Case I: Saionji Kyouichi, Part B (BETA-ed by TheOnlyFlorence)
[Vehicle Detail: Tandem Bike, duo-witch-operated. Has double the pedaling power of conventional bike, but also more frictional loss in the drive train. NOTE: Witch riders refusing a compromise on cadence (on purpose?) may worsen instability issues.]
Time: Year of the Revolution
Place: Ohtori Academy
To each their omen.
Black cats, red moons, comets . . . different people believed different things will foreshadow their own bad luck.
Saionji himself learned the hard way that nothing good could ever follow ominous encounters with pink-haired people.
'Ever since that time . . .' thought the Kendo Club Captain, currently practicing alone at the School Dojo. There was apparent agitation marring the precision of his moves; so much so, that the hardcover exchange diary he carried with him always was threatening to fall out from under the kendo robe . . .
"You're Saionji Kyouichi, right?"
Pausing at the harsh, girlish tenor snapping at him in this blatantly disrespectful manner, Saionji turned slowly to see the pink-haired girl from earlier on (the one he caught Touga ogling) standing at the door.
"Wanna explain this?" asked the angry girl, waving a crumbled mess of a letter accusingly in his face.
"You're Saionji Kyouichi, right?" asked the leering man, waving a tangled mess of red hair accusingly in his face. "Wanna explain this?"
Triggered, Saionji could not stop himself from slipping into the impending slap fest with this girl - a reputation ruining moment for any self-respecting man - even had he tried.
Pink hair was definitely bad luck for him.
"It's me."
Watching the Kendo Dojo - now rife with the sounds of heated quarreling –- from some distance away, Touga spoke into his cell phone:
"Saionji really is having a slap fest with the girl you picked –- the duel you want will happen. But, are you sure a girl like that has what it takes to compete as a Duelist?"
Then came a brief pause, before the young man let out a husky, semi-awkward laugh.
"Well . . . I didn't exactly know her from before. . .
"Anyway, as per your direction, I made sure to catch glimpses of the girl in a seemingly subtle way that I know Saionji will notice."
Another pause came, this one ending in a smugly derisive snort.
"Of course I know my way around his buttons; we had a past, after all. Oh, your idea to involve Mikage Souji worked like a charm in further cracking his weak psyche-"
"Chu . . . Chu . . ."
Alerted by the sound, Touga glanced down to see Anthy's diminutive pet lurking in a corner. Currently, the monkey-like creature was tying a strand of pink hair together with a darker one into a girlishly pretty ribbon knot. Phone to his ear, the redhead's indolent gaze gradually came to narrow with something sharper; darker.
". . . indeed, Himemiya's dramatics are also crucial in driving Saionji to this raging, easily manipulated state.
"Did he recognize this new Duelist? Saa . . . who can say?
"As far as I know, Saionji had only met her a few times as a kid."
Time: 8 years pre-revolution
Place: Outskirts of Kiryuu Estate
"They're breaking out! They're breaking out!"
"Geez, you get so excited . . ."
Eyes wide, the boys watched as the many new-formed butterflies infesting the plants started unfurling their wings with the languidness of coral polyps. Cheering aloud, the flush-faced Kyouichi then grabbed Touga into a bear hug – one that the latter only struggled half-heartedly against, as he had his attention focused upon the growing insects. Sensing little resistance, the green-haired child continued snuggling against the pretty redhead in his fervent (and somewhat greedy) manner.
'Please God, let this moment last longer . . . just a little longer . . .'
Much later, as the two were treading home together under the sunset . . .
"Man, it's so cool that the kendo dojo right next town is giving classes to beginners," said Kyouichi, merrily pushing their tandem bike – loaded with both their backpacks – along the unpaved, shrub-flanked path connecting the towns. "Now we both have an excuse to stay away from home more!"
"Ba-ka," Touga, empty-handed yet also notably less cheerful, kicked at the pebbles on the ground, "what good is it if we still got to go back every night?"
"I wish moments like this can last forever." Smiling still, Kyouichi nonetheless felt his exuberance slowly but surely weighted down by a growing wistfulness. "We don't ever have to see our fathers again." Just the thought of having to be home again in less than an hour, and be again subjected to his father's drunken rage . . . Already his knuckles had whitened against the bike's handles: something he knew would not be lost on his observant companion, distant though his blue eyes now seemed.
"I've stopped wishing for anything since."
"Since . . . ?"
"Kyouchi, do you think the butterfly can remember how it was like as a caterpillar?"
"Huh?"
"I can't remember how it was like before I got here, not my old life, not my old home . . . not even that couple's face." The redhead's voice dropped low, as to be almost inaudible. "I can't remember anything before that day at the cabbage field . . . before you." Somewhat furtively, he glanced Kyouichi's way, prior to quickly facing away again. "When things change completely, when even the scenery changes, it's almost like . . . a revolution."
"Yeah . . ." agreed Kyouichi, understanding exactly what his friend and fellow victim was saying. "It's been almost two years since you and your sister got . . .adopted. Is Nanami-chan doing okay at the Kiryuu household?"
"She's okay," muttered Touga. "She thinks they're our real parents."
"Then at least Kiryuu is still leaving her untouched."
"At least there's tha-"
Peals of girlish laughter alerted the boys into quieting down. A visibly happy couple was coming onto the path from a side road, with their lushly-groomed young daughter – piggybacking upon her father's broad shoulders – currently generating the jubilant sound.
". . . and everyone in class agrees I'm the best choice to play the princess in the school play, cause I'm the prettiest!"
"Pumpkin, just because you're pretty, it's not nice to brag -."
"I'm not bragging – I'm proud! I'm pretty because I got papa's blue eyes and mama's pink hair! And when I get older, I'll become a beautiful model just like Mama for sure! Now, Mama; for my princess costume, I need this Sebastian Dior Baby Tiara – it has real crystal, not the cheap-looking plastic you see on little girl toys . . ."
"Oh, this daughter of yours . . ."
Even long after the merry family had passed them, Touga's gaze remained upon their departing silhouettes . . . or rather, the now distant figure of that pretty pink-haired girl. Watching him watch her, Kyouichi started to feel uneasy inside without fully understanding why.
Was it . . . was it because this girl was drawing Touga's attention away from him?
'Kinda . . . reminds you of Nanami-chan, doesn't she?" asked the green-haired boy, attempting to influence the redhead into thinking of the girl in unromantic terms. Seeing his friend jolt, he ventured on in this tangent. "So bubbly and energetic, and determined . . . I bet she's also a type-B too." The redhead remained resolutely silent; he spoke on. "Just now, I saw you watching her . . ."
". . . with this scary look in your eyes."
Turning at the voice, the boys saw the pink-haired girl from before walking up towards them . . . no, it was not her. This one is older, less flashily dressed, and definitely more mature of character. Her left arm was entirely covered in bandages, and her right hand held a large pink book: one with two stylized dragons, along with the word "Diary" on the front cover.
Diary . . . how Kyouichi had always wanted to share an exchange diary with Touga; had, in fact, proposed the idea to the other boy, not very long ago . . .
"Kyou-ichi! That's girl's stuff!"
And that was that.
"Are you hurt?" asked this new girl, her amber eyes – neither blue nor foolish like those of the other one – glinting enigmatically under the late afternoon sun. "In Pain? Unloved? I can help you if you want to." Her gazed then trailed off Touga and towards the bruises (barely) revealed under Kyouichi's rolled up short sleeve. "The both of you."
"You . . ." Shocked at having this stranger point out his dark secret, Kyouichi quickly rolled his sleeves back down. "You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Don't I?" asked . . . or rather, countered the strangely perceptive girl. Apparently getting over his bafflement, Touga stepped up to beside his now trembling friend.
"You're just a kid. What makes you think you can help us?" He made a point of eyeing her bandaged arm. "You look like you need help yourself."
"Uh uh." Unfazed, the girl held up her bandaged arm like she was showing off a badge. "These burns are the price I willingly pay to claim this magical artifact."
"Magical . . . artifact?" asked Touga, seemingly not quite prepared for the peculiar turn the conversation was headed.
"I have, under my ownership, the magical Fate Diary," explained the girl, whose mature voice and manner contrasted her childish words to eerie effects. "Written in this diary are the magic spells that can change the scenery of the world, and with it, the fates of the people inhabiting the scenery."
"What're you, a witch?" snipped Kyouichi.
"I wonder," mused this strange girl, taking no offence. "Women, men, children . . . even animals, I can change all their fates just by reciting the Diary's magic spells. And when it's done, no one else but me will know anything has been changed," she took a further step up towards the perplexed boys, "you'd both escape your bad fates without anyone knowing-"
"Momoka-chan!"
A delicately slender woman – looking elegant still despite how her left arm was also similarly bandaged like the girl called Momoka – came hurrying up towards them.
"Auntie . . ."
"You can't just run off from the clinic!" The aunt (who would look much younger if not for her conservative hat and stiffly styled waves) appeared to have a hard time running while wounded and in high heels (the unpaved, grass-matted path probably made it worse), and was breathing raggedly by the time she reached the girl. "Your burns are serious. . ." Her eyes widened in fright at seeing the pink diary in the girl's hand. "The Diary . . . "
"Sorry, Auntie," this Momoka girl hung her head. "I wasn't able to bring back Uncle Mamiya after all. The backslash-"
"Stupid!" This aunt berated the girl with a harshness that distorted her otherwise sweet voice. "Nobody asked you to do that for me! You're just a child! A child! You're not supposed to have to burn-" She forcibly stopped her tirade, having noticed the wide-eyed boys present. "Momoka-chan," deliberately softening her expression, the woman reached for the pink diary, "you have to give that back . . ." The girl deftly moved it out of her reach.
"No."
"No . . . ?"
"The Diary has since changed ownership – it is not your burning stake any more; it's mine now."
"Momoka . . . !"
"It's okay now." Smiling up at her aunt, the girl's small face now appeared aglow with something divine. "You can't withstand the Diary's flames without the Devil's Ring, can you? But I, I'm not afraid of getting burned to change the world for the better. From now on, I'll take the world's punishment in your place for the sake of its people."
As an onlooker, Saionji found this Momoka girl's current expression to mirror that of a portrait of Joan of Arc he once saw on in some children's book; years later, he would recognize the expression as one of strength and nobility.
"Don't say such stupid things . . ." whimpered the now defeated-seeming aunt, a tear tracking past the beauty mark beside her attractively curved lips. "Either way, you're not using the Diary while still wounded."
"But these boys-"
"You can't help everyone," stated the aunt, already ushering the little girl off and away. "No one can. We're going back to the clinic, where they'd transfer you to a hospital closer to your home . . ."
"Nutjobs," muttered Kyouichi, determined to deride the girl and her relative (despite having sensed something extraordinary in her).
It would not do to have Touga paying attention to this 'Momoka-chan' too.
"Say, Touga, your birthday party is coming right up. I want to come, but Father said we're not going . . ."
To that, Touga's expression darkened along with the dimming skies above. "Unless you want to join in the after party, there's really no point in coming."
"After party . . ." Kyouichi's mind drew a blank, before comprehension dawned upon his reddening face. "They . . ."
"Even the top dogs need to network with other top dogs," the redhead was now as sullen as he was self-conscious. "I suppose Kiryuu thinks I'm adequate entertainment for their fine gathering."
"What're you gonna do?"
"I don't know; maybe wait for some magical witch to come change my fate?"
Heart sinking, Kyouichi reached out to grab a handful of Touga's damnably enticing red tresses; the latter remained impassive to the touch.
"The grownups all like that hair of yours," murmured the young boy, his pained, husky tone sounding so old in that instant, he almost startled himself. "What if you cut it off?"
Downcast, Touga's voice dropped to a brittle whisper. "If the Kiryuus think I'm disobedient, they'd turn on Nanami."
Eyes on the wild shrubs up ahead –- the ones with their outgrown branches eating into the path –- an idea slowly dawned on the boy.
"Then . . . what if you have to get it cut because of some accident?" asked Kyouichi, gesturing up ahead at those unruly shrubs. Sharp as ever, Touga immediately got his drift, as the boy then practically leaped onto their tandem bike's front seat. Excited at being able to help his friend with something this big, Kyouichi grinned like the Cheshire Cat as he eagerly latched onto the redhead's slim waist.
'Maybe afterwards . . . maybe this time, he won't shot down my exchange diary idea anymore. Maybe this time, we could . . .'
"Ready . . . set . . . GO!"
Time: Year of the Revolution
Place: Ohtori Academy, Dueling Arena
'. . . when . . . where . . . who . . .?'
Amidst the sounds of ringing bells, along with the mild shower of scattered petal green against the tone-perfect blue skies, the newest Duel had just ended with definite finality.
"It can't be . . ." gawked Saionji, uncomprehendingly, from where he had fallen after getting his rose cut by his female opponent's snapped bokken. "I've... lost?" A shadow befalling him had him looking up and at his Bride and Flower. "Anthy . . ."
"Take it easy," said she who once was his Bride, her smile now perfunctory to the point of being spitefully condescending within its current context, "Saionji-sempai." And she left the Arena together with the unbelievably lucky pink-haired girl, leaving him sitting stupidly on the floor.
'What was that . . . WHAT IN THE FRIGGING HELL WAS THAT?!'
Time: 8 years pre-revolution
Place: Outskirts of Kiryuu Estate
It was at night, when he was out on the bike trail alone –- where he usually was on those nights his father brought women home - when that happened . . .
"You're Saionji Kyouichi, right?" asked the leering man, waving a tangled mess of red hair accusingly in his face. "Wanna explain this?"
In the end, even a smart kid like Touga couldn't make Kiryuu believe that the hair was lost to simple accident, after all.
Kyouichi would have ran, would have screamed, had that man –- and those others he had with him –- not been so much quicker and stronger than his oft-drunk father. In no time at all, they had restrained and silenced the boy, effortlessly dragging him into the dark toilet block beside the trail.
"It's your own fault, kid. You've made the wrong friend, that's why . . . ."
. . . hands, calloused and rough, pinned him down to the dirty ground . . .
'. . . Touga . . .'
Touga, whom he first met on the fields outside, whom he first got to know right here in this filthy place . . .
. . . was Touga now going through this same ordeal at that 'birthday party'?
Fingers, knotted around his hair, dragged his head up such that he had to face the leering, unbuckling men about to violate him . . .
". . . every bit as cute as Touga-chan, this one . . ."
". . . Kiryuu-sama don't know what he's missing out on by not being here . . ."
'With this, we're at last on equal footing . . . aren't we, Touga . . .?'
With that hysterically irrational thought, Kyouichi found everything suddenly becoming a whole lot easier to endure; yes, even this . . .
Time: Year of the Revolution
Place: Ohtori Academy
Jolting, Saionji Kyouichi came awake with a gasp.
Vision blurred, groggy mind confused, the boy pressed his palm against the dull ache plaguing his right temple.
"Anthy! Go get me the . . ." and his voice trailed off at remembering how Anthy did not live there anymore.
The Bride had since gone off with her new Victor.
His carelessness had cost him the only one who could lead him towards what he wanted.
*Thump . . .*
Glancing down, he saw his exchange diary having dropped to the floor beside the bed (had he actually fallen asleep holding onto it?). Downcast, he turned on the light before reaching down to pick up the item.
"No magic to this diary at all . . ." grumbled the moody youth, somehow recalling that strange little girl with her 'magical' diary at this moment. Anyway, what he once naively thought would help him better control Anthy - to better secure his chance at ascending the Castle of Eternity - was, in the end, just some childish ploy. Childish; how utterly childish of him to think-
And then he saw.
A strand of pink hair was poking out from between the exchange diary's pages. Prying open the hardcover book with trembling fingers, he saw what looked like an intricate, girlishly pretty ribbon knot. Artfully woven together, the knot was formed from two longish hair strands: one pink, the other dark blue as to be indigo.
The page bookmarked by the purposefully placed hair knot was Anthy's latest entry, dated only just the day before:
[Saionji-sama is my love.
Saionji-sama is my reason.
Saionji-sama is my eternity.]
*Ring.*
"Ah, it's you.
"So, Saionji-kun really is having a breakdown, huh? Are you with him . . . (brief pause) Oh, I see; you were right outside his suite when he threw a desk lamp right through the glass window. Heh, things must be highly dramatic on your end.
"Keeping your prince . . . pardon me, your friend monitored so late into the night just to give me first hard reporting; how diligent of you.
"Saionji Kyouichi will duel Tenjou Utena again, only to lose again. The Kendo Club Captain's repeated defeat at the hands of a sword novice will pique the interest of the more cautious Duelists, prompting them to engage this new challenger. Sore loser that he is, Saionji-kun's predictably abrasive actions in the coming weeks shall also be pivotal in drawing new candidates onto the Arena.
"Simply put, the Game is staying on course upon the continued sacrifice of one unstable boy's pride . . . and sanity.
"Now, are you truly fine with continuing to help me with this? You had quite the past with this boy, after all; if this is at all difficult for you . . . (pause) Very well then."
"Yes, you've been very helpful to me, Witch-kun . . . (brief pause) Oh, you prefer to be called the President now? Right . . . a proper title does have its importance, after all . . .
"Then, President-san: won't you agree that more than anything else, it is my sister's 'parting gift' that truly drove Saionji Kyouichi into his current raging, easily-manipulated state?
"My sister will be counting on your continued assistance as she steer Saionji towards just where I want him to go. Keep up the good work, President-san."
Putting down the phone receiver with a smirk, the seated dark man glanced up and at the smiling dark girl now standing demurely in front of his velvet sofa. Reaching up a long arm, he then undid the petite girl's updo in a casually intimate manner, sending luxuriant indigo tresses rippling down her shapely frame.
"Let me comfort you tonight too . . . Anthy."
Closing the lid over his cell phone, the redhead stepped quietly away from the First Class Student Residence, where the sounds of room-tearing rampage now was gradually dying down, to be replaced by loud, wounded sobs . . .
" . . . Anthy . . ."
Blue eyes narrowed at hearing Saionji's faintly audible whimper, Touga sped up his steps walking away along the unlit sidewalk . . . before almost falling forward as he tripped on something in the dark.
It was a bike; a tandem bike, to be exact. Rusted from age and ill-maintenance, the bike now was carelessly sprawled upon the ground, desolate-seeming in its discarded state.
Fists clenched, Touga pulled back his foot . . . before twin set of lights speared at him with an almost violent abruptness, pinning the young man to the spot. Peeking at the light source from between his fingers, he saw, to his non-surprise, the idling red convertible with the plate reading 'OHTORI'.
/"No need to kick them when they are down,"/ said the womanly alto coming through the from the car radio, /"things and people both. Won't you agree, President-san?"/
"Just call me by name like you always do," muttered the moody youth, who nonetheless got up to the car, opened the door on the passenger's side, and got seated. "We've known each other too long for word games . . . Mrs. Ohtori." He sounded unsurprised by how the driver's seat was visibly empty.
/"There's no point in feeling blue over this."/ Even mildly distorted by the radio speaker, Mrs. Ohtori's husky laugher still sounded (unintentionally?) sultry enough to melt bones with. /"The Devil's partiality towards the Witch is hardly anything new. We, who operate as his aides, only need to concern ourselves with getting the power we want out of him; the rest are all but minor details."/
"The Power of Revolution," muttered Touga, appearing strangely childlike in his current moment of unguarded, undisguised stubbornness. "The power to make anything possible, even at the cost of defying existing logics and status quos . . . the power to change things. For what have I - a man - entered Witchhood, if not to grasp this power?" Waist arched indolently back against the contours of the car seat, he stared up and at the indigo skies above. "If I cannot even change something so simple as the Devil's preference, then all the years I've devoted to this-"
/"Touga-kun,"/ Mrs. Ohtori cut him off, in a softly chiding voice that now had gained a maternal edge. /"You were a boy desperate to free yourself, your sister, and your friend from the abusive adults hounding you all at the time. You took up the Devil's offer of Witchhood for just that: protection. You've already gotten what you once wanted, only now you no longer think that's enough."/ The discontented teen now had his mouth flattened into a tight, horizontal line. Obviously seeing his expression somehow, the woman made an effort in softening her tone. /"To be honest, I'm rather bewildered by your current treatment of your friend, being that he was the main reason you got into-"/
"Only fools believe in real friends," Touga cut her back off, all the while stretching in this bratty manner, displaying an immature side he would be unable to show anyone less trusted. "It's late; I want to call it a night."
/"Very well . . . . Are you sure you don't want to take the wheel yourself this time?"/
"You know I'm still under-aged." The young man's matter-of-fact reply incited a smoky sigh from Mrs. Ohtori.
/"That, you are. Riding the bike really does suit you better, Touga-kun."/
"Move along, Mrs."
To that, the red convertible floored the gas petal on her own. Engine roaring, the car/woman then sped off into the night with the sulky boy witch (shirt undone, arms out, eyes closed), leaving the abandoned tandem bike where it remained in the dust.
End Case I, Part B
Note to Florence: I have decided to stick with "Ba-ka" after all, since few English words has quite the same meaning/effect. Also, I've added the scene with Touga and Mrs. Ohtori at the last moment for coherency's sake, so any mistake(s) ensuing is my fault only. Thanks for understanding, and for again working so quickly and efficiently!
