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 8

Lord Akio Ohtori massaged his temples, his attempts to clear his tumultuous thoughts doing nothing for his headache. He stared down the length of the massive table that occupied the Hall of the Duelists. With a weary sigh, he lifted himself up from the table. As he stood, he depressed a button hidden on the armrest of his chair. As if responding to an unheard command, the lone candle went out as the enormous table suddenly jerked upwards, before beginning its descent in to the inky sea of the tiled marble floor. The grinding of gears whispered at the edge of Lord Akio's hearing. A click echoed off the walls of the Hall of the Duelists as the table finally settled half a foot below the level of the floor. The table slid horizontally away from where Akio still stood to reveal a set of stairs leading down into the deep dark.

Akio straightened his uniform with a sharp tug and took his first step into shadow. His path illuminated as a small candelabrum on the wall to his right flashed into existence when the sole of his shoe made contact with the marbled step. With every other step he made further down the pathway, another candelabrum would ignite of its own accord, just barely keeping the path directly ahead of him lit. Akio made his way down the steps, the silence of the pathway being disturbed only by the sounds of his heels striking the floor.

Sensing the end of the stairway, Lord Akio slowed his descent. As if on cue, two candelabrums directly in front of him flared to life, banishing the encroaching darkness. The candelabrums flanked a massive door, the entirety of which was covered with a tangle of roses, their thorns glinting in the flickering candlelight. The ornately carved golden handleset, bereft of the thorny ivy that covered the door, stood out like a beacon amid a dark sea. Akio stopped an arm's length from the door, his steel-gray eyes focused on the handleset. With the silent grace of ritual, he removed the dress coat of his uniform and hung it on a coat hook that shone at the edge of luminescence. The cufflink on his right sleeve came off soon afterwards; the sleeve of the silken shirt was rolled up by deft fingers to bare a lean and finely muscled forearm. The countless scars that marred the olive-toned skin glowed white beneath the candlelight.

Eyes closed, breath held, Lord Akio Ohtori reached for the handleset. The thorny ivy that covered the door exploded in a blur of movement. With a piercing grip, the thorns encircled the entirety of Akio's forearm, completely immobilizing his arm and halting his hand just as his fingertips barely caressed the handleset. Blood wept from both new wounds and old scars reopened. Akio calmly regarded his arm, his eyes taking in the sight of the rose thorns, bathed in his own blood, as they glistened in the candlelight. He looked up at the door. The steel-gray of his gaze locked onto the rose seal that had been uncovered with the shifting of the rose thorns.

"I, Akio Ohtori, Lord of the Ends of the Earth, bid entrance to the Sanctuary of the Rose." The challenge was given with practiced ease.

In silence punctuated only by the sound of blood dripping to the stone floor, the thorny ivy of the guardian roses slowly uncoiled from around Akio's forearm. They receded to the far sides of the entrance to expose the massive door. The handleset depressed of its own accord, and the door swung open to admit Akio.

The chamber within glowed and ethereal blue, the inner walls basked in soft hues. At the center of the circular room there stood a tall domed structure similar to a birdcage in appearance. The support structure of the cage was of highly polished silver wrought in intricate patterns designed to emulate rose blossoms and petals. The silver cage overlay a glass dome, the fluid sealed within being the source of the soft blue light.

At the geometric center of the birdcage floated a young girl. Her iridescent white dress flowed around her in gentle patterns, the fair skin of her arms and feet glowed with a life and fire of their own. The maiden floated in a curled position, her knees close to her body, her calves nearly touching the back of her thighs, her delicate arms wrapped loosely around her legs, her face close to her knees. The gently swaying mass of deepest violet that was her hair alternated between allowing full view of her person and completely obscuring her from view. On her forehead, just above her brow, was a simple red marking. The circle and teardrop shapes combined to resemble the silhouette of a keyhole. The blood-red of the symbol stood in stark contrast to her fair, almost pale, pink skin.

Akio Ohtori entered the sanctuary, his steps precise and his pace brisk. He stopped a foot away from the massive birdcage; a mirthless smile played across his lips as he observed the slumbering you lady within. Possessive eyes traced every contour and detail of her form. Akio's steady breathing played counter-point to the rhythmic splashing of blood dripping from his injured arm to the dark stone floor.

"Soon," Akio intoned as he reached up with his bloodied arm and pressed his hand, fingers spread, onto the glass. Warmth emanated from within the seemingly cold dome. "Soon you will awaken, and your power will be mine once again... a bride surrounded by roses..."

Akio threw back his head and laughed, the malevolent sound echoing off the black stone walls of the perfectly circular room. He gently passed his hand along the glass with all the tenderness of a lover's caress. In its wake, his hand left a long bloody smear. Backlit by the inner light of the dome, the blood glowed with its own ethereal hues as it slowly began dripping down the glass.

To Be Continued...