Damnation
Chapter 1
She fell to one knee, shoulders rising and falling heavily with each pained breath. Her head bowed low, she slammed her sword into the soft earth beneath her and clutched its hilt, counting on the tempered steel to hold her steady if her will alone could not. She could feel her hand slipping ever so slightly - the blood slickening her grip. A thin trickle of blood mingled with sweat slid down across her cheek, only to fall in heated drops on the black gauntleted hand below.
Pink tresses fell over black armored shoulders, which now began to tremble. She could not go on this way for much longer - that she knew, had known for a while now. Yet she could not rest. Every waking moment they cried for her, pleading with tears and humble, desperate tongues. Every waking moment there was a beast trying to ravage, a torch trying to destroy, a princess praying for a miracle. If she lay in rest, even for a moment...the innocent could be consumed by the demons who taunted them.
No. She would not allow their blood to be spilled. This was her destiny, and she would go on. As long as there was life in her, she would kill the beasts, douse the flames, and comfort the princesses. As long as she stole breath, her sword would not leave her hand, and her eyes would never close.
Denying a wave of dizziness its desired vertigo, she hauled herself up to her feet, twirling her sword in a heavy arc as she did so. There was a lively stream just a short distance to the west - she would allow her heavy-hoofed steed to rejuvenate himself there.
'Come, Dominion,' she spoke softly, taking hold of leather reigns and clicking her tongue. 'Just a little further...and I promise you may rest.'
Making not so much as a sound regarding his obvious exhaustion and discontent, the white horse merely followed his master, not understanding a single word she uttered, but feeling her honesty and good intention toward him in silence.
The girl ignored the lancing pain that shot through her swollen ankle every second step she took, along with the heat and weight of her armor. While Dominion rested, she could journey alone to the village, and return the sacred texts that had been stolen from the peaceful monks there. She had heard the cry of a maiden there along the way as well, once the tomes had been returned, she could ease the grief of the princess who wept for her, needing her. Any rest she needed could be found as she embraced the unknown girl; any strength she needed would be restored when the girl would smooth the furrow of her brow with a light kiss.
When the sorrow of that small realm had been vanquished, she would return to her mount and head north. The air thrummed with a tangible static, and if she rode through the night unwavering, she could intercept the dragon that was fast approaching before it reached the castle.
Perhaps, one day, if the cries ever ceased, she would return to her. The one with the deep green eyes...
...'I kept everything inside, and though I tried
It all fell apart
What it meant to me, will eventually
Be a memory...'
A few muffled curses resounded through the small room as a sleeping arm fought to regain circulation.
'I tried so hard, and got so far...but in the end
It doesn't even matter...'
A heavy thunk resounds as the aforementioned arm clumsily misses its target, slamming into the corner of the desk instead.
'I had to fall, and lose it all...'
More curses, no longer muffled.
'But in the end, it doesn't even matter...'
A clock radio sails off of its post, and lands somewhere in between piles of dirty clothes, scattered notebooks, and a week old pastrami sandwich.
Bleary cobalt eyes gazed in lethargic satisfaction as the cord tore out of the power outlet, silencing the offensive object.
Bleary cobalt eyes winced, as feeling suddenly returned to a newly conscious body, re-animating circulation deprived limbs.
Shaking her head, Tenjou Utena waited for the pain to subside, and peeled her cheek off of the textbook it had crashed against only a few hours before. Then, weaving a little with early morning grogginess, she tugged a clean uniform out of her closet and tossed it onto her bunk.
This was not a world for Princes.
To see her as she stepped into the small service station she worked part time at, one would never guess the pink haired girl had only slept about three hours and made herself presentable in a mere fifteen minutes. Her navy blue uniform was crisp and immaculate, every crease honed to a razor's edge; her shirt neatly tucked into the waist of her sensible trousers. Even her sleeves, rolled up past her forearms to her elbows, seemed to have a dignity about them. Her small tie was inconspicuously clipped tightly to her shirt by a small bar of silver that lay behind a button.
Her eyes were clear and bright, despite the lack of rest they'd gotten.
Tenjou was a model employee.
Hearing the electronic service alarm that sounded whenever anyone stepped through the station door, there was a scuffle from the garage as a burly man strode into the office, prepared to offer assistance to the waiting customer. He looked at Utena, and slowly a grin crossed his face.
"Right on time," he flipped his wrist and checked his watch, "down to the minute. How do you always manage it, Tenjou?"
She flung out a small salute and smiled sheepishly. "Trade secret, Makoto. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, smartass. I'll save you the trouble of staining your hands then. For now though, lose the tie and throw on some coveralls. I gotta run early today, so I need you to finish up with the Mustang in the back." He jerked his thumb towards the garage. "I already flushed the transmission, so that should be good. I need you to do a quick oil change, then replace the serpentine belt. The one that's in there's cracked up pretty bad - I'm surprised it hasn't snapped already."
Utena had already opened her locker, and was tugging the dark gray coveralls on. "What do you expect with those foreign cars? Usually, they're nothing but show and shine. You got the belt out there already? Or am I going to have to look through that godforsaken storage room again?"
"The belt's there on the block." A brief bout of laughter. "I've called in Nabiki to watch the front...she should be here in a few minutes." A mischevious grin that could be heard more than seen. "I mentioned the fifty dollar bonus involved to whoever braved that storeroom and managed to come back out alive. You can bet it'll be finished by the end of the day."
"...But what if she doesn't make it out?"
He wrapped a playful arm around her shoulder as he gestured broadly. "Why, then my good friend Tenjou Utena will become a hero, having risked life and limb and many a papercut to save her from the evil that lays within," ...a pause for dramatic effect, "The Storeroom!"
Growling, she pushed him away and elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah yeah, I'd run right in there like some fucking prince on a white horse."
...getupgetuphavetogetuporthey'llkillher!
"Tenjou? Hey...are you ok Tenjou?"
She shook her head and threw out what she hoped would be a convincing lopsided grin. "Yeah, yeah, there's no problem. So, when should I have the Mustang ready to fly?"
"The owner will be back here around three. You should have plenty of time."
take my hand!
Utena nodded as Makoto pulled his jacket on and turned to leave. "Alright...hey, make sure to leave the key up front or something for me. That way you don't have to come back to lock up."
"Already taken care of. It's in your locker." A small salute that imitated the one Utena had tossed earlier. "Keep everything in one piece while I'm gone...and thanks again."
With that, he was gone. And Utena was left with nothing but the voices in her head, and holes in her memory that it seemed she could never fill.
***
If she'd bothered to keep track of the exact dates, she'd have known it had been exactly five years and two hundred and seventy days since she'd woken up in the infirmary, a thick bandage wrapped tightly around her chest and a cough that drew blood. She hadn't kept that close of track however, and when one wakes up to see themselves in the pathetic condition she'd had, and then realizes they can't even remember their own name on top of that - the days just start to run into one big blur.
The doctors said she'd been found bleeding to death on the side of the road near that old wreck of an Academy, Ohtori. A statuesque woman with golden rings in her hair who refused to leave her name had brought her in, believing Utena was already dead. She had been rushed into emergency, only for the paramedics to find that the woman had probably been right - no breath or pulse indicated the body had any spark of life left in it to save.
Just as they were about to send the order for an autopsy form, a strange thing happened. The girl took a deep, shaking breath, and a steady beeping could be heard from the EKG machine she was hooked up to. There had been nothing but a flatline...and then there was just...life. A weak, yet fighting heartbeat. A slight fluttering pulse. Unassisted breathing.
The doctors could only stare in awe and amazement as the dead revived before their eyes.
After her 'revival', word spread about the rose haired girl in the hospital. Any doctor or nurse that was assigned to treat her could be found wearing a crucifix, or held a holy charm of another sort in their pocket. They feared to touch her. In fact, some hoped she'd never open her eyes again, life or not. What had happened may have appeared to be a beautiful thing, but to most it was regarded as the work of a demon. Benevolent entities never made their presence known, did they? It was so much easier to simply fear and mistrust than to believe a miracle had occurred in front of human eyes.
But small minded fears have to be confronted at some point, and that day came only fourty-eight hours after Utena had been admitted. A doctor had been reading her vital signs and filling out a few blank spaces on her health chart, when she finally opened her eyes and spoke.
'Where...am I?'
A startled gasp as a soft, feminine hand brushed against her cheek, shining a small light into her eyes. 'Y..you're awake.'
A wince of pain and she turned her head to the side, and closed her eyes. 'Please...don't...shine that...hurts.'
A guilty furrow crossed the lady doctor's brow. She had heard the rumors that surrounded this patient as well, and although she believed herself to be a woman of intelligence, not superstition, she'd still had an unrestrained urge to see the simple humanity in the girl's eyes.
She was very relieved to find it there.
'Ah,' she spoke slowly, 'I apologize. Here, please, turn around and look at me again...I won't cause you any more discomfort.'
Utena nodded slowly and turned to face the doctor. 'I...'
The doctor could see what an effort it was for the girl to speak at this point, so she motioned for silence. 'Please, just try to relax,' she said warmly. 'My name is Doctor Hoshii. I know you must be very confused now, so I'm going to tell you what I can...and then I want you to try to rest some more, alright? It's very important for your recovery.'
True to her word, Dr. Hoshii told Utena all that she could. That she was apparently an orphan, brought in by a woman who'd found her near the Ohtori wreckage. She had been badly injured - stabbed clean through from front to back. By what looked like...oddly enough, a rapier or something similar. Amazingly, no vital organs had been caught in the crossfire. However, she would bear a cruel scar because of it - the wound had been painfully infected when she arrived, which was four days ago. She'd been sleeping in fever since then.
Then, the doctor pulled a small laminated card out of her pocket. She kneeled beside her patient and showed it to her. 'This was the only item you had on you.' It was horribly smudged, and curled around the edges almost as if it had started to...burn...somehow. Despite its mutation, it was easy enough to recognize what it was.
A student ID card.
A student ID card with a barely legible 'Expelled' stamp across it.
'As you can see, I can't make out the school that issued this out to you - as a matter of fact, the only thing any of us can read off of this is your name. Can you tell me what your name is?'
The girl's eyes closed, and her brow furrowed in thought. 'My name...?'
'Yes, if you could please.'
'...'
'Are you alright?'
'I'm sorry...but...I don't know my name.'
***
She was confirmed amnesic that night, though the extent of her memory loss couldn't be deduced. Perhaps her memory would return after she recovered. Perhaps it would not. One could never tell with the human mind - no matter how many new computers mankind could build, no matter how much study was done and progress was made, there was no one on earth who had been able to properly roadmap it yet.
And memories were such tricky, flighty things...
As Utena focused her mind on remembrance, her body focused on functioning smoothly again. She had been very fortunate with her injury, as the doctor told her, but not fortunate enough to escape some painful nerve damage that had to be worked through with physio-therapy. Three hours a day, six days a week, Dr. Ryu Akara would escort her out of her room, and into what looked like a grownup version of a kindergartener's jungle gym. There, she would play the puppet for the doctor, climbing what he told her to climb, lifting what he wanted her to lift. Forcing herself to stay tall.
No matter how much it hurt, she always had to stand.
When she'd first started the sessions with Dr. Akara, there'd been one instance where she simply could not stay on her feet. She had been working with the medicine ball, and she overextended her arm, miscalculating the force she'd need to toss the ball away. The pain was excruciating, and her effort to stay on her feet had caused her to black out completely. When she awoke later on, and remembered what happened, she felt an unexplained sorrow so deep she was consumed by it for days.
Her body had strengthened enough to match her will with some time, and it never happened again.
Every Sunday, when Dr. Akara had the day off and she was allowed a brief reprieve from her physical therapy, her mentality would stand its trial. Psychologists would eat lunch with her while trying to pick her apart with 'trigger games'...hypnotists would spend hours with her trying to successfully pull her into a regression. Only one of the pendulum swinging M.D.'s had been even remotely successful, and all they managed to pull out of the girl was gibberish about roses and duels and princesses that were brides who smelled like roses.
He never made official note on anything he'd heard, writing her amnesia off as 'too deep rooted' for anything to be done.
With that, along with a clean bill of health and full recovery, Tenjou Utena and all files pertaining to her became property of the government.
She was sent to an orphanage.
***
The food was vile, the beds were hard and it smelled funny. Other than that though, Utena didn't really mind the fact she was in an orphanage. She supposed that was because she couldn't remember a life that was any better. She was told her parents were dead, but she couldn't remember anyways. She was told she had, at some point, been enrolled in some sort of high class private school. But she didn't remember. And even if she'd been told that she'd had a bedroom suited for a princess in a mansion far away before all of this happened; having two drawers and the top half of a bunk at this point really wouldn't bother her.
Nothing that was matters when you can't remember.
The standard purpose of an orphanage was to sell off kids, plain and simple. 'Oh, look at this one, she has a bright smile and perfect teeth. And this one over here - look, he's so smart he's advanced an entire grade early in his studies. Surely he'll provide well for his parents when they're old. And last but not least, take a look at this fine young lady. Graceful and elegant, her manners are sure to please any parent.'
But with Utena...
Utena was the one they made sure the parents DIDN'T see.
Oh sure, they'd tried as much with her as with the other children at first. The broody scowl could be transformed into a sign of 'maturity' and 'deep thought'. The fact she wore boys trousers and a t-shirt could be attributed to the fact that she was 'very physically active', and a healthy body usually reflected on a healthy mind. The book of fairy tales she kept with her was of course an assuring sign to any prospective parent that Utena was a normal teenage girl, with her own world of hopes and daydreams.
But they could never explain why it was Utena would never speak.
With the other orphans, Utena was sociable enough. Sure, she had her quiet times, but it wasn't odd to find her in the center of a heated soccer match with the rowdier of the bunch, laughing and yelling right along with them. Yet, whenever a prospective parent came along, she would act as if she was mute. Which was exactly what the would-be-parents assumed....causing them to look at different options.
It was perfect.
Utena did not want to be adopted. And she would never be able to explain her reasons for this to anyone, for she hadn't even understood them herself. It was just a phrase, that kept pounding throughout her entire being...
'A Prince never burdens others'.
...She didn't know why that gibberish had meaning to her.
Just that it hurt so very badly if she ever tried to ignore it.
A vicious yanking of her leg pulled her out of her recollections.
"Utena!"
"I--hey!" the pink haired girl's cry of protest was cut short as she found herself flailing under a gush of dirty motor oil, then skidding across the floor until she finally spun into a wall. Her hand reached out and felt around for something she could use to wipe the filthy grit from her eyes. Finding nothing readily available, she settled for the back of her sleeve.
She cautiously opened one eye and looked up to find a pair of narrowed brown eyes looking down at her, postively radiating fury. Nabiki.
"Utena!" the girl repeated, as if she hadn't already gotten her attention. "I've been calling you for the last fifteen minutes! I thought you'd died under that car or something!"
A look of confusion fell across Utena's oil smudged face. "I never heard anything." She stood up, wincing at the pain in her shoulder her collision had caused.
Nabiki's eyes softened a little. "I'm sorry about that," she said quietly, "I just seriously thought something was wrong." Her lips curled up in a grin. "But I should have known better. You're usually all zoned out in your own world."
Utena felt her cheeks grow warm as she picked a small box from an overcrowded filter shelf. "I am not...I...I just focus..."
A raised eyebrow. "Oh yeah? On what?"
A mischevious lopsided grin. "On my work. Something a few other people around here could do well to learn from..."
"Hey!" A look of indignantion followed by a childish stamping of a foot. "I'll have you know I'm going to work very hard today. I've decided it's high time someone cleaned out the storeroom for Makoto..."
Utena tried not to snicker at Nabiki's nobility act. She'd never even stepped foot in the storeroom before. "My apologies, Nabiki," she stated with mock sincerity. "You are truly a saint..." a pause. "One who will be fifty dollars richer than me."
Nabiki's face flushed right to the tips of her ears. "Well...well...," she stammered, "I mean, that's nice...but...I was planning on doing it anyways! Yes! So, you go back to doing your.." she waved her hand impatiently, "...your messy car thing, and I'll go do my job." She started to walk out of the garage, and turned to look over her shoulder. "It's the second door on the left, neh?"
"Yeah." Utena nodded in reply, and layed back down on the mechanic scooter. "That's the one." She grinned to herself as she slid back down under the mustang, deciding to keep her mind out of the past for the rest of the day. She had a feeling staying sharp would be to her benefit today.
A horrified scream resounded throughout the service station as soon as Nabiki opened the storeroom door.
Utena's instincts were usually right.
"Do you have an eight?"
"No," a sigh. "Go fish."
Utena pulled another card from the worn deck kept in the office for times like this. A King. "Figures." she grumbled.
Nabiki tossed her cards down in irritation. "What time is it?"
Twist of a wrist. "Only eight-thirty. Still another half hour to go." Blue eyes scanned over Nabiki's abandoned hand, and a pink eyebrow quirked. "Should I deal for poker this time, or are we back to war again?"
A groan, and a head falling against the counter. "Ugh. I wanna go home."
The infamous half grin. "Big date or something?" She pulled Nabiki's cards in and began to shuffle. "If you want to head out early, you can go ahead. I'm locking up anyways."
For the first time in the hours since Nabiki emerged from the storeroom, covered head to toe in dust and with cobwebs dangling from her hair and ears, there was a spark of life in her eyes. "As much as I'd like to, there would be guilt." She stood up and made her way over to the soda machine in the corner and slipped in a few coins in exchange for Coke. "Deal me in for war. You always seem to win with everything else." her purchase thunked hard against the metal receiver, and she eventually managed to yank it free. "Do you want anything?"
Utena shook her head and started to deal the deck out between Nabiki and herself. "No thanks. I still have some left." She looked up when Nabiki fell back onto her stool, half of her pop already gone. "You know, you really do look tired." Her brow furrowed. "You should probably go home and get some rest. Didn't you mention having a final or something this week? Better to spend what's left of your energy on that than here playing cards. That way you won't have to stay at this dump much longer."
A dump. As much as she liked the place, she had to admit that's what it was. A small, worn service station tucked into a dilapidated nook of the city. Their main clientel were car thieves who needed cleanup work done before a deal, by people who could easily forget faces and never asked for real names. There was the odd legitimate job as well -- a city that size, breakdowns occasionally happened right on the street in front of them. The Mustang had been one of those occurences -- Makoto probably wouldn't have left it in her hands otherwise.
Makoto.
Despite the kind of people he was inadvertently helping, he wasn't a bad man. Utena had known that, even before he told her about how sick his little girl was, and how he needed the money to keep paying for her chemotherapy. Even if it came from thieves with links to the Yakuza. Even if it came from the Yakuza itself. Anyone who would take an orphan under their wing in an apprenticeship, not even caring about the invisible gender boundaries society still places on jobs like the one she held, not even caring about the fact she'd had no real previous experience in the field, could not be a bad person.
No, the man Utena thought was the closest thing she'd ever have to a father...he was good.
Utena could never remember having a father. When she'd walked into the service station two years ago, she hadn't been coming in to find one. She'd come in looking for a way to step out of the orphanage and into the real world -- she'd come looking for a job.
Dressed in a sleek black and white tracksuit she'd picked up with a bit of the trust fund she'd been given access to the day she turned eighteen, Utena had done her best to radiate cool and confidence. She knew this was the kind of place she had to dress just right for -- she couldn't come in looking like a class act, or they'd laugh her out before she'd even had a chance to say her piece. She couldn't come in looking her worst either; not only would it make her look as if she didn't care whether she was working or not, it would have also been disrespectful.
After careful consideration, she felt the track suit -- open jacket with spotless white t-shirt underneath -- would be her best bet.
Chances are, it had been. True, she did attract a stare or two from a few of the temporary mechanics working in the garage, but the 'receptionist' (it was hard to imagine anyone working the desk in a hole like this as someone professional enough to bear that title -- a fact that irked Nabiki to no end once Utena mentioned it after she'd taken the position) seemed to approve, even giving her an encouraging nod as she told Utena to wait in the back, the manager would be with her in a few moments.
It was only about a half minute, really, before before she met Makoto Hyoshi for the very first time.
She'd had a good feeling about him right away. When he sat down in front of her, there was no prejudice or disbelief in his eyes as he gave her a casual once over. Only simple curiosity. He was quiet for a moment, and then began to ask her about herself. The usual things -- her name, age, bit of background information, had she ever had any problems with the law, etc. She answered each politely, and to the best of her ability, having expected all of this.
She hadn't expected what he asked next though.
'Why?' he asked, simply. Not 'why should I hire a girl?' or 'why are you even trying for this?' ...just the one word. Why.
She knew the only answer she could give then was an honest one, as sad as it may sound to him. She hadn't chosen this job because it looked more promising than any of the other listings in the paper, or because she desperately wanted to leave the orphanage at any cost now that she'd come of age. No, her entire reason for all of this had been a few inked words.
'The paper...your ad in the paper,' she spoke quietly, '..it said you needed help.'
He seemed to understand what even she herself did not. And he smiled.
"Well what about you?" Nabiki asked bluntly. "I mean, you seem to be pretty comfortable here, but you're in college too. Don't you have any finals coming up to study for?"
Utena grinned lopsidedly at her. "I'm majoring in philosophy," she said simply. "I'm not worried."
Nabiki's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'not worried'? Its finals! No matter what you're taking, its like some kind of law that you have to be stressed out about it! Don't you want to pass?"
"Oh, I don't know. You see, interesting thing about Philosophy. You sit around thinking deep, meaningful thoughts about being unemployed."
"Your point being?!"
"Would you want to excell at something like that?"
"......"
"I rest my case." Utena waved her hand and pushed the cards off to the side. "Just take off early...I can handle it from here."
Nabiki looked about to protest for a few moments, but then exhaustion won out. "Alright, thanks Utena. But you know, I already punched in full time on my clock sheet..."
"I hear nothing. I know nothing...I alter nothing."
Nabiki gave her a toothy grin as she pulled on her jacket and walked out the door. "You know Utena, you really are a Prince."
"......"
I'm sorry, but you can't become my prince...
--and with that, the door closed and she was gone.
....because you're a girl.
It was hard to breathe.
painpainpainnewprincestabyouhateyoufailurepainpainpain--
She fell to her knees, and clamped her hands beside her head. "SHUT UP!"
...kashira, kashira...
She coughed painfully, a splatter of blood tinting her lip.
--abandoneduspainpainstabyouforever--
A nightmarish cold sweat broke over her body. Mussed pink bangs clung to her forehead and brow. A broken whisper barely spoken. "...leave me."
There was nothing.
She was just a woman kneeling to catch her breath. Maybe she was sick. It felt like a fever.
There was nothing.
Deciding that staying the extra few minutes just in case didn't matter anymore, Utena pulled herself to her feet and shakily put her coveralls back into her locker, and took out the key.
She locked up and left.
