Contains canon-typical references to abuse and suicide.


A dress.

With every step she and Utena take, Anthy expects the knot on her shoulders to come undone. With every sway, she fears the material will slip down her back. Utena holds her hand like a lock, and Anthy thinks about how gifts from others are not to be trusted. Utena guides her through the dance, and Anthy remembers who else has given her dresses and made decisions for her.

Their dance finishes and people turn away from them. Utena whispers, "You look tired, let's go home".

Anthy never wears or even touches the tablecloth dress again. Forgotten, it gathers dust.


A handkerchief.

Utena doesn't ask Anthy to return it. She doesn't bring it up at all.

She has won the duel, and she and Anthy have settled back into their routine. Gradually, 'mine' and 'yours' lose their meaning. Engaged people share everything in their lives. Even things they don't want to.

Utena acts like herself again.

A week later, Utena spills tea over the table (their table). The handkerchief she had given Anthy is the first thing she finds to clean up. "Can I borrow that?" she asks, apologetic. "I'll wash it tomorrow."

Anthy nods. "Yes. What's mine is yours, Miss Utena."


An ear.

Utena says that she wants Anthy to be a friend who shares everything. That she wants them to be friends without secrets.

The space between their beds is small. They have pushed them together as close as they can be. Utena can easily reach over and hold Anthy's hand whenever she wishes to.

Anthy smothers wishful thoughts inside her. There are other spaces between them. Wider spaces, chasms. Utena may be able to extend an arm, but not to build a bridge.

Utena wants Anthy to be a honest friend. Anthy doesn't know what Utena imagines she could tell her.


A promise.

Anthy finds Utena's discarded jacket later. There are cookie crumbs over it.

The covers on Utena's bed are neat, unused.

"Ten years" might sound like a long time to Utena. It's almost as long as she has lived up to this point. To Anthy, the words don't hold any meaning. She has seen centuries blink by, and she has felt minutes drag into eternity.

Their room feels cold.

She hopes that Utena won't remember her in ten years. Everyone might forget she and her brother ever existed, but that doesn't matter. As long as Utena gets to leave this place.


Encouragement.

The gates of Ohtori close with a clang. The noise is quite unlike the bells she has heard so many times.

She has packed lightly. She has not owned much for centuries now, whatever little possessions she had always drifting away between one duelist and another. No matter. She has all she needs, and if she needs more, she can buy it.

The pavement feels warmer here than on the school courtyard. The sound of her is unfamiliar, but soft, and nice when she gets used to it.

Anthy has a goal, but not a destination, and she is happy.