Way of the Rose
By Jorge Quinones
Ye Olde Disclaimers: Shoujo Kakumei Utena (Revolutionary Girl Utena) and all the characters pertaining to the manga/show were written by the wonderful Chiho Saito and brought to animated life by the folks at B-Papas and the skillful directions of Kunihiko Ikuhara. The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!
Chapter 4
At the head of a massive table sat a man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a brooding expression. His olive complexion stood out in stark contrast to his light lavender hair. He had his hair tied in a simple ponytail that rested haphazardly on his left shoulder, the tip spilling down to mid-chest. Hidden among his bangs were stormy gray eyes that almost glowed in the dark chamber where the table stood. He held his hands together, fingers steepled, as he absently tapped his index fingers against his lips. The golden buttons of his military-styled attire reflected the light of the single candle that adorned the center of the table. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he leaned further back in his chair. A knocking on a door hidden somewhere in the darkness caused the man to stir from his reverie.
"Enter." The command was concise and wielded with authority.
The heavy doors opened slowly, the light of the hallway flowing into the room. A young woman dressed in a resplendent and flowing white gown entered the chamber. She stood at the threshold, shivering, though not from any chill. She was afraid. She began to shiver even more as the man's gray eyes bore down on her.
"Yes?" he asked casually, with an air of boredom.
"M-my lord…" she stammered as her eyes looked to the floor. "Lord Kiryuu wishes an audience with you."
"I see. Show him in."
With an almost grateful sigh, the young lady bowed deeply and quickly exited the room.
"Touga," the man murmured to himself. He turned towards the door. "It has been too long, my friend."
"Indeed, my lord Akio," Touga Kiryuu responded as he bowed his head in respect, his flowing mane of red cascading down his shoulders.
"I trust your journey was… pleasant? Please…" Akio motioned towards a corner of the room. A fully stocked bar appeared in the darkness, illuminated in a soft lavender hue.
Touga chuckled as he approached the bar. "As pleasant a journey as any across the Black Rose Dunes can be." He removed his cloak and adjusted his similarly styled uniform.
"Such a diplomatic way of putting it, my dear Touga. The usual?"
"If you please. Tell me, my Lord Akio, have any other members of the Council arrived?" Touga inquired as he took Akio's offered drink.
"Indeed. Lady Juri Arisugawa, Lord Miki Kaoru, and his sister, the Lady Kozue, have already retired to their respective rooms for the evening. Lady Chigusa Sanjouin is due to arrive within the next two days."
"I see…" Touga said, lost in thought as he raised his drink to his lips.
"Oh yes, how could I forget… Lord Kyoichi is training at the fencing hall, as we speak…" A feral grin played across Akio's features for a fraction of an instant.
Touga turned to Akio, his drink forgotten on the table. His icy blue eyes intently studied Akio's unreadable gray eyes. Unexpectedly, he began to chuckle. "If you'll excuse me, my Lord Akio," he said as he pulled a stray lock of his blood-red hair out of his eyes. "I do believe I must go say 'hello' to an old friend…"
"Of course." Akio responded with a nod of his head. "Enjoy yourself, Touga, for the Council convenes in three days."
Without a further word spoken, Lord Touga Kiryuu exited through the doorway that conveniently appeared at the far wall.
Alone once again in the darkened room, Akio Ohtori approached the bar. He picked up Touga's still untouched drink and intently studied it. A resigned sigh escaped his lips as he stared at the glass with eyes that held a sad inevitability. He began to chuckle, a low sound with a malevolence that filled the entire expanse of the room. His eyes no longer held the same sadness as before, but a calculating malice as he downed the entire drink in a single gulp and sent the glass hurtling towards the wall. The sound of the glass shattering was lost amidst the sound of Akio's full-throated laughter.
The sword danced through the air, an extension of the arm of the master who wielded it. The form was simple, yet elegant. The blade effortlessly cut down whatever imaginary opponents the warrior faced as he worked through the exercise. His wavy mane of green was tied back in a simple ponytail, more for function than for style. His lavender eyes shone with the highest of concentrations, the sweat upon his forehead and exposed chest testament to his exertion. The billowing sleeves and pant legs of his fighting gi hid the movement of his arms and legs, making it difficult for any would-be opponent to gauge his actions. The warrior curled his lips up in a fierce snarl and loosed a war cry as he finished his exercise with a powerful downward swing.
The sound of clapping from the entrance to the fencing hall caught the warrior's attention. He turned towards the sound, smoothly sliding the katana into the sheath at his left hip. The figure's face lay hidden amidst shadow, clapping hands and highly shined shoes the only parts of their person peaking from the darkness. The finely manicured hands ceased their clapping and fell to the figure's side.
"Impressive as ever, my dear Saionji." The amused masculine voice commented from behind shadows.
Saionji Kyoichi narrowed his eyes, his right hand instinctively reaching for his katana.
"Who is that? Step into the light," he commanded as he gripped the leather-bound handle.
"I'm hurt," answered the figure as he stepped forward into the soft light, his shoes clicking smartly on the hardwood floor. "You don't remember your old friend?"
"Touga Kiryuu," he answered with a derisive snort, "is no friend of mine."
"Do come off your high horse, my dear Saionji. It doesn't suit you."
"And the false air of sincerity you present doesn't suit you." Saionji shot back as he walked to a stand along a near wall. Multitudes of wooden practice swords were held horizontally at varying heights. He propped his own sword against the wall and retrieved two wooden swords from their hooks. "Has your scheming and flattering left you any time to train, I wonder?"
Touga smirked as he unbuttoned his coat and set it upon a nearby coat rack. "Has your constant devotion to training left you any time to refine your conversational skills, I wonder?"
His question was answered by a dismissive laugh. "Let us converse in the manner of true warriors and I'll show you exactly how refined my 'conversational skills' are," Saionji brandished his wooden training sword to emphasize his point. The other he held out to Touga.
With an amused chuckle, Touga took the offered sword. "Indeed, and I shall show you that 'scheming and flattering,' as you so eloquently put it, are not the only talents I have pursued."
Both master swordsmen stood facing each other, each already in his battle stance. Saionji held his sword high above his head, poised for an initial and decisive downward strike. Touga held his sword low and loose, the shaft of the wooden blade almost parallel to the ground, the extreme concentration in his eyes betraying the lax appearance of his chosen stance.
They lunged at each other, a blur of movement as their respective swords met with a resounding clank. Each continued their onslaught, neither giving any ground as supreme technical skill was matched by a pure passion of the blade. Both Saionji and Touga smiled, enjoying the challenge they presented each other, a challenge they've not had in a long time.
"So, the preening peacock does have talons," Saionji commented as he deflected a slash meant for his abdomen.
"It would seem the lumbering ox does have finesse," Touga returned, ducking under a precise jab.
The battle ended as it had always ended during the bouts of their youth. A skillfully placed jab at Saionji's chest ended the duel. The green-haired warrior felt a slight pressure on his chest and looked down with a wistful grin. Both fighters parted, bowing to each other in a mutual show of respect.
"A different time, and both of us different people from when we were young… yet always the same outcome."
"Perhaps the same outcome, but your skill has indeed grown since last we met," Touga acknowledged with a salute of his wooden sword.
"Such modesty. I thought you incapable of it." Saionji returned the salute.
They both shared a laugh as they replaced the wooden training swords on their respective stands. Saionji retrieved two towels from his saddlebag, placing one on his shoulder and offering the other to Touga. He accepted it with a nod, realizing that he indeed had worked up quite a sweat during the duel.
"Three days…" Touga said absently as he wiped the sweat from his defined arms.
"Yes. Three days… my, how the years have passed."
"Indeed."
They both stood, each mindful of the coming days, and the challenges soon to be. Saionji was the first to break the silence.
"I take my leave, but I wish us both good fortune in the coming days." With a bow, he grabbed his saddlebag and made his way towards the entrance.
"Good fortune, my dear Saionji."
With a nod, Saionji left the Fencing Hall; a pensive Touga stood alone, his mind full of tumultuous thoughts.