a surrender.
She might've thought that, yes, and maybe she had, but the truth was that caring about Utena was the easiest, smoothest, most natural thing Anthy had ever done.
She cared about her in small and silly ways, and in big and cloying ones, and even in unconscious, spontaneous ones that compelled her to do such things as push Utena out of the way of a juicy lump of dog shit on the sidewalk. She cared enough to listen to little gripes about overly loud bosses and mosquito bites between the toes where you rarely get the chance to scratch. She cared enough to not mind caring.
And it wasn't hard. It was just a little bit wonderful, and a little bit terrifying.
.
There were the roses to worry about.
"They're not dying of metaphysical causes, Himemiya," Utena told her, slipping her hand into Anthy's. "You can't mean them back to health anymore."
Anthy had been grazing petals lightly with her fingertips and bowing her head contemplatively for the better part of an hour. She tried pesticides first, of course.
"I wonder," she murmured.
Utena laughed. It seemed to Anthy her laughter was coarsening with time. For some reason, that thought made her happy.
"Please don't," Utena said. "Your wondering always gives me a headache."
Anthy tugged the hand she was holding and pulled Utena into a slightly awkward twirl, on the tail end of which the beautiful coarse laughter made a reappearance. "It's fortunate I've recently discovered the existence of aspirin, then," she said.
"There was aspirin in Ohtori," Utena stated and laid a hand on Anthy's shoulder while Anthy wrapped an arm around her waist.
Anthy almost managed to avoid stepping on Utena's toes. Leading was still a struggle. "I don't really care about that."
Utena gallantly refrained from wincing. "I'm glad."
They danced silently, the scuff of Utena's shoes on the floor and the rustle of the folds of Anthy's skirt accentuating the lack of music in the greenhouse. In the teashop the old surround system was probably playing something classical at an unobtrusive volume, but that would be far too crass.
Fallen rose heads shriveled from disease bruised under Anthy's bare toes as she danced, her feet gathering dirt and scrapes and dancing experience. She thought that must be what control truly feels like.
.
There was Chu-Chu to worry about.
"Do you think he's still real?"
Chu-Chu was munching himself happily to oblivion, just as he had been continuously doing for the past several months. He had gotten very, very good at seven-card stud, and they always played for crackers.
They watched him finish up the last of the crumbs, cheeks puffed out and tail sticking straight up, curling perfectly at the end. Anthy tickled his swollen belly, and he made a sound that was just slightly too precise.
"No," she replied. "I don't particularly think that."
Later she found the entire pack of crackers he'd eaten, plastic wrapping still sealed, in the corner of the cupboard near the stove.
.
There were Utena's phantoms to worry about.
When she was hunched over like this, lips twisted in a grimace so askew it could be mistaken for a smile, forehead nearly kissing the floor, ten fingers digging painfully, deliberately into her abdomen, Anthy knew there was nothing to do but sit somewhere close by (but not too close) and do something insignificant, like knit or read or play a video game.
There was no point in noticing things like the convulsions of the muscles in Utena's back, or the low, horrible noise of her teeth grinding into each other, or the smell of fear and pain that clung to the air around her. There was no point in noticing those things at all, and Anthy certainly wouldn't if she could help it. But pointlessness was too often unavoidable.
Eventually Utena's shoulders would sag and her breath would stop being audible and the tears that stuck to the surface of her eyeballs like a shimmering shield would fall, and she would join Anthy on the couch; close, but not too close.
"I don't think the places in me where the swords had been ever really existed," Utena said quietly.
"I –" Anthy began and quickly cut herself off. She had a feeling Utena didn't want to hear what wise response she might have had.
Sensitivity was an odd thing.
"How much do you think we both remember?" Utena asked her, and maybe expected a reply this time. "I mean, how much do you think our memories match?"
It's just that, this time, it was Anthy who didn't quite want to hear the answer. "Would you like to find out?"
A drop of sweat trailed a salty path from Utena's hairline to the curve of her nostril. She sniffed. "I don't know."
Anthy looked at Utena's sweat-slicked face and still-trembling lips, and debated whether or not any contact would be welcome.
She decided it probably wouldn't.
"Never mind it, then."
She tossed her a joystick, and tried to imagine not imagining Utena's blood all over the floor.
.
There was Anthy's voiceless anger to worry about.
"Himemiya." Utena returned Anthy's impassive gaze with one of her own. It didn't look quite as silly on her as Anthy would've expected. "I won't apologize if you don't tell me to."
It was a habit born of necessity and conceit and vulnerability and spite, but more importantly, it was an old habit, and those weren't often known to die easily. Once, a long, long time ago, it had taken tremendous effort for Anthy to smile instead of snarl; now, it took tremendous effort not to.
Of course, it was an effort she wanted to make – only, remembering the things she wanted was a thing that took effort, too.
Anthy gritted her teeth and willed her heart not to race and the cold sweat not to soak into her dress or drip down her forehead.
"Apologize," she commanded.
Utena's smile was slow to form but entirely unapologetic. Relief and irritation alternately colored Anthy's mood as she watched it grow.
"Himemiya-sama," Utena said, her grin threatening to tear the skin of her cheeks, and bent down on one knee. "Please accept my apology."
Anthy's hand was only shaking a little when she placed it in Utena's to kiss.
"Next time," Anthy started, and stopped.
"Next time," Utena said instead, "I'm hoping for at least a glare."
.
There was tomorrow's breakfast to worry about.
Anthy rolled around and right into Utena's chest, her nose pressing into the underside of one of her breasts. She needed only twist her neck a little to kiss Utena's nipple good morning, and so she did.
Utena's fingers twitched against Anthy's back in response, sending a little shiver down her spine.
Anthy tried to stretch her legs and found her feet hanging over the edge of the bed. She leaned her head back to assess the situation. Utena was lying diagonally across the bed, her hair sprawled behind her like a majestic cape, holding Anthy and confining her to a small triangle of mattress.
Huh.
When they'd fallen asleep the night before, Anthy had had an arm slung across Utena's stomach and a leg on each side of the bed. Trust Utena to turn the tables and snuggle her into submission so that she can reclaim all the space for herself. She'd stolen the quilt, too.
Anthy played idly with Utena's nipple until the twitching turned to twisting and the soft snores turned to soft grumbles. Utena's eyes opened slowly and only halfway, but her lips were quick to form a customary morning grimace-smile. Anthy answered with a smile of her own and a vigorous shove, rolling Utena over and pushing her back several good inches.
Nevertheless, Anthy didn't resist when Utena pulled her closer, opting instead to lean further in.
Utena's mouth had the stale taste of sleep and the slowness of having just woken up, and the familiarity of its shape was so, so comforting.
By the time Anthy stopped kissing her and pulled back, Utena had lost all residual grumpiness. She propped herself up by her elbows, leaned her head on a fist, and licked her lips. Her breath was as thick as her kisses had been, and Anthy loved it just as much.
"I'm thinking pancakes," she said.
So that morning they had overdone pancakes with too much syrup and yesterday's mint tea. Neither of them had ever ended up learning to cook, really.