Initiation

The wind ripples lightly across the grass. It looks like an ocean, waves of green and gold stretching out to the horizon, tides of wheat being stirred by the breeze. It is the only thing to be seen, besides the stretch of indigo blue that is the sky.

'Where are we?'

The faintest whisper of a voice, lost under even the gentle whispers of the wind. It is answered by another, just as soft as the first, but lower, slightly more masculine.

'We are nowhere.'

'I remember…a place.'

'Yes'.

'But I don't remember anything else. I remember a place beyond this one. I remember that there is a place beyond this one. But…'

'Don't try.'

'Where are we?

'Doesn't the sun feel nice?'

'Yes…I remember the sun.'

'It is shining right now.'

'A different sun.'

'There are no different suns. There is only one.'

'Is there?'

Silence for a while. Then the voice speaks again.

'If there are different suns, then there are different places.'

'There are different places.'

'No. There is only here.'

'No, you're wrong. I remember…a different meadow. A garden. A house.'

'I remember what a house is. But I don't remember ever seeing one.'

'Where are we?'

'Here.'

'Where is here?'

'A meadow.'

'Where is the meadow?'

'The wind feels nice.'

It is quiet. Nothing is heard but the dry rustle of the ocean of grass, and the whistling of the wind as it moves through the stalks. The sky is a deep, deep blue, like a deep pool of water. It is the only thing unmoving. The higher voice speaks, this time with a note of triumph.

'Roses.'

'What?'

'I remember roses. The scent of roses on a summer's day. The sky was like this, then. It was so blue, so deep, I felt as though I could drown in it.'

'There are no flowers here.'

'Do you think we are dreaming?'

'Dreaming. The word is familiar…but…'

'It's what you do when you are asleep.'

'Do you know, until now, I didn't remember sleeping.'

'Where are we?'

'I do not think we are dreaming.'

'Then is this place real?'

'The fact that we aren't dreaming doesn't make this place real.'

'Who are you?'

'I am me.'

'What is your name?'

'I don't think I have one…no. I had a name.'

'You don't have to tell me now.'

'I think it had something to do with shadows.'

'I think there was an accident. I think something…bad…something…'

'What's wrong?'

'No, nothing. The sun feels nice, doesn't it?'

'You remembered something.'

'It was nothing.'

'Something you don't want to remember.'

'No.'

'I know you did. You're hiding from it.'

'Shut up.'

'You remembered something…something about a school, didn't you?'

'Shut up.'

'About roses. About something called…'

Shut up.'

'End of the world.'

'SHUT UP!'

The wind blows cold, propelling a cloud of dust and stalks of grass into the air. The sky seems to darken, seems to grow deeper. The feminine voice speaks again, angrily, the voice almost a hiss.

'How dare you try to talk to me about hiding, when you've been doing the same thing.'

'But I'm right, aren't I?'

"Yes…no, I don't want to see those memories. Lock them up, keep them away.'

'I remember the school…I remember a castle…'

'Floating in the sky…upside down.'

'And something about a revolution.'

'Yes.'

The voice wavers, and when it speaks again, it sounds frightened.

'Where are we?'

'I don't know.'

'It's warm here. It doesn't hurt here.'

'Did it hurt, where you were before?'

'I think so.' An intake of breath, slightly shaky. 'When I try to remember now…I remember…metal…razor edges…and then…'

'The breeze is getting warmer now.'

'Something with roses…'

'It's not that bad here.'

'Something I need to remember…'

'Memories are important.'

'What?'

'No, that's something I think I used to say. Something about keeping a memory…'

'Something about eternity.' A sigh. 'It's like trying to catch a minnow, isn't it?'

'Pardon?'

'You know it's there, but you can't get it, because it moves so fast.'

'Have you ever tried to catch a minnow?'

'I think so. I might not have ever seen a minnow before, for all I know.'

'But you know what it's like to catch one.'

'I didn't say it made sense.'

'I remember roses, too. Red roses dried and gone black. Roses made to live longer than they were meant.'

'No, that's wrong. If they were dried, then they weren't alive. They weren't living anymore.'

'Forced to go on, just existing, then. They couldn't change, or get any older, but remain the same, preserved forever, never-changing.'

'It's kind of chilly now, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'What do you think happened to us?'

'I don't know.'

'Do you think we're dead?'

'No.'

'I think I may have died. I remember being stabbed.'

'By a knife?'

'By a sword. No, by a thousand swords…but do you know, they didn't leave a mark on me.'

'It didn't hurt?'

'Oh, yes, it hurt. It felt like…can you imagine it? What it's like to be stabbed a *thousand* times? You think there isn't enough room on your body to be run through on, that it can't keep going on. One runs through your stomach, one straight through your skull, and you wonder how you can still think…'

'Stop it.'

'But they weren't real. Not real like the house was. They were real…real like this meadow is real…'

The wind begins to die down, growing fainter, only stirring the very tips of the grassy field as the voice continues.

' I remember more now…I can just feel it, out of reach…it's so important, and I can't quite remember it.'

'Rings, seals with roses on them, black and white. I remember that now.'

'The rose crest, I know…but something down…'

'Deeper?'

'Yes…'

'Hah, I just remembered my name. No, I remembered…both of my names.'

'You have two names?'

'…Yes.'

'Well?'

'I think…I'll go by Mikage, right now.'

'Mi…kage.'

'Does it sound familiar?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

'I still can't quite…remember.'

'Remember what?'

'A friend. Someone very important to me. I made a promise to her.'

'Try to think of her name.'

'It's slipping.'

'Grab it.'

'Himemiya.'

'What?'

'I remember now…I remember everything.' This voice was also relieved, a bit joyful, and a bit sad as well. 'I was so wrong, about everything. I couldn't be her prince…but I could be her friend. She…is alright now.'

'Do you know this?'

'I can feel it.'

'Where are we?'

'Not where we want to be. But the way out of this place is easy.'

'I…don't…'

'I remember you now, Mikage. You were right, you know. We were a lot alike. Well, background-wise, anyway. We just went about things much differently.'

No reply comes. The wind builds, ruffling the grass.

'You spoke about memories before. Which is the one that binds you to this place?'

'What do you mean?'

'This is a mid-way point, Mikage. A trial. A kind of limbo. Where you go to before you pass into the real world.'

'What do you mean?'

'Before you leave, you have to let go, Mikage. You have to leave your coffin.'

'The meadow is so peaceful. It's so quiet.'

'It's not real.'

'If I leave…will I remember anything? Will I forget again?'

'I think it depends if you want to remember.'

'Will you be there?'

'Perhaps.'

'May I ask you something?'

'Yes?'

'What is your name?'

'What?'

'I am absolutely serious.'

'You don't remember my name?'

'I remember who you are and what you were. I can't quite remember your name.'

'Utena.'

'Utena.'

The sky over the meadow grows lighter, and the wind stops completely. Two figures materialize, slowly. They are smiling. And then, in a fraction of an instant, in the time it takes to blink, they are gone.

~

'Initiation is sometimes viewed as the process of growth from childhood to adulthood and

the rituals that accompany or symbolize such changes…Archetypal forms of initiation that

recur in mythology include death and rebirth…and other forms of transition from one

plane (state) to another.'

-The Magician's Reflection, Bill Whitcomb

Well, I always did wonder about what happened once you 'graduated' Ohtori. Don't we all? This is one

possible explanation. And yes, I am an Utena/Mikage fan. So sue me. No, don't! Forget I said that.

Anyway, nothing in Shojo Kakumei Utena belongs to me. None of it. At all. So don't sue me, thank you.