Two Archetypes in Search of a Story

A Revolutionary Girl Utena/Princess Tutu crossover

By aishuu and ekaterinn

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Fakir woke up and swung out of bed. Without really thinking about it, he begun his series of morning stretches. The day of a ballet student was a long one and it was important to start it off limber. He had never really liked mornings, but he had been getting up early for so long that had became a habit. And he had slept well last night: no troubling dreams, no waking up at the slightest noise.

Fakir finished stretching, shook his body out and went to prepare breakfast. Last night's fears and suspicions seemed a lot more manageable in the morning light.

He heard the sound of footsteps, too heavy to be anything but human, and turned to see Utena standing in the doorway. She was dressed in one of his old shirts, which came to the middle of her thighs. He was reminded of Mytho's habit of sleeping in similar clothes, the whiteness enhancing fair skin. She was pretty, he thought with surprise. He hadn't realized that the night before.

She was too tired to notice him ogling her, which was a blessing. Instead, she tripped her way to the table, sleep blurring her eyes. One piece of her hair was practically standing on-end from having been slept on wrong. It looked cute.

"Good morning," he said, crossing over to the kitchen counter and checking the breadbox for when Ahiru woke up.

"Morning," she mumbled back. She yawned loudly, cracking her jaw before dropping her face in her hands and leaning forward on the table.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked. It would be easy enough to make two of whatever she wanted; he wasn't a picky eater, having spent much of his childhood trying to find food that would get a reaction out of Mytho.

"Coffee. Please."

"Just coffee?"

She grunted, and he decided that making pancakes wouldn't hurt, since he wasn't about to skip breakfast. Apparently Utena was one of those people that didn't function without an infusion of caffeine. Hopefully the smell of food would perk her interest; aside from the tea, she hadn't had anything to eat in over 12 hours.

He carefully measured out a couple scoops of coffee beans into the machine, filled it with water, and hit brew. Then he dug out a packet of pancake mix, smiling as Ahiru fluttered onto the nearby counter top. He'd given up eating eggs since coming to know her; it would have approached cannibalism.

Ahiru pecked the pancake mix and looked up at him hopefully. "If you're good, I'll save some for you," he teased. She quacked back at him, communicating her feelings about people who would even think of withholding pancakes. "Okay, okay, pancakes for you, too."

Soon the sounds of coffee gurgling and pancakes sizzling filled his kitchen. He flipped the pancakes easily and quickly had a small stack piling up on the plate. He snared two for himself and one for Ahiru, bringing the rest to the table. The coffee had gotten to the occasional drips stage, so he poured two cups of that as well. Placing one of them in front of Utena, he watched as she fumbled for something resembling a death-grip on the mug. She drank about half of it before he even sat down, and sighed blissfully.

"Where's your girlfriend?" she asked. "A man who makes coffee like that has to have a girlfriend."

He glanced at Ahiru nervously. She was merely his friend now, but once she had been the girl he loved. The idea of finding someone else was abhorrent, but he knew that he probably would someday. He wondered if Utena was hitting on him; she hadn't seemed the type. Checking her face, he decided she was issuing a strange sort of complement.

"No girlfriend," he said, before patting Ahiru reassuringly. He wouldn't leave her; he had given his word.

"What a waste." She sipped again, her eyes brightening with alertness. "Are you going to school?" she asked, nodding to his white and blue uniform.

Fakir nodded. "I'm a ballet student at Kinkan Academy. It's in the middle of town." He gestured in the vague direction of the school.

"A dancer, huh?" Utena said. "I - one of the images in my mixed-up head is of someone in white, dancing in a ballroom," she added, tapping on her head with her hand. "It probably wasn't ballet though."

Fakir was beginning to like talking to Utena. It was very easy to fall into a rhythm with her - maybe too easy, he thought, remembering his suspicions last night. His eyes fall on Ahiru, resolutely munching on her pancake. He had her, and Aotoa if he really wanted someone to talk to. Utena was just passing though.

"Let me see your foot," he said.

She looked at him quizzically, before standing and coming around so she was in it. She held her foot up, and he studied it, ignoring the way the shirt rose against her thigh.

"Definitely not a ballerina," he declared. Her legs were well-muscled, so she was probably an athlete, but the toes didn't have the heavy calluses or broken toenails that marked ballet dancers. She was a little too sturdy, he thought, as he looked at her. "Probably into some sports," he conceded.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I wonder what, though?" she asked, before ruffling her hair in agitation. "This is so frustrating!"

Ahiru quacked sympathetically, then mimed swimming around in the lake. Fakir laughed and translated: "Ahiru thinks that you swam."

Utena looked at the duck and smiled. "It's a thought, Ahiru-chan." Ahiru hopped up and down on the table, looking very pleased with herself.

Fakir pushed the remaining pancakes towards her. "Here, eat. It'll take your mind off it."

"Oh, that smells good. Thanks."

For a short while, the kitchen was filled with sounds of people -and one duck - eating. Then Utena asked, swallowing her last piece of pancake, "Do you suppose I could come into town with you? I could look around school grounds, see if anything else sparks a memory. After all, I wore that uniform when I first found myself outside, so I probably was a student."

He couldn't see the harm in it, although he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the idea of her wandering around unsupervised. His instincts warned him it was a bad idea, but there was no excuse not to fulfill her reasonable request.

"I suppose, but I don't have anything for you to wear. I mean, I don't keep girl's clothes around here or anything." He did have Ahiru's old uniform tucked away, but he could see Utena was far too large for it. Even if it would have fit, he didn't think he could bear to offer it, although Ahiru would have welcomed sharing.

"Boy's clothes are fine," she replied. "If you can loan me a pair of pants, I can just tuck this shirt in."

Mytho's old clothing would fit her, he thought. "I have a spare uniform you can borrow."

"That would be awesome." She picked up her coffee cup and drained it. "You're very kind."

They walked down the road together, Ahiru waddling alongside. Mytho's old uniform fit her well, thought Fakir. It accentuated her hips and made her legs look even longer. Though it was a bit tight across the chest.

"Have you studied ballet long?" she asked him.

"Since I was little," he replied. "I've always loved it."

"It's funny, but when I first saw your house, I thought you were a writer. All those papers lying around..."

"It's just hobby. Ballet is my passion," he told her. Best to keep to simple truths. He wanted nothing to disturb his world... anymore that it had already been.

"I think we can have more than one passion," she said. "I... think I like to do a lot of things." Less surety in her voice this time.

"You'll remember," he said. Ahiru nodded in agreement, and Fakir smiled down at the little duck. There was a pool close to school she spent most of her day at, waiting for him to complete classes. They always had lunch together.

"I hope so," Utena said, biting her lip. Then she shook her head, and a smile decorated her face. "Any ideas where I should start?"

"The library. There's a guy named Aotoa there, and if he doesn't have a clue, no one will."

"Okay, that sounds like a plan." She sounded a bit more cheerful.

"It's good to have goals." My goal is to get though the day without anything else strange happening, he thought wryly. "I'll take you by the library once we get to the Academy. It's on the way to my morning class."

She nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

They were coming up on the main part of town now. Ahiru moved closer to him. Fakir knew she was worried about being stepped on by other students heading to class. He bent down and held out his hands. She hoped nimbly onto them and settled on the crook of his arm as he held her close to his chest.

"Is the view better up there?" Utena asked her. She got a happy quack in response.

The feeling of almost-strangeness that had been assaulting him crystallized. He had been pleased Utena had been so polite to Ahiru, but it was odd. Most people wouldn't treat a duck like a thinking creature.

"You're very kind to her," he said softly.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Utena asked in confusion. "A friend..." her brow furrowed as she tried to sort out her thoughts, "I've always liked animals. Sometimes they appear smarter than we are."

"They probably are," he said. As if on cue, a cat wandered by, turning a curious head toward them.

Fakir nodded acknowledgment to Neko-sensei. It was strange, seeing an animal who'd formerly been his teacher, staring up at him with blank eyes. Ahiru had retained her intelligence and memories, but the others that had been caught up in the story hadn't been as lucky.

They had reached the entrance to the school grounds. Kinkan Academy was laid out before them, its long boulevard sloping down toward the courtyard. Fakir glanced over at Utena, dressed in Mytho's uniform. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the school.

Fakir was reminded of the first time he and Mytho had walked to school. He smiled. He'd been so excited, pulling Mytho along with him. When Mytho had hesitated at the entrance, he had said, "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

"Don't worry; if you need anything, I'll help," he offered. She was not Mytho, but she was evoking the same feelings his prince had commanded.

"It's so pretty, so much like..." she paused as she searched her scrambled memories. "I think I went to a school like this." Her hand touched the gate, running slender fingers along the stone.

"Your uniform was certainly of high quality." He had noticed that; he had always been a detailed-oriented person. It wasn't a traditional uniform, but the design and cut had been expensive. He wished he had been able to tell what school it came from.

"Which way is the library?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Toward your right. Aotoa doesn't have classes until this afternoon, so you should be able to find him easily. Look for a guy wearing glasses and a smug expression."

She laughed. "Smug. Glasses. Got it." He watched she strode off towards the library. She had such confidence for someone lost in the world, without even her memories to guide her. He couldn't help but admire it.

"What do you think of her, Ahiru?" he asked rhetorically, looking down at the duck.

She's nice! But a bit mysterious...

Fakir frowned. That voice had sounded just like Ahiru had, when she was girl. But Ahiru was still quacking happily away in his arms. He sighed. It was only wishful thinking.

Practice was challenging; it always was. Since Mytho had left, Fakir had become the uncontested male star of the school. He hadn't found a partner yet, not one he wanted to stay with, so he had gotten used to the rotating faces of breathless young girls who wanted to make him theirs.

His teacher, Bruhn-sensei, always pushed him the hardest. Fakir wasn't a particularly graceful dancer, relying on his power and energy to carry a performance. He was good, very good, but he had yet to reach perfection.

The girl he was dancing with today was his age, and one of his more frequent partners. She was ambitious, but they lacked chemistry together.

He could feel the power in how they danced, pushing each other to new technical, if not emotional, heights. As always, it felt good to get things right, to turn with a precise amount of speed, to lift his partner just so.

But Fakir couldn't help comparing it with the dance he shared with Ahiru. The passion they had shared, underwater. It was a lifetime ago, and he had sworn to keep it that way. But he couldn't seem to keep from returning to the memory. Not today.

Bruhn-sensei noticed his distraction, watching with narrowed, disapproving eyes. As soon as the music came to a close, he was in Fakir's face, invading Fakir's personal space without hesitation.

"And what was that, Fakir-kun?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild. There were times he reminded Fakir of Neko-sensei, but today was not one of those days.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"A dancer cannot afford to devote anything less than his complete concentration on what they're doing. I see potential in you, but your head is off in the clouds." He waved a dismissing hand at the girl who had been Fakir's partner. "You're going to practice this piece until I'm satisfied."

"Yes, sir," Fakir agreed quietly. Inwardly, he groaned. This would make him late for lunch with Ahiru. And what of Utena, wandering around with only Aotoa to guide her?

Of course, this wasn't the first time that had happened. Bruhn-sensei had called him on his lack of focus before. To be truthful, Fakir was finding it hard to concentrate on school nowadays. Ballet still held the allure it had when he was younger, but it was no longer the most important thing in his life.

He'd have to try harder. When Bruhn-sensei nodded, he threw himself into the dance.

Usually Fakir brought his lunch to avoid quarrels over which girl would give him a special, made-with-love meal. He liked to eat it by the pond where Ahiru spent her days, sharing bread and his thoughts. She was a good listener.

Today, the confusion of Utena's presence had distracted him in the morning. He'd would have to venture to the cafeteria to his meal, never his favorite thing. There were always people watching him.

He realized, belatedly, that Utena probably didn't have anything to eat, either. He wondered how she'd spent her morning, particularly if she met Aotoa. That would have been something he'd pay to see - he sensed that she wasn't going to take any crap.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he saw Utena come stomping out of the library. Her arms were held tightly to her sides. Her hands were clenched into fists.

Fakir wondered if he should fear for Aotoa's safety. As she saw him and drew nearer, he noticed that her mouth was set in a hard, thin line. Then he switched to wondering to where she hid the body.

He needed to go find Ahiru. But he had to ask first. "Ah...how did it go?"

If looks could kill, he would have fallen over twitching after Utena leveled a thoroughly-not-amused gaze on him. Then she shook her head, took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. "Is it really possible to be such a natural bastard, or do you think Aotoa works on it?"

He covered his mouth with a hand to smother the chuckles that wanted to escape. It would not be a very wise move on his part. "I think it's natural talent," he said after a deep breath of his own. "Are you hungry? We can go and sit somewhere and talk."

She nodded, and he motioned for her to follow. "We'll go pick something up at the cafeteria, then we can join Ahiru for lunch."

The cafeteria was a cacophony of shouting, laughter and clinking silverware. Other students pressed against them, making Fakir tense. He decided that speed was the better part of valor, making a run for the deli counter. "Sandwiches okay?" he shouted to Utena.

"Sure," she yelled back, looking bemused at the odd looks she was getting. Kinkan Academy was a large school, but a close-knit one. People were obviously wondering where the pink-haired girl - wearing a boy's uniform, no less - had come from.

The line for food was an imaginary thing - it seemed like the staff had decided it would be good endurance training to have the students fight for their lunches. Fakir had once heard that football players took ballet; it also seemed that ballet dancers were learning the rudiments of football.

Fakir was particularly good at the game, able to weave his way through the crowd with grace. A shoulder to a taller boy from the arts division, avoiding what would have been a devastating kick from a music major... and then he was at the front of the line, grabbing what he wanted.

He could feel Utena's eyes on him as he returned, clutching five sandwiches. "Looks like ham and tuna," he said. "Hope that works for you."

"That's fine," she replied. "I'm still not remembering much, but I don't think I had any particular aversion to ham or tuna."

He laughed a little at that, and led her down the path to Ahiru's pond. Ahiru herself met them halfway up it, quacking and flapping. "Are you scolding me because we're late?" he asked. He saw Utena hide a smile behind her hand. Ahiru pulled a duck face. She ran a bit in front of them, as if to tell them to hurry up.

The pond was on the side of campus, with trees nearby. It was really more ornamental than anything, but Ahiru seemed to enjoy spending time there. They settled down on the soft grass, and he peeled his crusts away, offering them to Ahiru, who accepted them eagerly.

"Would she like mine as well?" Utena asked, stretching out her slender legs in front of her.

"She'd love them. Sometimes I think she's a pig with wings." Ahiru glared at him and lifted her head with affronted dignity before returning to her lunch. "Aside from being a bastard, was Aotoa able to help you?"

"No," an unexpected voice said from behind them. Fakir cursed under his breath, wheeling around to glare at his distant cousin.

Aotoa was holding a lunch box, looking down at the pair with a neutral expression. "Can I join you?" he asked.

Fakir blinked. "Of course I don't mind," he said after he recovered. Ahiru chirped, chiming with her consent. "That is, if..." He glanced at Utena.

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's a free country," she said, though the arch of her eyebrows might have suggested otherwise.

Aotoa nodded and sat down. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he ate. His occasional glances towards Utena seemed to be at once thoughtful and wary. As if, Fakir thought, amused, she was a puzzle to be solved - or a bomb about to explode.

Utena seemed content with her ham sandwich, although she gave Aotoa a few less-than-friendly looks. She ate neatly, scattering no crumbs, and Fakir found himself staring at her. Her pink hair reminded him of Ahiru, although the shade was quite different. There was no delicacy in her, he reflected, but Fakir had never liked dainty girls. He preferred them to be strong, and Utena was certainly that.

"What? Do I have mayo on my face?" she asked, rubbing her lips half-heartedly.

He actually blushed a bit, not wanting to confess his thoughts. "I was just wondering if you had any plans yet."

She allowed him to divert her, popping the last bit of her lunch into her mouth. "Not really. I tried the computers, but I couldn't find anything about myself. No records, no nothing." She clenched her fingers in frustration, and he noticed the rose-shaped ring on her fingers.

"Have you tried looking up that symbol on your ring?" he asked without thinking.

"Huh?" She looked at the ring as if this was the first time she noticed it. "No, I haven't."

"What ring?" Aotoa asked, breaking his silence. Utena held up her hand. The pink-and-silver ring glinted in the light. Fakir's breath caught. The same sick sense of inevitability he had felt when he first saw the prince's sword enveloped him now. Inside his head, a voice that sounded like Ahiru asked, Another story?

"This one," Utena said. "I don't remember where I got it from, but I think it stands for something." She drew her hand back, frowning as she studied the signet. "It was important."

"Rings represent eternity," Aotoa said. "Did a boyfriend give it to you?"

"A... boyfriend?" she echoed.

Fakir thought that sounded wrong. Utena wasn't the type of girl to be hung up on boys and dating. Maybe it represents royalty, the Ahiru voice added. Don't princes wear those kind of fancy things?

He glanced at the duck, and saw Ahiru staring back at him. I'm going crazy, he thought.

"Maybe it's a family seal," he offered instead.

Utena bit her lip. For a moment, she looked very young. "I...don't think I had very much family. I kinda remember...coffins."

"Coffins?" echoed Aotoa.

Utena shrugged. "It's just an image. But a strong one."

Fakir looked at Ahiru, but neither the duck or the voice in his head seemed to have anything to add to that. "Maybe we should try looking up the design in the records." he said, returning to the original subject.

"I can scan it and use a program to search for similar designs," Aotoa offered. "Can I borrow it?" He held out a hand.

Utena started to remove the ring, but paused, shaking her head. "No. I'm sorry, but I don't want to take it off."

Aotoa looked offended. His eyes stared intently at Utena, before he huffed a bit in frustration. "I'll return it," he said impatiently.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "But I get the feeling that I have to wear it, no matter what."

"Like a wedding ring?" Fakir suggested. Utena looked too young to be married, but he'd learned not to trust appearances.

"Maybe," Utena replied, rubbing the face of the ring absently, "I don't think I was married. But it feels like I made a promise."

"To who?" Fakir asked. He knew the question was probably pointless, but felt he had to ask it anyway. Like a character in a story, keeping the flow of the narrative going, he thought uneasily. He reached out to stroke Ahiru's head, reminding himself of what was still real.

Utena hesitated for a long moment. "I don't know," she said finally, but sounded unsure. Fakir's unease was displaced by speculation. Maybe she had remembered something...

Aota's voice broke into his thoughts. "If you can't take it off, could I take a rubbing of it then? I could still scan the design that way." He said, adding irritably. "You're not making it easy for me to help."

Utena lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I do appreciate your help, though. Do you have any paper?" she asked. She held out her hand, offering tacit permission for Aotoa's plan.

Aotoa managed to produce a clean, white sketch pad from what Fakir knew was an impeccably organized bag. He watch Aotoa placed Utena's hand on his knee before covering it with paper. "Hold it steady," he advised, before covering the ring with a corner of a sheet. Using a sharp number two pencil, he pressed down, getting a reverse image of the ring as he covered the paper with black lead.

Aotoa finished sketching and held the paper up to his eyes, scrutinizing it. "That'll do," he said, more to himself than to the others.

Utena stood up and stretched, looking even more restless now that Aotoa had taken the rubbing. "What now?" she asked.

"I have afternoon classes -" Fakir began, but was distracted by Ahiru chirping at him.

Maybe she'll like to come along, said the Ahiru voice in his head at same time.

He hesitated, but finally gave up and asked tentatively in his head, Ahiru?, still wondering if he was going crazy.

The duck quacked in surprise, fluttering her wings in agitation as she moved to press a the tips of her feathers against his knee. You can hear me? You can hear me? said the voice, panicked and excited at the same time.

He nodded slowly, not wanting to draw attention. Ahiru, quack twice if you hear me. He wasn't sure if he wanted this to be real; a duck shouldn't be able to speak, but he had missed her voice so much...

On cue, Ahiru quacked twice, her eyes blue and huge before she launched herself, hopping awkwardly so she could land on his knee. Fakir, it's me!

He automatically cupped his hands around her so she wouldn't fall. Her feathers were soft against his hands and he smiled. Oh, Ahiru.

I can talk to you! This is wonderful! Ahiru babbled in his mind. Fakir could almost feel the bubbles of joy rising underneath her words.

It is, he agreed. But how is it possible?

Ahiru blinked her eyes at him. I don't know, she said after a pause, magic?

His stomach sank as he realized that this miracle probably foretold something more sinister. Magic, from his experience, wasn't a thing of purity. It was a thing of darkness and desperation, and even the seemingly benign gift of Ahiru's voice would probably have to be paid for in blood.

He didn't realize how long he'd taken to speak to Ahiru, because suddenly a hand set itself down on his shoulder. He glanced over, startled, as he stared into Utena's blue eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said.

"Did something happen?" Utena asked reasonably.

He didn't want to tell her. It would sound insane to someone who hadn't lived under Drosselmeyer's rule.

"No," he said instead, "I was just lost in thought." He took a last bite out of his sandwich. "Actually, I need to get back to campus."

"More classes?" asked Utena.

"Rehearsal. I'm in the school's production of the Nutcracker this year." Even amidst current events, he felt proud at this accomplishment.

"That sounds interesting," Utena replied. "Mind if I come along and watch?"

What about me? Ahiru asked in his head. Can I come, too?

You're a distraction, he told her. Then he realized that Utena was still waiting for his reply. "Um, no. That should be fine."

Aotoa, who was watching Fakir with distressingly knowing eyes, brushed his clothes off. "I'll stop by your house tonight and let you know if I found anything." He stared at Ahiru for a long moment. "And maybe we can talk."

Fakir glared at Aotoa. "Sure thing," he agreed, although he wasn't looking forward to it.

Utena ignored the byplay, instead rising to her feet. She began to stretch slowly, raising her hands to a clear blue sky. "When's your class start?" she asked.

Fakir looked at his watch and almost groaned. He only had ten minutes to change and make an appearance in the salle. "We'd better get going."

Utena nodded and waited for him to get up. Ahiru hopped up too, looking determinedly in his direction. He sighed. You're coming along no matter what I say, right? he thought at her. Her head bopped up and down. He had to smile then, despite it all.

When he looked up, Aotoa was still watching them. At Fakir's glance, he looked away and started walking. Fakir bit his lip, but said nothing.

Instead, he nodded at Utena and they begun making their way up the path.