The Circle is Small
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Buried under the confusion that I create—you might recognize a
name, a face or some lyric. Most likely because I've borrowed them for the
duration. Along with the confusion, you might notice a few liberties were taken
with continuity and genre. Most likely because this is a crossover of several
anime series all taking place in an alternate reality of my creating. Technically,
this is the fourth chapter of "Never to Close" the sequel to "Happy Now"—
altogether becoming the longest fanfic series I've ever written. I'll try my
hardest to wrap it up soon so it'll actually have an ending! Imagine that! Enjoy)
***
"Enough, enough, Faye! I can't hold any more." Utena tried to rest her chin on
top of the pile of loose clothing, parts of a tool kit, and a large box full of
artificial flowers.
Brushing her hands against each other with a satisfied sounding smack, Faye
rolled her shoulders back trying to set free a little tension. "Tonight's the night,
Utena! Tonight, you should be prepared to hold more roses than that small
bundle. Roses from my admirers!" Faye squealed gleefully, dancing around the
changing room with a little more enthusiasm that she really felt.
"It's only the pre-show performance . . ." Utena began, but Faye cut her off with
a look.
"Listen, Miss Stage-Manager." Faye took a few menacing steps toward the
slender girl, all dressed in black so she could slip through the shadows during
the show, "Tonight! Tonight, Faye Valentine makes her debut to the press."
The last word resounded toward the ceiling, but when it ended, Faye's look
changed and she put one hand on Utena's shoulder, jostling the bundle she held
precariously. "I'm as scared as all get out! Pray for me. I'm going to be awful .
. ."
"Now, you'll be just . . ." Utena knew she should be consoling and
understanding, but the limb of a broken chair was uncomfortable stabbing into
her stomach.
"Just awful!" Faye swooned dramatically, one thin arm blocking her eyes.
"It's not as if your role is that important . . . " Utena was suddenly inspired, "I'm
sure the man from the Times won't even notice you . . ."
Faye didn't move for a full ten seconds. "What did you say?"
With an amused laugh, Utena spun around and bolted from the room, still
holding the odds and ends as best she could. The prop room was a disaster area,
no matter her careful planning and stern scoldings through the last weeks of
rehersal. The home stretch was wearing everyone thin, even Utena found her
patience being severely tested.
"Ruka!" Utena greeted, as she promptly deposited her armful onto the center
table for sorting. "Are you missing something?"
The actor was leaning against the wall looking intently through a collection of
stage jewelry with his free arm. Without looking up, he answered, "I'm looking
for some sort of locket. Anything about this big," He demonstrated with his
fingers.
"What for?" Utena stepped behind him, peering into the box and letting her
right hand shift a few classic looking broaches. "If you're looking for something
for Juri—try the jewelry store."
"That's not . . ." Ruka let a heart-shaped locket dangle inches from his face, then
curling his lip he murmured, "Why are lockets so often this shape? I'm looking
for a more round one . . ."
"This?" Utena happened to glimpse a pendant of a different shape. "It's not a
locket though . . ." She said while trying to pull it apart.
Ruka took it from her and tilted his head to one side. "This might do . . . it
doesn't have to be a real locket." Snapping it into his fist, Ruka nodded.
"Thanks, Utena."
"Bring it back when . . ." But Utena stopped mid-sentence, the cryptic man had
slipped out of hearing range, half closing the door behind him. "That's strange.
Wonder what he's plotting . . ." And in a manner completely her own, she
dismissed the thought in the same instant to begin sorting her wayward props.
Tedium is overcome
From obscurity, through melody
And when I'm blind it helps me
See through your key
From the back of the auditorium, Mikage Souji stood in the shadows. He wasn't
wearing all black like the Road Rage stage manager, but he managed to
disappear into the darkness just as well. The show was running well, the
opening scene had immediately set the audience up for an evening of
enthusiastic entertainment as Sano nearly flawlessly ad-libbed his way through a
difficult scene when Faye experienced her first bout of stage fright.
But the unconditional trust between the siblings had made the scene perhaps
more amusing than originally rehearsed, and since it was a new play—no one
really could know the difference. He wondered, fleetingly, about the affection
between siblings.
A small rustle, a murmur and then the crowd of special guests and critical
reviewers followed the closed curtain with polite, friendly applause. Mikage
ducked into the foyer and followed the outward hallways back stage. The
shadows of the long hall merged into a deep black, but when Mikage pushed
through the final door—his eyes narrowed, adjusting to the sudden sparkle of
stagelights. Various members of Utena's team were scuttling about. Above the
crowd, he spotted Sano—almost head and shoulders above the others. Directing
traffic, Utena paused a moment to consult with Saitou—who wore his
traditionally stern and set expression, but his eyes sparkled.
Climbing the narrow spiral stair, Mikage crossed the catwalk to restore order to
the sound booth. The final scene was ominously and continuously lit, allowing
the lights director to meander about. Not that Saitou would be very pleased if he
ever noticed that the control room was sometimes abandoned during the show.
Or maybe it hadn't been. Mikage's step drew short before he opened the door of
the elevated surveillance room. It wasn't closed. Leaning back, Mikage was
hidden by the dark, but the voices were still plain.
"No, I'm not very surprised to find you here." It was Ruka, while his words
were clipped, his voice was steady if overly-controlled. "Brings back a lot of
memories, actually."
"Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others. Once again, you've succeeded
beyond your wildest expectations."
"'Never to Close' . . . a perfect title, for us. No, Shiori? We'll never have what
we want."
"No? I'm quite happy. Here with you . . . all. This is all I've ever wanted."
"To observe? . . . why do I get the feeling that you're more than ready to
participate this time?"
"All I've wanted to do is appreciate true art, Ruka."
"And this? You haven't brought this into it again, have you?"
"I have no idea . . ."
"No? Giving until you're uncomfortable, and then taking it all back?"
"Let's not talk about this here, now. You forget yourself."
With those words, Shiori slipped out, brushing past Mikage but hardly
recognizing him as anything but another intrusion of the metal structure. Even
in the silhouette of the glowing light from below, her back was straight and tall.
Expressionless, Mikage entered the narrow control center and passed by Ruka
who stood in his checkered suit, head down, fists closed.
"Hey, Mikage."
The quiet man glanced back from where he'd started to put everything back to
first mark for the next evening's show.
"What am I going to do?"
Mikage's eyes studied Ruka for a moment then replied simply, "You will do
what you have to."
No one can touch, no need to rush
Presented by my alibi
When I'm down it brings me round
So easily
"Ah, there you are!" Faye pulled Shiori prematurely from the iron staircase and
swung her around. "I looked for you everywhere during curtain call, but it was
so crowded. I've got to find Mr. Times. Can you believe that I don't know his
name yet? But I'm certain I can spot him from a crowd . . ." Faye paused from
urging Shiori forward, and her eyebrows lowered, puzzled.
Glancing over her shoulder, Shiori saw Ruka come down the stairs without even
giving them a glance. Their eyes met again, Faye's asking a dozen questions.
Neither of the spoke, as Sano plucked his sister up from behind and into a wild
swing and a whoop of merriment that Faye could not ignore for all her exuberant
energy left over from the show.
Then Spike and Juri were there, trying to maintain their more solemn
dispositions while ridiculously happy grins smeared their faces. Juri's smile
loosened a moment, "Congratulations Shiori, good work."
"And you'll get to do it again tomorrow and again Friday and twice on Saturday
. . ." Spike congratulated.
"Time to meet the invited press in the main practice room." Saitou walked
through their festivities and everyone instinctively paused to regard him.
"Himura is with them already, and I need to go temper his playwright
disposition. Spiegel, Sagara—put those bottles down. We need *sober*
representatives from the cast."
"Invited press," Faye mused, "What about the uninvited press?"
Saitou sneered, "They'll be there as well . . . only a tad more dangerous. Leave
them to me."
"Yes, sir." Faye chuckled, "I, uh, don't suppose I could come with . . ."
"Interested in a private interview?" Saitou asked, without changing his
expression to recognize Faye's dismayed look, "Don't worry. Your brother has
filled us all in."
"What?" Faye pleaded, following Saitou's already disappearing form, "What's
that supposed to mean?" Her last words a pitch more desperate. "Do I get to
come with?"
"Let them be all business like . . . we've got the reservations at International
Velvet lined up. Celebration central." It was Utena steering them toward the
stage. "But pick up your props first—or you'll go prop-less next time!"
"I guess we'll catch up with you—we've got press to please. C'mon, Sagara."
Spike stuffed his hands into the pockets of his costume and made his way
toward the practice room.
"Would you like to go together?" Juri glanced over at Ruka, who had remained
absent from the conversation.
Ruka respected her request. Nothing was to be taken for granted. His answer
was just as hesitant and reverential--through the politeness, something had
changed.
Could he forget, for one night?
At eight o'clock I take my leave
And when I'm done and dusted
Tonight I'm going to be . . .
International Velvet was classy and dark enough for a couple to hide away. But
that evening, Juri sat with the others at a handful of round tables nearest the
stage. A slim man with slick dark hair coaxed melody from his saxophone. She
sipped a coke, wanting to be alert, but the general atmosphere of the
establishment and the adrenalin fueled energy of her companions were waxing
away at her enthusiasm.
Why did life have to feel so . . . normal?
Ruka made some comment and the others laughed politely.
Why did love have to be so quaint? Unnecessary.
His eyes were bright with whatever witticism made them smile. And his smile,
it had a way of seeming part sneer, part hopeful. All too human.
So on and off?
Shiori, in her seat across the way, seemed just as distanced from the others.
Only she'd let her lips curl occasionally, and answer appropriately when spoken
to. She let her wrist move the liquid of the drink dangerously near the brim of
her glass. She leaned over to say something closer to Utena who was trying to
build something out of the straw wrappers.
"Here we are!" Faye stumbled into the table, sober. Definitely sober, except for
the amused looking shadow that had found something interesting enough to
follow. That man must have been the journalist Sanosuke had invited to the
opening performance.
"Good showing tonight." The dark stranger nodded, leaving his hand in his coat
pocket, obviously deciding that there were too many people to justify reaching
across the table.
"Gosh, do I need a smoke!" Faye admitted, pulling out her lighter. "Oh gosh,
you don't mind do you?" She turned to look at the foreign looking man,
something about his eyes told about an Asian heritage.
"No, Faye." He was surprisingly calm, but easy going in his cool intrigue.
"Thanks." Faye took a long drag and claimed a seat. The reporter took the seat
next to her comfortable in his anonymity. Faye sat up straighter and laughed,
"Sorry, sorry. I'm so excited still. Everyone, this is Shin . . . uh, Shin what?"
"Alexander Edinburgh . . . is my given name, actually." The man leaned
forward and took an unclaimed glass of water. "Shin is my Japanese name . . . it
caught on fast in college and stuck."
"Edinburgh?" Faye lifted an eyebrow. "What a pen name . . ."
"What? Not enough seats for us?" Sano had made his way through the crowds,
his promised date in toe. Utena sprang up from her tentative Golden Gate
Bridge creation and greeted Misao eagerly. Spike and Saitou were with them,
obviously not chatting shop since Saitou had his wallet out and was showing
pictures.
"Family picture?" Ruka asked when the other men came closer.
"Pictures." Spike raised his eyebrows—emphasizing the "s." "Knew that
Kenshin Himura was a family man, but our Hajime Saitou?"
"You're married?" Faye leaned back in her chair, showing of her angular and
white neck. Flirtatious Faye was an amusing thing to watch.
"Why does everyone act so surprised?" Saitou took his wallet back from Spike
who had begun to riffle through the receipts and bills. "I trust the festivities
tonight will not keep anyone from being tip-top shape tomorrow night. Granted
it's another small audience, but it's the last show before Friday's opening night."
"Don't talk shop." Spike slapped the sturdy man's shoulder. "Talk family.
Where ever did you meet that classy dame?"
Juri stopped listening, to observe Faye leaning closer to Mr. Edinburgh. Shin
seemed amused, which was half the battle when it came to understanding Sano's
sister. But the expressions in their eyes left Juri unconvinced. What was it?
Affection? Mutual admiration? Unbridled passion? And how long would that
last?
Meanwhile, Sano had steered his companion toward the area that was being
cleared away by the growing number of dancers. International Velvet was a
tight-knit establishment. Comfortably cozy. The girl was chatting a mile a
minute, almost loud enough that Juri could make out a few words. She seemed
smitten with the young actor, who didn't mind the attention at all. But when
would Sano take another person's feelings seriously? He was too young, too
brash to commit.
"Dancing!" Faye smashed the remains of her cigarette into the middle of the
table, took a long drink, and pulled on Shin's sleeve. "Take off your coat,
buddy. Let's keep an eye on my brother." Shin's eyes opened wider, but he
smiled easily enough and let himself be led away.
"That seems like a good idea," Utena said and Ruka stood with her.
"Coming?" Ruka glanced down at Juri. Juri felt like doing anything except
dancing and shook her head quickly, foregoing all protests or argument.
"Mind if I borrow him then?" Utena smiled, the steady music fuelling her
enthusiasm. She linked elbows with Ruka and said something to make the taller
man laugh, his hair falling forward with the appearance of endless optimism.
That left Shiori. Although, Spike and Saitou were conversing about the benefits
of marriage over singleness. Juri fleetingly remembered her first romance with
the curly haired actor. Barely out of school, Spike had made her feel . . . but she
shook her head and drank deeply from the carbonated coke. It wasn't worth it.
Putting someone else first in her life and hoping, desperately hoping, that he'd
always return the same for her.
"Don't drink too deeply. You'll get lost in it." Shiori's voice broke the thought.
"It's coke."
"Does that make a difference?" Shiori was sitting back in her chair, either arm
resting against the length of the chair's wooden one, tucking her chin in and
watching Juri with harmless, lowered eyes.
"I'm appreciating the moment." Juri refused to give a point.
"Fine." Shiori leaned forward, putting an elbow on either side of her drink and
twirling the straw through it. "I admire that, really. But it's not the moment
you're appreciating, Juri. I can see the past swimming through your eyes—
distorting the present."
Juri didn't comment.
"And why do I know, because the same thing . . ." She paused. "The same very
thing happens to me, most every day."
"And how do you keep that from happening?" Juri challenged, in a quiet voice.
"I ignore it." Shiori lifted her eyes from the glass, "Until it goes away."
"Does that work?" Juri wondered.
"Why don't we try it?"
I'll be a karaoke queen, it's not me you see
I'm gonna take you down to a place
I know you'd rather be
It's just a three minute song
It doesn't last very long
But it'll take you to a place I know you'd
rather be
"How can it still be so cold?!?" Juri felt exhilarated and scampered from the
street onto the opposite walkway. Her companion followed fast, and huddled
close as they waited for the next walk light to change.
"I'm completely numb." Shiori rubbed her mittens together and blew on them.
Her breath a thick white mist. "I can't feel my toes anymore."
"Where are we going?" The taller woman asked, almost eagerly. After
sprinting down two city blocks against a wind chill threatening a clear night
below zero, Juri could scarcely breath, let alone dwell on the stuffy stress left
behind at the International Velvet. Where everything was so . . .
"I don't care. But I'm going to be a human popsicle if, oh, it's green now."
And with an animated squeal, Shiori pulled Juri across the road.
"Here," Shiori pointed to neon lights, "What's this?"
"Heck, I don't know. Ru-we always go to the Velvet, you know?" Juri tossed
her hair as the two women huddled and hurried toward the doors of the
establishment. "Karaoke Queen, huh? Can you sing?" She asked as they pulled
the door open and entered.
Hey you can dance
Oooh sha la la la
And melted. From her forehead to her ears to her lips to her toes, Juri felt as if
the iceblocks of her emotions were melting against the fiery heat of the karaoke
bar. She slipped the coat from her shoulders and felt as if she were shedding old
skin. Then there were Shiori's fingers between her own.
"Let's go."
Common sense has excuses
Recklessness, its uses
But don't go fusing silence with charisma
"Where is she?"
Sano spun his lithe partner one last time and stopped to acknowledge Ruka.
"Where is she, who?"
"Damn." Ruka ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the floor. "Juri,
Sano, Juri. She's left with that girl."
"Shiori?" Sano guessed rightly, knowing he was right when Ruka turned his
head away.
"I'm losing her. Losing, Sano." Ruka's voice was sharp. "But it's worse than
that. I have to let her go, I'd let her go . . . but I can't let . . ."
"Ruka . . ." Sano began, glancing over at Misao who had heard enough to nod
her agreement and walked toward Utena and the others. Reassured, Sano
squeezed Ruka's shoulder, getting an icy response and the other man looked up
with angry eyes. Wincing inwardly, Sano worked off his growing stress by
pushing back his unruly brown bangs. "What do you want to do?" Generously,
he offered, "Talk?"
"About what? About how I've tried protecting her from this before . . . and now
again, it's happening again. Quite like before. And again and again. And all I
want to do is make her happy."
"Sometimes you've got to let them go . . . I couldn't have Julia so I'm trying out
other fish, like Misao here—and we've got a bit more in common and . . ." Sano
stuttered, "I'm not being helpful, am I?"
"Not really." Ruka's eyes crinkled in mirthful distress. "I'm almost past the
point of being concerned about myself . . . it's just hard to watch a friend . . . a
friend . . ."
"Man," Sano leapt at his chance to say something helpful, "If any of us have
made a dent in, been a friend to Juri Arisugawa . . . it was you. Quite honestly, I
think you're the only person she respects—even if she distrusts you with her
feelings."
"Respects?" Ruka sighed. "My respect is too tangled up in my feelings. Or
rather, my feelings are dictated by who I respect."
"I guess that leaves me out . . . wanna talk to Saitou? Or Utena, rather?" Sano
shrugged, but grinning hopeful that he was doing his part well enough.
"Not so sure of your lines without a script there, rooster head?" Ruka said
affectionately picking up Sano's nickname. "Me either. Me either."
"Soooo, what are you going to do?"
Ruka shrugged, "Wait? What else can I do?"
At nine o'clock you can count on me
And when I'm up I'm ready
Tonight I'm going to be
Singing together, drinking together, that had worked a little more smoothly than
the dancing. At first the touches seemed accidental, then Juri began to suspect
they were more coy. So she'd pull away, moving away one arm, then her waist.
She wanted to forget, forget what it felt like to be touched.
At the same time . . .
Then there were fingers from behind, placed over her eyes. Slim, little fingers
that didn't block her sight, because Juri had closed her eyes long before. "Guess
who?" Came Shiori's voice. "It's not what you think it is. Or maybe it is." Her
words came closer and quieter, just barely heard above the off-key singers. "But
is that such a bad thing? Just to explore? For a little bit."
Juri's breath caught as Shiori's fingers slid down her face, along her shoulders,
between her arms and around. Lacing around her belly, holding a bit too close.
"I'm not free." Juri whispered.
"What?" Shiori comforted, leaning in. "Ruka knows. He knows and he can't
really do anything about our feelings. Don't let him hold you captive."
"No." Juri complained a little more strongly. "I'm not free. Not with him." She
pulled away. "Not with you." Shiori might have been the only other person in
the bar. "Not with you either."
"Juri . . ." Shiori's confidence evaporating from her tone. "Juri?"
"I want, I want to forget. But I don't think that's going to happen." Juri tossed
her hair. "I'm going to think about this. A little more." She held out a hand to
hold Shiori back. "On my own." Juri's mouth softened. "Otherwise, I don't
know what might have happened . . . tonight."
I'm doomed to fail
The stage gives way
It's an apostrophe to my legacy
But though I'm bruised
I'll happily to it all again
It was too cold to walk the streets like Juri had hoped. It had sounded somewhat
romantic before she'd passed the third street sign and started heading back
toward the theater when her nose felt like it had frozen off. Fortunately, she
didn't feel like tears which would have certainly felt like icicles in the evening
weather.
She was a little uneasy, but no longer sad. It was too late for things to go back
to the way they were before. Before Shiori, before the fascinating thrill . . .
undeniable. But it was too late, there were things behind that smile Juri couldn't
trust. Ruka had been straightforward. Both about his affection and his
disapproval.
Juri wasn't ready to bend to his wishes this time.
However, she wasn't ready to gamble either. Being given shady, sweet love
would be wasteful. And Shiori deserved better than being used by Juri's hot and
cold needs . . . even if Shiori thought she knew what that meant.
Juri wasn't ready to surrender her mysterious will power.
Stepping up to the Road Rage, Juri felt the urge to yell. To scream with all of
her power. She harnessed the building threat until she'd walked through the
foyer, down the center aisle, up the side stairs and onto the stage. Juri glanced
around, taking in the empty seats—wine red, the tightly folded curtains on either
side, the dark control room above—hidden but seeing everything. Maybe next
time, she'd volunteer to help Utena. Give up acting for a little while. To rest
from pretending.
She took a deep breath, pulling in more oxygen than she thought she had ever
needed before.
At 10 o'clock don't wait up for me
Cos when I'm up I'm ready
Tonight I'm gonna be
Matthew!
"Matthew?"
Juri nearly stumbled from surprise. "Who?" She rasped, recovering from her
grand expulsion of air.
"You yelled, 'Matthew'."
Reclining in the corner was Mikage Souji.
"Matthew?" Juri paused, not intending to ever have to explain. She continued
to breathe heavily. "Matthew was . . . well. He was someone I thought was
special to me. The first one. You know how that first precious person can haunt
you forever . . ." Juri stood straighter and walked over to the omniscient
seeming technician.
"His name was Matthew?"
"Yeah," Juri sat down next to him, leaning against the wall, and letting her head
roll toward him. "Matthew. He . . ."
"Mamiya."
"Mamiya? Oh." Juri tucked her legs up close and affectionately added another,
"oh," this time one of understanding.
They shared the silence comfortably. Not touching. Not demanding.
"Really??" Juri broke the moment. "You?"
Tentatively, Mikage Souji chuckled.
And you can dance if you want to
Show appreciation
But step up to the mike for the full sensation
And you can dance
And you can dance
And you can dance
And you can ooh la la la ooh sha la la
And you can
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Buried under the confusion that I create—you might recognize a
name, a face or some lyric. Most likely because I've borrowed them for the
duration. Along with the confusion, you might notice a few liberties were taken
with continuity and genre. Most likely because this is a crossover of several
anime series all taking place in an alternate reality of my creating. Technically,
this is the fourth chapter of "Never to Close" the sequel to "Happy Now"—
altogether becoming the longest fanfic series I've ever written. I'll try my
hardest to wrap it up soon so it'll actually have an ending! Imagine that! Enjoy)
***
"Enough, enough, Faye! I can't hold any more." Utena tried to rest her chin on
top of the pile of loose clothing, parts of a tool kit, and a large box full of
artificial flowers.
Brushing her hands against each other with a satisfied sounding smack, Faye
rolled her shoulders back trying to set free a little tension. "Tonight's the night,
Utena! Tonight, you should be prepared to hold more roses than that small
bundle. Roses from my admirers!" Faye squealed gleefully, dancing around the
changing room with a little more enthusiasm that she really felt.
"It's only the pre-show performance . . ." Utena began, but Faye cut her off with
a look.
"Listen, Miss Stage-Manager." Faye took a few menacing steps toward the
slender girl, all dressed in black so she could slip through the shadows during
the show, "Tonight! Tonight, Faye Valentine makes her debut to the press."
The last word resounded toward the ceiling, but when it ended, Faye's look
changed and she put one hand on Utena's shoulder, jostling the bundle she held
precariously. "I'm as scared as all get out! Pray for me. I'm going to be awful .
. ."
"Now, you'll be just . . ." Utena knew she should be consoling and
understanding, but the limb of a broken chair was uncomfortable stabbing into
her stomach.
"Just awful!" Faye swooned dramatically, one thin arm blocking her eyes.
"It's not as if your role is that important . . . " Utena was suddenly inspired, "I'm
sure the man from the Times won't even notice you . . ."
Faye didn't move for a full ten seconds. "What did you say?"
With an amused laugh, Utena spun around and bolted from the room, still
holding the odds and ends as best she could. The prop room was a disaster area,
no matter her careful planning and stern scoldings through the last weeks of
rehersal. The home stretch was wearing everyone thin, even Utena found her
patience being severely tested.
"Ruka!" Utena greeted, as she promptly deposited her armful onto the center
table for sorting. "Are you missing something?"
The actor was leaning against the wall looking intently through a collection of
stage jewelry with his free arm. Without looking up, he answered, "I'm looking
for some sort of locket. Anything about this big," He demonstrated with his
fingers.
"What for?" Utena stepped behind him, peering into the box and letting her
right hand shift a few classic looking broaches. "If you're looking for something
for Juri—try the jewelry store."
"That's not . . ." Ruka let a heart-shaped locket dangle inches from his face, then
curling his lip he murmured, "Why are lockets so often this shape? I'm looking
for a more round one . . ."
"This?" Utena happened to glimpse a pendant of a different shape. "It's not a
locket though . . ." She said while trying to pull it apart.
Ruka took it from her and tilted his head to one side. "This might do . . . it
doesn't have to be a real locket." Snapping it into his fist, Ruka nodded.
"Thanks, Utena."
"Bring it back when . . ." But Utena stopped mid-sentence, the cryptic man had
slipped out of hearing range, half closing the door behind him. "That's strange.
Wonder what he's plotting . . ." And in a manner completely her own, she
dismissed the thought in the same instant to begin sorting her wayward props.
Tedium is overcome
From obscurity, through melody
And when I'm blind it helps me
See through your key
From the back of the auditorium, Mikage Souji stood in the shadows. He wasn't
wearing all black like the Road Rage stage manager, but he managed to
disappear into the darkness just as well. The show was running well, the
opening scene had immediately set the audience up for an evening of
enthusiastic entertainment as Sano nearly flawlessly ad-libbed his way through a
difficult scene when Faye experienced her first bout of stage fright.
But the unconditional trust between the siblings had made the scene perhaps
more amusing than originally rehearsed, and since it was a new play—no one
really could know the difference. He wondered, fleetingly, about the affection
between siblings.
A small rustle, a murmur and then the crowd of special guests and critical
reviewers followed the closed curtain with polite, friendly applause. Mikage
ducked into the foyer and followed the outward hallways back stage. The
shadows of the long hall merged into a deep black, but when Mikage pushed
through the final door—his eyes narrowed, adjusting to the sudden sparkle of
stagelights. Various members of Utena's team were scuttling about. Above the
crowd, he spotted Sano—almost head and shoulders above the others. Directing
traffic, Utena paused a moment to consult with Saitou—who wore his
traditionally stern and set expression, but his eyes sparkled.
Climbing the narrow spiral stair, Mikage crossed the catwalk to restore order to
the sound booth. The final scene was ominously and continuously lit, allowing
the lights director to meander about. Not that Saitou would be very pleased if he
ever noticed that the control room was sometimes abandoned during the show.
Or maybe it hadn't been. Mikage's step drew short before he opened the door of
the elevated surveillance room. It wasn't closed. Leaning back, Mikage was
hidden by the dark, but the voices were still plain.
"No, I'm not very surprised to find you here." It was Ruka, while his words
were clipped, his voice was steady if overly-controlled. "Brings back a lot of
memories, actually."
"Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others. Once again, you've succeeded
beyond your wildest expectations."
"'Never to Close' . . . a perfect title, for us. No, Shiori? We'll never have what
we want."
"No? I'm quite happy. Here with you . . . all. This is all I've ever wanted."
"To observe? . . . why do I get the feeling that you're more than ready to
participate this time?"
"All I've wanted to do is appreciate true art, Ruka."
"And this? You haven't brought this into it again, have you?"
"I have no idea . . ."
"No? Giving until you're uncomfortable, and then taking it all back?"
"Let's not talk about this here, now. You forget yourself."
With those words, Shiori slipped out, brushing past Mikage but hardly
recognizing him as anything but another intrusion of the metal structure. Even
in the silhouette of the glowing light from below, her back was straight and tall.
Expressionless, Mikage entered the narrow control center and passed by Ruka
who stood in his checkered suit, head down, fists closed.
"Hey, Mikage."
The quiet man glanced back from where he'd started to put everything back to
first mark for the next evening's show.
"What am I going to do?"
Mikage's eyes studied Ruka for a moment then replied simply, "You will do
what you have to."
No one can touch, no need to rush
Presented by my alibi
When I'm down it brings me round
So easily
"Ah, there you are!" Faye pulled Shiori prematurely from the iron staircase and
swung her around. "I looked for you everywhere during curtain call, but it was
so crowded. I've got to find Mr. Times. Can you believe that I don't know his
name yet? But I'm certain I can spot him from a crowd . . ." Faye paused from
urging Shiori forward, and her eyebrows lowered, puzzled.
Glancing over her shoulder, Shiori saw Ruka come down the stairs without even
giving them a glance. Their eyes met again, Faye's asking a dozen questions.
Neither of the spoke, as Sano plucked his sister up from behind and into a wild
swing and a whoop of merriment that Faye could not ignore for all her exuberant
energy left over from the show.
Then Spike and Juri were there, trying to maintain their more solemn
dispositions while ridiculously happy grins smeared their faces. Juri's smile
loosened a moment, "Congratulations Shiori, good work."
"And you'll get to do it again tomorrow and again Friday and twice on Saturday
. . ." Spike congratulated.
"Time to meet the invited press in the main practice room." Saitou walked
through their festivities and everyone instinctively paused to regard him.
"Himura is with them already, and I need to go temper his playwright
disposition. Spiegel, Sagara—put those bottles down. We need *sober*
representatives from the cast."
"Invited press," Faye mused, "What about the uninvited press?"
Saitou sneered, "They'll be there as well . . . only a tad more dangerous. Leave
them to me."
"Yes, sir." Faye chuckled, "I, uh, don't suppose I could come with . . ."
"Interested in a private interview?" Saitou asked, without changing his
expression to recognize Faye's dismayed look, "Don't worry. Your brother has
filled us all in."
"What?" Faye pleaded, following Saitou's already disappearing form, "What's
that supposed to mean?" Her last words a pitch more desperate. "Do I get to
come with?"
"Let them be all business like . . . we've got the reservations at International
Velvet lined up. Celebration central." It was Utena steering them toward the
stage. "But pick up your props first—or you'll go prop-less next time!"
"I guess we'll catch up with you—we've got press to please. C'mon, Sagara."
Spike stuffed his hands into the pockets of his costume and made his way
toward the practice room.
"Would you like to go together?" Juri glanced over at Ruka, who had remained
absent from the conversation.
Ruka respected her request. Nothing was to be taken for granted. His answer
was just as hesitant and reverential--through the politeness, something had
changed.
Could he forget, for one night?
At eight o'clock I take my leave
And when I'm done and dusted
Tonight I'm going to be . . .
International Velvet was classy and dark enough for a couple to hide away. But
that evening, Juri sat with the others at a handful of round tables nearest the
stage. A slim man with slick dark hair coaxed melody from his saxophone. She
sipped a coke, wanting to be alert, but the general atmosphere of the
establishment and the adrenalin fueled energy of her companions were waxing
away at her enthusiasm.
Why did life have to feel so . . . normal?
Ruka made some comment and the others laughed politely.
Why did love have to be so quaint? Unnecessary.
His eyes were bright with whatever witticism made them smile. And his smile,
it had a way of seeming part sneer, part hopeful. All too human.
So on and off?
Shiori, in her seat across the way, seemed just as distanced from the others.
Only she'd let her lips curl occasionally, and answer appropriately when spoken
to. She let her wrist move the liquid of the drink dangerously near the brim of
her glass. She leaned over to say something closer to Utena who was trying to
build something out of the straw wrappers.
"Here we are!" Faye stumbled into the table, sober. Definitely sober, except for
the amused looking shadow that had found something interesting enough to
follow. That man must have been the journalist Sanosuke had invited to the
opening performance.
"Good showing tonight." The dark stranger nodded, leaving his hand in his coat
pocket, obviously deciding that there were too many people to justify reaching
across the table.
"Gosh, do I need a smoke!" Faye admitted, pulling out her lighter. "Oh gosh,
you don't mind do you?" She turned to look at the foreign looking man,
something about his eyes told about an Asian heritage.
"No, Faye." He was surprisingly calm, but easy going in his cool intrigue.
"Thanks." Faye took a long drag and claimed a seat. The reporter took the seat
next to her comfortable in his anonymity. Faye sat up straighter and laughed,
"Sorry, sorry. I'm so excited still. Everyone, this is Shin . . . uh, Shin what?"
"Alexander Edinburgh . . . is my given name, actually." The man leaned
forward and took an unclaimed glass of water. "Shin is my Japanese name . . . it
caught on fast in college and stuck."
"Edinburgh?" Faye lifted an eyebrow. "What a pen name . . ."
"What? Not enough seats for us?" Sano had made his way through the crowds,
his promised date in toe. Utena sprang up from her tentative Golden Gate
Bridge creation and greeted Misao eagerly. Spike and Saitou were with them,
obviously not chatting shop since Saitou had his wallet out and was showing
pictures.
"Family picture?" Ruka asked when the other men came closer.
"Pictures." Spike raised his eyebrows—emphasizing the "s." "Knew that
Kenshin Himura was a family man, but our Hajime Saitou?"
"You're married?" Faye leaned back in her chair, showing of her angular and
white neck. Flirtatious Faye was an amusing thing to watch.
"Why does everyone act so surprised?" Saitou took his wallet back from Spike
who had begun to riffle through the receipts and bills. "I trust the festivities
tonight will not keep anyone from being tip-top shape tomorrow night. Granted
it's another small audience, but it's the last show before Friday's opening night."
"Don't talk shop." Spike slapped the sturdy man's shoulder. "Talk family.
Where ever did you meet that classy dame?"
Juri stopped listening, to observe Faye leaning closer to Mr. Edinburgh. Shin
seemed amused, which was half the battle when it came to understanding Sano's
sister. But the expressions in their eyes left Juri unconvinced. What was it?
Affection? Mutual admiration? Unbridled passion? And how long would that
last?
Meanwhile, Sano had steered his companion toward the area that was being
cleared away by the growing number of dancers. International Velvet was a
tight-knit establishment. Comfortably cozy. The girl was chatting a mile a
minute, almost loud enough that Juri could make out a few words. She seemed
smitten with the young actor, who didn't mind the attention at all. But when
would Sano take another person's feelings seriously? He was too young, too
brash to commit.
"Dancing!" Faye smashed the remains of her cigarette into the middle of the
table, took a long drink, and pulled on Shin's sleeve. "Take off your coat,
buddy. Let's keep an eye on my brother." Shin's eyes opened wider, but he
smiled easily enough and let himself be led away.
"That seems like a good idea," Utena said and Ruka stood with her.
"Coming?" Ruka glanced down at Juri. Juri felt like doing anything except
dancing and shook her head quickly, foregoing all protests or argument.
"Mind if I borrow him then?" Utena smiled, the steady music fuelling her
enthusiasm. She linked elbows with Ruka and said something to make the taller
man laugh, his hair falling forward with the appearance of endless optimism.
That left Shiori. Although, Spike and Saitou were conversing about the benefits
of marriage over singleness. Juri fleetingly remembered her first romance with
the curly haired actor. Barely out of school, Spike had made her feel . . . but she
shook her head and drank deeply from the carbonated coke. It wasn't worth it.
Putting someone else first in her life and hoping, desperately hoping, that he'd
always return the same for her.
"Don't drink too deeply. You'll get lost in it." Shiori's voice broke the thought.
"It's coke."
"Does that make a difference?" Shiori was sitting back in her chair, either arm
resting against the length of the chair's wooden one, tucking her chin in and
watching Juri with harmless, lowered eyes.
"I'm appreciating the moment." Juri refused to give a point.
"Fine." Shiori leaned forward, putting an elbow on either side of her drink and
twirling the straw through it. "I admire that, really. But it's not the moment
you're appreciating, Juri. I can see the past swimming through your eyes—
distorting the present."
Juri didn't comment.
"And why do I know, because the same thing . . ." She paused. "The same very
thing happens to me, most every day."
"And how do you keep that from happening?" Juri challenged, in a quiet voice.
"I ignore it." Shiori lifted her eyes from the glass, "Until it goes away."
"Does that work?" Juri wondered.
"Why don't we try it?"
I'll be a karaoke queen, it's not me you see
I'm gonna take you down to a place
I know you'd rather be
It's just a three minute song
It doesn't last very long
But it'll take you to a place I know you'd
rather be
"How can it still be so cold?!?" Juri felt exhilarated and scampered from the
street onto the opposite walkway. Her companion followed fast, and huddled
close as they waited for the next walk light to change.
"I'm completely numb." Shiori rubbed her mittens together and blew on them.
Her breath a thick white mist. "I can't feel my toes anymore."
"Where are we going?" The taller woman asked, almost eagerly. After
sprinting down two city blocks against a wind chill threatening a clear night
below zero, Juri could scarcely breath, let alone dwell on the stuffy stress left
behind at the International Velvet. Where everything was so . . .
"I don't care. But I'm going to be a human popsicle if, oh, it's green now."
And with an animated squeal, Shiori pulled Juri across the road.
"Here," Shiori pointed to neon lights, "What's this?"
"Heck, I don't know. Ru-we always go to the Velvet, you know?" Juri tossed
her hair as the two women huddled and hurried toward the doors of the
establishment. "Karaoke Queen, huh? Can you sing?" She asked as they pulled
the door open and entered.
Hey you can dance
Oooh sha la la la
And melted. From her forehead to her ears to her lips to her toes, Juri felt as if
the iceblocks of her emotions were melting against the fiery heat of the karaoke
bar. She slipped the coat from her shoulders and felt as if she were shedding old
skin. Then there were Shiori's fingers between her own.
"Let's go."
Common sense has excuses
Recklessness, its uses
But don't go fusing silence with charisma
"Where is she?"
Sano spun his lithe partner one last time and stopped to acknowledge Ruka.
"Where is she, who?"
"Damn." Ruka ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the floor. "Juri,
Sano, Juri. She's left with that girl."
"Shiori?" Sano guessed rightly, knowing he was right when Ruka turned his
head away.
"I'm losing her. Losing, Sano." Ruka's voice was sharp. "But it's worse than
that. I have to let her go, I'd let her go . . . but I can't let . . ."
"Ruka . . ." Sano began, glancing over at Misao who had heard enough to nod
her agreement and walked toward Utena and the others. Reassured, Sano
squeezed Ruka's shoulder, getting an icy response and the other man looked up
with angry eyes. Wincing inwardly, Sano worked off his growing stress by
pushing back his unruly brown bangs. "What do you want to do?" Generously,
he offered, "Talk?"
"About what? About how I've tried protecting her from this before . . . and now
again, it's happening again. Quite like before. And again and again. And all I
want to do is make her happy."
"Sometimes you've got to let them go . . . I couldn't have Julia so I'm trying out
other fish, like Misao here—and we've got a bit more in common and . . ." Sano
stuttered, "I'm not being helpful, am I?"
"Not really." Ruka's eyes crinkled in mirthful distress. "I'm almost past the
point of being concerned about myself . . . it's just hard to watch a friend . . . a
friend . . ."
"Man," Sano leapt at his chance to say something helpful, "If any of us have
made a dent in, been a friend to Juri Arisugawa . . . it was you. Quite honestly, I
think you're the only person she respects—even if she distrusts you with her
feelings."
"Respects?" Ruka sighed. "My respect is too tangled up in my feelings. Or
rather, my feelings are dictated by who I respect."
"I guess that leaves me out . . . wanna talk to Saitou? Or Utena, rather?" Sano
shrugged, but grinning hopeful that he was doing his part well enough.
"Not so sure of your lines without a script there, rooster head?" Ruka said
affectionately picking up Sano's nickname. "Me either. Me either."
"Soooo, what are you going to do?"
Ruka shrugged, "Wait? What else can I do?"
At nine o'clock you can count on me
And when I'm up I'm ready
Tonight I'm going to be
Singing together, drinking together, that had worked a little more smoothly than
the dancing. At first the touches seemed accidental, then Juri began to suspect
they were more coy. So she'd pull away, moving away one arm, then her waist.
She wanted to forget, forget what it felt like to be touched.
At the same time . . .
Then there were fingers from behind, placed over her eyes. Slim, little fingers
that didn't block her sight, because Juri had closed her eyes long before. "Guess
who?" Came Shiori's voice. "It's not what you think it is. Or maybe it is." Her
words came closer and quieter, just barely heard above the off-key singers. "But
is that such a bad thing? Just to explore? For a little bit."
Juri's breath caught as Shiori's fingers slid down her face, along her shoulders,
between her arms and around. Lacing around her belly, holding a bit too close.
"I'm not free." Juri whispered.
"What?" Shiori comforted, leaning in. "Ruka knows. He knows and he can't
really do anything about our feelings. Don't let him hold you captive."
"No." Juri complained a little more strongly. "I'm not free. Not with him." She
pulled away. "Not with you." Shiori might have been the only other person in
the bar. "Not with you either."
"Juri . . ." Shiori's confidence evaporating from her tone. "Juri?"
"I want, I want to forget. But I don't think that's going to happen." Juri tossed
her hair. "I'm going to think about this. A little more." She held out a hand to
hold Shiori back. "On my own." Juri's mouth softened. "Otherwise, I don't
know what might have happened . . . tonight."
I'm doomed to fail
The stage gives way
It's an apostrophe to my legacy
But though I'm bruised
I'll happily to it all again
It was too cold to walk the streets like Juri had hoped. It had sounded somewhat
romantic before she'd passed the third street sign and started heading back
toward the theater when her nose felt like it had frozen off. Fortunately, she
didn't feel like tears which would have certainly felt like icicles in the evening
weather.
She was a little uneasy, but no longer sad. It was too late for things to go back
to the way they were before. Before Shiori, before the fascinating thrill . . .
undeniable. But it was too late, there were things behind that smile Juri couldn't
trust. Ruka had been straightforward. Both about his affection and his
disapproval.
Juri wasn't ready to bend to his wishes this time.
However, she wasn't ready to gamble either. Being given shady, sweet love
would be wasteful. And Shiori deserved better than being used by Juri's hot and
cold needs . . . even if Shiori thought she knew what that meant.
Juri wasn't ready to surrender her mysterious will power.
Stepping up to the Road Rage, Juri felt the urge to yell. To scream with all of
her power. She harnessed the building threat until she'd walked through the
foyer, down the center aisle, up the side stairs and onto the stage. Juri glanced
around, taking in the empty seats—wine red, the tightly folded curtains on either
side, the dark control room above—hidden but seeing everything. Maybe next
time, she'd volunteer to help Utena. Give up acting for a little while. To rest
from pretending.
She took a deep breath, pulling in more oxygen than she thought she had ever
needed before.
At 10 o'clock don't wait up for me
Cos when I'm up I'm ready
Tonight I'm gonna be
Matthew!
"Matthew?"
Juri nearly stumbled from surprise. "Who?" She rasped, recovering from her
grand expulsion of air.
"You yelled, 'Matthew'."
Reclining in the corner was Mikage Souji.
"Matthew?" Juri paused, not intending to ever have to explain. She continued
to breathe heavily. "Matthew was . . . well. He was someone I thought was
special to me. The first one. You know how that first precious person can haunt
you forever . . ." Juri stood straighter and walked over to the omniscient
seeming technician.
"His name was Matthew?"
"Yeah," Juri sat down next to him, leaning against the wall, and letting her head
roll toward him. "Matthew. He . . ."
"Mamiya."
"Mamiya? Oh." Juri tucked her legs up close and affectionately added another,
"oh," this time one of understanding.
They shared the silence comfortably. Not touching. Not demanding.
"Really??" Juri broke the moment. "You?"
Tentatively, Mikage Souji chuckled.
And you can dance if you want to
Show appreciation
But step up to the mike for the full sensation
And you can dance
And you can dance
And you can dance
And you can ooh la la la ooh sha la la
And you can