Pink and Silver
Act 1

"Here you go," the blue-haired barmaid handed a gin and a rich margarita to the customer. Wiping her hands on her tight black miniskirt, she flashed the drunk man sitting at the counter she was serving a pretty but emotionless smile. The slumped man stared at her rosy red lips and her deep blue eyes. After surveying her slender body, he leaned closed to her and whispered, "What's your name?" Disgusted by the reek of alcohol that surrounded him, she wrinkled her nose and leaned back.

"Kaoru Kozue," she answered while wiping a glass, "What's it to you?" The man smiled and gave her a yellow grin, "Found you, little chicken." Little chicken? What the hell kind of pet name was that?

"What in the world are you talking about?" Kozue asked uneasily, clenching the beer glass tight in her hand in case she needed a weapon to knock this drunk out with. "What do you mean, 'found me'? I don't know you and you don't know me." As the man plunked down his glass of gin, he pulled Kozue close to him, and hissed, "You're having a visitor. Be prepared..." And then he tried to kiss Kozue. Enraged, the barmaid smacked the glass hard on his head. Seeing a second too late what Kozue was doing, the drunk, sluggish by now, tried to dodge. Unfortunately for him, but luckily for Kozue, it crashed down nice and solid on his muggy head. A trickle of blood started to flow out of a gash, and Kozue bit her lip. Damn, she thought, now I'm in for it. Better get going on the streets. Again.

As she tried to slip out of the crowded bar, a silence fell over the customers, barmaids, and bartenders alike. Kozue whirled around from her thieving of the drunk's wallet (after all, if she was taking out on the streets, she DID need a few bucks) and what she saw changed her life.

She dropped the leather wallet she was holding in her hand and ran towards the familiar visitor standing in the doorway. Just then, she was blocked by a girl her age. The girl, whose face was a mask of pure fury and something else, snapped, "Don't go near him, Kozue. Don't you dare."

Surprised, Kozue dropped her jaw, and recognized one of her old rivals in the competition for a certain male. "Nanami?"

* * * * *

After much ooing and aahing, Wakaba stood with Tetsuya and the two of them gazed at the oldest work of the former Ohtori Student Council member. Sighing, Wakaba leaned on Tetsuya and said, "Who would have imagined that the coldest member of the Student Council would paint a picture like this? Wow, it's so pretty..."

Tetsuya agreed, "Yeah, Arisugawa-san was always a stoic figure. Imagine her painting an emotional work like this..."

"Yeah..." Wakaba responded in turn. However, something about the painting sparked a memory in Wakaba's mind. She just couldn't place her finger on it. The face on it looked vaguely familiar. But the eyes... they were so full of nobility and showed so much eternity, yet still looked sad, as if the owner of them was trapped in the wheel of time...

"Ugh, what a weird painting. And by Arisugawa-san, too!" A new voice came from the back of the room. "Do you know what that is, Saionji-sempai?" After hearing the last word, Wakaba widened her already large brown eyes and turned around quickly.

She saw an attractive, petite figure staring up raptly at Saionji with capricious purple eyes. Wakaba wondered how, after all of Saionji's beatings, that poor, tiny little girl could still be living and breathing. The girl didn't look as if she could last a slap. But, a furious emotional chord of envy struck in Wakaba's heart. She may be engaged to her dear Onion Prince, but she still loved her darling (and at times brutal) Saionji. The last time she had seen him was three years ago, when she was eighteen, at her Ohtori graduation. Narrowing her eyes sharply, Wakaba stared after the girl. Tetsuya raised his eyebrows.

"Yuriko, can't you see?" Saionji's familiar sharp, brisk tone sliced through the air. "The painting may look like a sloppy white rose, where it looks as if the outline is scrawled, but if you look carefully, you can see the face of a girl in these petals. Doesn't her face look noble? And so full of eternity and life?"

"Yeah, but she's not smiling. How can you say that's full of life?" Yuriko interrupted impatiently. "Her eyes make her look like she's confined, or trapped. I don't think she looks full of eternal life; full of eternal sadness would be more like it. Some art collector you are! You can't even tell the expression on someone's face!" Wakaba took her breath in sharply. This girl was now in for it. She immediately whirled around and grabbed Tetsuya's coat sleeve. "Come on, let's go visit the next room." Dragging a confused Tetsuya along with her, she left Yuriko to her fate.

But, Wakaba predicted wrong. Saionji clenched his fists tightly after hearing Yuriko speak, but he didn't slap her. He had just visited a clinic where people who had temper problems were treated. Suddenly, he remembered something. Perhaps the treatment he had just gone through wiped out his brain for a few seconds, too. After much fumbling through his olive green trench coat, he found what he was looking for: a business card that read the name "Shinohara Wakaba, physical therapist." Leaving Yuriko bewildered where she stood, he leaped after Wakaba's quickly retreating form. He just prayed that he would be able to catch her.

* * * * *

Clinking down her glass of champagne, Arisugawa Juri looked over at Miki. He, too, was alone, as if waiting for someone. His shining thing, no doubt, she thought. She had given up hope on her love long ago. This desolation had been the unfolding bud for all of her now-famous paintings, all save the first one she ever did. Now she had completely forgotten about it. She could hardly even remember whom it was that she painted. All she knew was that she was gone. Her thoughts diverted to something else. Why had to she come to this stupid Board of Fine Arts Social, anyway? As far as she knew, it was worthless. Sure, she was beautiful, but would anyone make advances towards her? To them, she was too cold, too aloof, and too "creepy". She heard a loud noise behind her, and whirled around.

" Arisugawa-san, you seem to be alone. Care to join me for a dance?" The master of the hall that this social was taking place offered his hand to Juri. He tried to saunter inconspicuously towards her, but to no avail. Juri clearly saw through his moves and coldly tilted her chin towards him.

"Takada-san, I clearly do not wish to dance with you. I am comfortable where I am standing. Besides, you seem to have a horde of ladies trailing after you like second shadows. I strongly recommend you to choose one of them, so as to not break their poor little hearts." She replied to the man's request mirthlessly. "So do leave." No one else would have dared speak to Takada-sama this way, for fear of being sued or some other unfortunate event. Juri was different, she knew it, and let others know it. Like a panther, she was fierce, yet beautiful.

"Oh, hello, Arisugawa-san. What a pleasant surprise to see you here as well." A mild voice chimed in Juri's thoughts. Knowing that she recognized the voice somewhere, but not knowing from where, she looked off to her left.

Kanae? She thought with shock.

If she was here, then where was her husband, the dastardly dean of Ohtori?

"Why, hello, Kanae-san." She greeted the woman with the luminous pale yellow hair. Hmm, she has incredibly good fashion sense, she thought. She was wearing a long chartreuse ball gown that had a huge train that complimented her hair perfectly. It was unadorned, but light embroideries of roses a shade lighter than chartreuse bloomed down the bodice.

"Arisugawa-san, the famed artist. I've been looking for you. When I received the invitation to attend the Social, I knew that it was the ideal occasion for a famous artist and a renowned fashion designer to meet." Kanae smiled brightly. Realization dawned upon Juri as to why Kanae was here: she was a fashion designer! Of course! No wonder she had such good fashion sense. You didn't see fashion designers prancing around wearing electric orange and olive green, did you?

"Why were you looking for me?" Juri inquired cautiously. "What is there to tell me? As far as I know, the Prince is no longer here... there does not seem to be a World Revolution! We are all grown. The past is behind us now."

Kanae shook her head quickly, closing her eyes in the process, as if Juri's words cut through her. "That is why I am looking for you. And the other members of the former Ohtori Student Council, as well." Confused, Juri narrowed her eyes. Did Kanae even know what she herself was talking about? Sighing in exasperation, she tried not to sound pushy. "What are you talking about? Are you saying that we must find Utena?"

Looking amused now, Kanae beckoned Juri towards her into a dark corner. Smiling knowingly and with grim satisfaction, she pulled Juri closer and started to speak in hushed tones.

Five minutes later, Juri had a serious, grim look on her face and was deep into conversation with Kanae.

* * * * *

She looked around her apprehensively. Was there no one to turn to? Wincing in pain as blood dripped endlessly from countless cuts in her body, she tried to ask for help. Futile. Her throat was already so parched that all she could manage was a croak that sounded not much better than a frog's. Near to the point of sobbing, she cradled her stomach, which was the worst off. No, she thought, to be a Prince I must be strong.

"Oh! All you all right, miss?" A sweet voice asked from behind the injured girl. "I should find help for you. Stay right here!" The girl turned around just in time to see an elfin nine-year-old child run off for help. Her senses becoming more aware now, she looked all around her to remember the place in case she happened to get lost. She was standing on a deserted cobbled path inlaid with rose-tinted and marble stones. Cottages and stores rose gracefully all around her. The sky was still the purplish-yellow-pink cast of dawn. It was odd to see someone out at this time. Luckily, this sweet little girl was still out. The wounded young woman had time to praise her good fortune and to bless the little girl before she passed out.

When the little girl returned with a still sleepy but apprehensive adult, the young woman with the pink hair was already dead.

~ End of Act 1~

Solitary_rose: Hey, so what did you all think of this so far? As you know, the characters (except for the little girl and a few minor ones) in "Noble Roses, Bloody Roses" are NOT owned by me (so you can't put me in jail for attempting to copy original characters, ha!!!), but by Chiho Saitou and probably also Kunihiko Ikuhara. This fic is owned by me, though, and copyrighted, too!! (c) 2001 by Solitary_rose - I'd rather not give out my real name. A person's gotta have privacy, you know! Anyway, I hope that you guys like it. As I mentioned with my other fics, R/R/E! (you know, E=enjoy)