Morning dawned over China.
Fog was rising from thousands of small ponds and turned the valley into an ancient oriental picture. Old Chinese man descending to the valley from a pass looked like a part of that picture – moustache, and robe, and staff and stuff… A young man by his side didn't match the surroundings as he was definitely not Chinese, rather some vague Mediterranean, and a basket he hugged carefully was definitely of European style.
"This is the famous Valley of Cursed Springs, Jusenkyo", the old man said solemnly and sneezed.
"Thank you very much for guiding me he- chooo! –re! Vielen Dank! And can you tell me now which is the Spring of Drowned Girl?"
The old man scratched his nape.
"Oh, a drowned girl… A maiden drowned there long before I was born. All other poor animals too. Our family passes the names of all springs from father to son over centuries, and let me tell you, not all those fathers were sane or sober."
The young man frowned as if bit a lemon. So many efforts, such a far way…
"Are those legends true at all?"
"Yes, they are! I've seen it! A martial arts master and his son came here for training a couple of years ago. I guided them here too. And they both fell into water. The master turned into a panda, and his son became a pretty girl."
And the old man giggled and stroked some invisible curvy forms in the air. His companion didn't seem to share his fun, though.
"But which pond it was?!" He clenched fists as if to beat the answer out of the old fart. "I mean, the one with the girl!"
The Chinese chewed on his moustache continuing to pat imaginary curvatures.
"Let me see. One, two… Third to the right and fifth away from the road. Yes. That's it."
"Thank you very much!" The westerner even smiled. "Third to the right, fifth away from this road, right?"
"Yes. Maybe… Or it was the southern road, not this one… I'm an old tired ruin, please have mercy!" he added seeing murder in the foreigner's eyes. "Or maybe eastern road, I don't remember, I'm just a tired blind lame deaf poor old man. And now I must return, or my wife will scold and beat me." And with a vigour surprising for his years he scuttled up slope.
"Please wait!" the young man put down the basket and ran a couple of steps after the Chinese. "Tell me at least how many roads lead to this valley!"
"Five! Or four… I'm just an old tired.."
"Scheisse!" The young man spat when his guide disappeared from sight. "Alright, I still can walk around and find all roads. After all, now I have to check just four or five ponds, instead of hundreds. Just how? I can't risk her life. Should I use myself as a test object? The old crock said a victim will return to normal by contacting hot water… Crap!" He smashed himself on the cheek, then shook his hand. A dead mosquito fell down.
His gaze followed the poor critter… Then he gasped. Yes, that was it!
He listened carefully but did not hear a peculiar squeak. Wind in grass, whispers of tiny pond waves, some early birds, but no other mosquitoes! He added a long quirky curse to the morning symphony. What attracts these damned beasts? Blood? Smell? Sweat? Okay.
The young man plopped down into dewy grass and started doing push-ups. One, two, three.. At third dozen he heard the desired shrill sound and soon held a half-stifled mosquito by the wings.
The ponds were separated by narrow dams, but the foreigner walked over with almost ballet grace. At the destination pond he squatted and flipped the insect into water.
A gust of vapour rose, thinned out and revealed a fantastic picture: a tiny girl not larger than a thumb, dabbling and crying for help. With the most content smile he plucked a hair out of his ponytail and used it as a rope to rescue the damsel in distress.
"What's going on?" she squeaked in equally tiny voice. "What happened to me? Why can't I fly anymore?"
"Sorry about that" the young man was trying hard to look concerned. "I promise I'll write a story about you with a happy end. Something in line with Thumbelina fairytale. Don't worry, it's better to be a human than an insect."
He stood up holding a test victim in hand and turned to the solid ground.
"Besides, you interrupted my breakfast," she whined annoyingly. "and I'm still hungry!"
"Well," the guy muttered, "I have some bread, it will be more than enough for you."
"Bread?! Holy mistletoe! I want blood!" and she bit him by the finger.
Human teeth are not intended to pierce skin, so it did not hurt, but he was taken aback and shook his hand by reflex, and the little offender landed into another pond. This time the young man decided not to fish her out - a strange black-and-white creature she turned into seemed to swim quite well. So he jumped back to the shore where his basket stood.
What did the old crock say? A boy turned into a girl, and his father turned into a panda? And what is a panda? The young man wished he knew more of zoology, but well, he found the girl spring, didn't he?
Meanwhile, a cloth over basket was drawn aside, and a cute duck peeped out with uncomprehending look.
"Good morning, Ahiru!" he smiled at the bird a bit slyly. "You're awake!"
"Quack? quack-quack-quack…" the duck mumbled looking around.
"Er… it's a good place for you to swim, I thought. In some springs, water is good for health. So sit quietly, I'll take you to the right pond."
And he took a flapping duck out of the basket and went again carefully into the spring field, accompanied by a string of startled quacks. At the place, he dropped the bird into water.
A steam cloud muffled quacks for a second, then –
"Why why why? There's plenty of lakes at home, and mineral water springs too! Why did you drag me so far? More than a month of travel! All those slant-eyed people around were looking at me strangely and saying I'll be a splendid Peking duck. I don't know what is it and don't want to know! But I started thinking that you fed me so good and much on purpose to make me fat and tasty… A? A?"
A red-haired girl stopped rumbling and stared at the young man. He was looking aside, blushing furiously and holding out a folded dress. She glanced down – and squatted with a squeak. The situation seemed very familiar.
"Oh, Fakir! You did it! You wrote it! But why didn't you tell me?!"
"Didn't want to jinx it. I wasn't sure it would work. And… and I didn't write it. I thought – why was I so fixed on writing it myself when there may be other methods. So I found a story about this valley. And now shut up and put the clothes on. My neck is numb already."
Ahiru pffed and snatched the dress. "Are you ready?" Fakir asked after some rustle, sighs and ouchs.
"Yes but don't you look!"
"Why?"
"You see… no, don't look! I've… You took a dress for the class I was in, right? And it seems I've grown a bit."
"So what?" He tried to turn to her but met a mighty screech and barely dodged a splatter of water.
"Alright, I don't look, just don't splash it, moron," he sighed. "I still need to pick you out and lead you carefully to the shore, or the klutz like you will certainly fall into another pond and turn into something weird."
"Then, maybe, you lend me a hand without looking, and I'll hold to your back?"
"Something like that."
Looking carefully to the side he stretched out his hand, felt a wet cool palm, grabbed it and pulled. Well, he remembered perfectly like he had drawn her out of Drosselmeyer's subspace, danced with Ahiru in Dornroschen or in the Lake of Despair, and now he put the same effort into the pull.
But now the body he tried to lift turned out heavier, and she pulled on him too! And his foot slipped in the narrow wet dam at last.
"Scheiss-" splash! "-ssssse!"
Ahiru fought to scramble from under Fakir and get some air, Fakir tried to get off her and get his hands off some very soft parts of her. After some ruckus they sat in water (for it was barely knee-deep) and looked at each other with wide eyes. Ahiru did seem a couple of years older and a couple of sizes curvier.
"Oh, that's how it works," she chirped at last and giggled. Fakir followed her glance and blushed fiercely and instantly. Definitely what his wet shirt was sticking to wasn't D or even C size but still it was more than he'd want.
"Teufelscheiss!" was all he could utter for the moment.
"I guess it does not matter now," Ahiru said at last, stood up and held her hand out to the other obviously girl.
The former boy reddened even deeper than humanly possible and tried to drown – the dress he brought for Ahiru was really a couple of sizes smaller than necessary. A school uniform dress was not intended to be maxi or even midi, but now it was barely covering the absence of panties. (Fakir decided not to bother with such trifles and to let her buy that important article by herself later. And frankly speaking, he felt too embarrassed to be seen anywhere near female underwear.) Upper curves strained too narrow top, and the seams tightened dangerously. To make it worse, the dress was dripping wet and clung quite tight. But her smile was brilliant, soft and full of light, just as in his memories of Princess Tutu. So he decided to look only at that smile.
"Hey, since now we're in the same washroom it's OK. Let's get to the dry ground, or we may catch a cold."
Fakir stood up. The redhead's sight was embarrassing, but looking down didn't help either. Still he took her hand, and they went to the shore swaying and staggering – out of natural clumsiness or not being used to different center of gravity, respectively.
Once on the solid ground, Ahiru hugged him and murmured, "Thank you, Fakir, thank you very much! You did it even at such a price-"
But he made his trademark haughty sound, shoved her aside and hurried to the basket. There he took a thermos out, unscrewed it and poured its content on his hand. A puff – and his silhouette was back to normal.
A surprised quack came from behind. He swirled back in alarm – but she was still a girl, wide-eyed, slowly blushing and going into squat again.
"Yeah, it's reversible," he grumbled and threw her a plaid from basket. "Just pour some hot water. Well, you need not to, or you'd be a duck again. In that case, use cold water to return to girl form. Just like it was in Drosselmeyer's story. And due to your klutz talent I'll have to beware of rains and forget about swimming in a lake or river summer."
"Sorry," Ahiru muttered and went to pat him on the shoulder but stopped in the middle of movement. "Wa- wait a minute. What?!" her voice rose in indignation. "Do you mean you feel ashamed to be a girl? That being a girl sucks? That boys are better than girls?!"
"N-no, you've got it wrong!" he protested vividly. "I meant only that it's better to keep to our true selves... No, I don't mean you're a better duck than human girl, I-, I mean even as a duck you were a girl duck, right?.. Oh scheisse!" he smashed himself on the head.
"What?" she switched from anger to concern really fast.
"I forgot to buy a second ticket for return. On the way here, I needed just one ticked because you passed for a hand baggage."
"And he calls me a moron," she sighed wrapping the plaid tighter around her. "Don't worry, we will think something up. And now it is better to get to railway station and have some hot tea. Or we may catch a cold." She smiled again. "And I don't want to start a new story with worries about you."