Never Comes the Day
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Oh golly, is this really part 10 of my alternate reality crossover
anime fanfic? It's amazing what will spark your interest . . . even more amazing
when it actually lingers. Characters from Utena, Rurouni Kenshin, Cowboy
Bebop and Gundam Wing originally caught my attention, then that developed
around the splendid lyrics of Catatonia—never mind that they split up, I'm still
in mourning! In an effort to consol myself, I seem to have challenged myself to
write a fanfic inspired by each of their songs . . . we'll, uh, see how that goes. In
the meantime, I found a translation of their song Gyda Gwen to use. This is
actually a small tangent off the ongoing story—to flesh out a bit of unexplored
details—or generate more questions, which makes it seem appropriate to use a
song that needs translation. Argh!)
original Gyda Gwên Lyrics
Gyda gwên, o glust i glust, fe oedd y cyntaf i basio'r pyst,
Mi roedd yn hawdd, ond hollol naturiol
Roedd rhai yn ei alw o'n ffôl, ond doedd ysteried byth yn dal o nol,
Nid du a gwyn, ond hollol lliwgar
Ond o, mae'n ddrwg gen i, wnest ti ddim ei weld o.
A, mae'n chwith gen i, nath o ddim rhagweled o
I deimlo'i hyn yn noeth, ymlith llif o syniadau doeth,
Roedd rhaid fo fod, yn unigolyn
Diddanwch mewn pell del oer
Yn ei fywyd, di ffrwyth, ddi glôd,
Mi awn fel hyw, heb unrhyw ysteried
Ond o, mae'n ddrwg gen i, nis ti ddim ei weld o.
A, mae'n chwith gen i, nath o ddim rhagweled o.
"I swear, this place is haunted." Faye "Valentine" Sagara frowned, casting her
eyes toward the ceiling nervously as she noticed how the light reflected off her
keys to dance about the evening's shadows. She tucked her short black hair
behind each ear, deliberately listening for any sounds apart of the usual. The
evening's rehearsal had completed over an hour ago, but after shuffling the
actors home and waiting for Utena to finish with the days work in the costume
shop—Faye was beginning to regret the power of having a key to the main door
of the Road Rage. Typically, the stage manager would lock up the theater like a
fortress, but Faye had to finish scheduling for the next weeks rehearsals. And
the young woman was much better at procrastinating rather than productivity.
After cursing Saitou for neglecting her free spirit and supposedly tapping into
her administrative talents, Faye had finished her work—not wanting to take it
home with her.
As she locked the front door, intending to slip out the alley exit closest to her
car, an inexcusable noise echoed from the main auditorium. "What the heck,"
Faye muttered, tip-toeing to the main doors facing the stage. It was almost like
footsteps, accompanied by the low murmur of voices. "Hello?" Faye called,
"I'm locking up." Her presence seemed to halt the noises. "Who's still here?"
Her grip on the door tightened as she peered into the theater—a few emergency
exit lights to which she could adjust her vision.
After a few moments silence, which could have been mere seconds but seemed
to Faye like enough time for anyone to identify themselves, she allowed the door
to come closed and walked down the side hallway back to the alley exit. She
shrugged off the discontent of leaving the mysterious noises unsolved, guessing
that the radiator might have been clicking or that the building was sinking it's
annual two inches as rumor had it.
She locked the heavy back door and passing through the alley finding the lot
where her car was waiting. Two spaces down was a small black vehicle, a
sporty model so new that Faye wasn't certain that she recognized it. On second
glance, it was noticeably foreign, even the steering wheel was on the opposite
side. Filtering through her mental check list, Faye rejected the obvious options.
Saitou was attached to his Intrepid, and Utena would only drive a Honda. Spike
was still driving his clunky '53 Mustang, spending most of his time searching for
spare parts. Trowa had his blue Chevy truck and Dorothy would never drive
anything that wasn't yellow. The list was becoming quite short. Peering into the
backseat she tried to make out the names on the papers scattered in the backseat.
Blueprints and extension cords.
Mikage Souji. Faye snapped her finger and grinned with no small triumph.
Still, in a moment, she was puzzled again.
"What a car. That bloke is full of surprises."
With a smile, from ear to ear, he was first to pass the posts
It was easy, but completely natural
Some called him foolish, but thinking never held him back
Not black or white, but completely colourful
Walking past the display tables of kitchen place mats and glass cases of ceramic
dragons, Faye leaned her head against Shin's shoulder, her arms intertwined with
his own—his elbow crooked, his hand balanced in the jeans' pocket. They'd
been wandering the mall for some time, under the illusion of finding Shin
another dark leather jacket, but mostly appreciating each other's presence.
"So did you like the variety of a personality piece?" Faye asked, smoothing the
folds of his shirt.
"It was mostly filler," Shin admitted. "No one is really going to be concerned
about candidates until we're closer to election season. It's amusing to listen to
them practice their campaign pitches however." He chuckled lightly, a deep
vibration that Faye could almost feel. "Especially when they still sound like an
awful recording—or a telemarketer that can't get away from reading the script."
"Oh, I hate that." Faye agreed, more impressed by how easily they now could
walk together without jostling hips or stepping on stray feet.
"I'm still trying to convince my editor I should be writing for the entertainment
page. I think that the Road Rage has more personality than our current
politicians—at least for the summer." Shin paused to glance into the local
Gloria Jean's. "Coffee?" He asked.
"I'm feeling lazy," Faye nodded into his shoulder, "That might help. We've got
a couple hours before this place closes . . . we can still look for . . ."
"Nevermind that," said Shin, "As I was saying, if I can get another piece on the
Road Rage, I could come to the theater more often, obviously . . ."
Faye suddenly noticed how hard he was trying, and picked up her head to smile
obligingly. "That would be nice, sweetie." She scanned the options and settled
on a latte. "I'd say the first character you should investigate is our technician.
I'd swear he sleeps in the theater, but he has the killer car from who knows
where. I'm guessing it's been imported."
Shin raised his eyebrow, handing the cashier a twenty. "Rags to riches?"
"No," Faye shrugged, uncertain, "Perhaps more riches to rags. But he can't be
that simple. I don't think he says more than two words to anyone. Except Juri,
I'd guess. I've seen them with their heads together—well, maybe not that close.
But certainly closer than anyone else."
"Juri? I remember Julia saying--is she the one that Spike used to . . ."
"Live with?" Faye finished, unhooking herself from Shin's arm and settling into
a nearby chair. "Bingo. But she's been seeing Ruka more recently. Not that
she's seeing him anymore either." Faye sipped her drink thoughtfully, curling
her toes and leaning toward her companion as if he were a magnet.
"What's his name?"
"Mikage Souji."
And oh, I'm sorry, that you didn't see him.
And, I'm sorry, that you didn't foresee it.
"Unusual?" Utena repeated, poking herself with a needle and bringing her
finger to her mouth while she looked thoughtful and a little bit pained. "Not
really, he tends to stay here odd hours—coming in during the late afternoon.
Saitou gave him a key, obviously."
Faye half expected the question, 'Why do you ask?' but it never came. On the
other hand, Utena was terribly convenient like that, always accepting another
person's conversation without any suspicions or expectations. Utena focused
most of her attention on whatever it was she was doing at that particular
moment. Which also made gathering information from the stage manager quite
difficult, one could never be subtle and generally had to ask questions point
blank until the daydreamer understood.
"I saw Mikage's car when I left yesterday. Have you seen it?"
"He must be working late again." Utena grinned, then turned back to her work.
"I need to get some more help back here in costuming." The slim girl told
herself.
Faye blinked a few times, realizing that she'd essentially gotten nowhere.
Standing up straighter, she wondered how Shin was able to interview people so
thoroughly, but then again, she doubted that he'd interviewed as many people
difficult in the same way as Utena.
Time was against her, and Faye hurried back to the auditorium to cover her
scenes. She particularly dreaded working with the afternoon cast. Dorothy
Catalonia always asked what she might improve on with a slight air of challenge
which Faye had yet to find a balance to. And getting Sanosuke to listen was as
difficult as asking him to get off the telephone when they'd been children. He'd
always liked interrupting his sister whenever he could—obviously with age he
still lacked maturity. The only non-threatening aspect was Trowa Barton, who
clammed up so tight between scenes that he seemed to have no opinions
whatsoever. Which managed to annoy her as well.
"Alright." Faye approached the stage with suddenly tapped aggression, even
Sano paused what he was doing. "I want everyone to run through the scene as
we practiced yesterday, only this time I want to practice communication without
intelligible words. So, Dorothy—all you can say is 'banana,' Trowa says
'grapefruit' and Sano will say 'marmalade.' Concentrate on using your bodies
and stressed syllables alone to communicate the ideas of your text." Faye took a
deep breath, which no one interrupted. "Once you've got that down, we'll
emphasize the actual lines."
"MAR-malade." Sano wrinkled his nose.
"You've got it." Faye essentially ignored him, "I'll be back in a bit."
Flood of wise ideas.
He had to be, an individual
Entertainment in a cold, distant place
She climbed the iron staircase, tightly twisting on it's way up to the sound booth
where she expected to find the solitary technician. Working her way cautiously
toward the observation room, she squeaked with surprise, grasping the railing as
she nearly fell sideways.
Sitting in the way, legs crossed and a lap full of wires—Mikage Souji was
labeling each with particular care. He glanced up without moving his head at
all, studying her from under his brow. Solemn but eerily without emotion.
Neither surprise nor curiosity created by her presence.
Faye almost felt as if she were going to speak with Utena, however when she
opened her mouth, her eyes gradually became wider and her heart began to skip
beats. She didn't know what to say.
"Do you make it a habit to direct without interacting with your cast?"
It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her. She reran that
sentence through her thoughts several times before she could decipher that he
was speaking English. "I don't think directing is really my speed," Faye
answered. He was asking her questions? Of course, she realized she'd been
standing there for some time when he spoke again.
"Was acting?"
"Now there . . ." Faye reacted sharply, but again she was uncertain if he was
insulting her. His tone was so matter-of-fact and guileless. She wondered if he
were only asking. Wondered if he thought she could act. He was always
watching. Did he have a perspective to that observation? The possibilities
flooded her system and she found herself simply standing once again.
"You could always go back to stage crew." His fingers began to unravel the
wires, sorting them and then affixing each with its appropriate label. Faye
simply watched, her eyes lifting from the careful accuracy of his work to his
calm features, neither perplexed or comfortable with the task.
"I suppose . . ." Faye felt an obligation to keep her side of the conversation,
even if his ears seemed not to notice. "I suppose I simply want to be here, in the
theater, doing something . . . anything . . . useful." Her own words seemed as if
they came from an observer, a stranger. She almost felt as if she were standing
next to herself. Next, her neck beginning to warm, working it's way up to her
ears. Burning as she watched him tirelessly continue.
Almost anxious, she glanced down, to where she could almost make out the
shapes of her actors between the break in the curtain. Distantly she heard their
voices. And the echoes of footsteps. Everything seemed quite different from
that angle.
"You're a weird one, you know that?" Faye needed to escape and fired the
comment like a starting pistol.
As she fled down the stairs with a gradually calmer thudding, she began to
register the last look he'd given her—one with a touch of bewilderment. As if
whatever she'd said had almost offset whatever he'd been thinking at that
moment. She hurried across the backstage, turning to glance back when she got
to the break in the curtain. She could almost see him, still bent over his work.
Shin was right. The interesting characters were ghosts hidden in the corners of
the Road Rage.
In his fruitless, glory-less life
I'd go like this, without any thinking
"Why doesn't anyone ever invite Mikage to come with us?"
"What's that?" Spike's mouth hung open mid-chew. Julia reached over and
persuaded him to close it.
Faye balanced the fork between her fingers, a bit of lettuce and tomato balanced
on the tip. "I said . . ."
"I heard you." Spike sat back in his chair. Those nearest Faye watched her
waiting to hear more before speaking.
They'd gathered together after a Friday of practice to eat at one of the city's best
steak places. The old gang came complete with their new additions, even
though Dorothy and Nichol tended to stay at one end and Trowa only shared his
thoughts with Saitou and sometimes Utena.
"Perhaps he's a vegetarian." Shiori said, disinterested but unable to pry
conversation from Juri across from her.
"Do we know that?" Faye pressed.
"I don't think he'd want to be part of the crowd." Julia said her hesitance
betraying uncertainty even as Faye challenged the assumption with the same
question.
"I think he's quite comfortable in his anonymity." Juri spoke, and Faye was
decidedly interested in her comment. Of them all, Juri might know best. Their
eyes locked for a moment, Faye communicating her continuing interest with
ever muscle of her face. "I admire that." Juri finished simply.
"Ooo." Faye's resolve crumbled, "He's so mysterious, don't you think? He lets
nothing slip yet he makes me rethink everything he says. I can't help but wonder
if he's actually saying something else, y'know."
"If you ask me, you're thinking a bit too much there, sis," Sano shook his head
and redirected his attention back to Dorothy, attempting to charm his way into
her conversation.
"How'd you find him, Saitou?" Faye persisted, indignant after catapulting an
evil glare at her younger sibling.
"He came to us." Saitou chewed thoughtful. "He's good, efficient. You don't
ask a gentleman questions."
But oh, I'm sorry, that you didn't see him.
And, I'm sorry, that you didn't foresee it
"Later!" Julia waved, Spike pulling her eagerly one direction. The crowd was
thinning. Shiori was stubbornly trying to recruit volunteers to patronize the
International Velvet. And Faye felt as if her own reputation was being tarnished
when Sano declared he'd only attend if Dorothy were going.
"Count me out." Faye whined, hiding her eyes from the image of her drooling
brother. She stepped forward, with her other arm outstretched to guide her—
unwilling to accidentally see anything more of the unwanted situation. After
earning a few chuckle by groping over Saitou's shirt, Faye made her way to the
back lot where she'd left her car. She shivered, the distance hadn't seemed that
far or nearly as chilly when they'd set out for the restaurant.
With a deep intake of breath, Faye slowed—passing Mikage's car before she
could unlock her own. He had to be in the theater still. Her plan of action
unraveling, Faye could feel the clammy sweat cover her palms. Brushing them
off, she tossed her hair—to remind herself that she was a diva, an actress, and
desperately tried to persuade herself that she could be cool, collected and
confrontational. Her curiosity won out.
"Mikage?" Her voice rang through the theater. Bouncing off walls, getting lost
in the curtain, but she was certain that he had to have heard her. "Listen . . . I'm
the Nancy Drew type—can't sleep when I have a question unanswered." She
chuckled. "Not that I really know what the question is. Or if there's one
question. I can think of about a dozen trivial ones if you'd rather."
She climbed onto the stage and pulled back the curtain, looking up to where
she'd left him before. "You're absolutely fascinating, y'know. And my
boyfriend's inquiring mind has simply rubbed on me."
Step by step, she climbed that twisting stair and walked toward the sound room.
He wasn't on the walkway, but she could still imagine him calmly sorting.
Glancing up, she saw a beam of light through the darkened window.
"Mikage, we should hire you full time to simply haunt this place." Faye's voice
no louder than normal conversation, almost talking to herself. She wrapped her
fingers around the doorknob, needlessly since it was already open, she pushed.
The beam was from a single flashlight which had been balanced to display the
entire council so Mikage could test the switches. Still labeling purposes.
Smiling whimsically, Faye stepped back into the dark of the walkway.
Lingering just a moment longer to capture the picture in her mind. Mikage
Souji, still in his chair, light hair framing his shadowed features as he rested
against folded arms—fast asleep. No pretense in his weary expression.
Faye suddenly felt satisfied. He was human after all.
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Oh golly, is this really part 10 of my alternate reality crossover
anime fanfic? It's amazing what will spark your interest . . . even more amazing
when it actually lingers. Characters from Utena, Rurouni Kenshin, Cowboy
Bebop and Gundam Wing originally caught my attention, then that developed
around the splendid lyrics of Catatonia—never mind that they split up, I'm still
in mourning! In an effort to consol myself, I seem to have challenged myself to
write a fanfic inspired by each of their songs . . . we'll, uh, see how that goes. In
the meantime, I found a translation of their song Gyda Gwen to use. This is
actually a small tangent off the ongoing story—to flesh out a bit of unexplored
details—or generate more questions, which makes it seem appropriate to use a
song that needs translation. Argh!)
original Gyda Gwên Lyrics
Gyda gwên, o glust i glust, fe oedd y cyntaf i basio'r pyst,
Mi roedd yn hawdd, ond hollol naturiol
Roedd rhai yn ei alw o'n ffôl, ond doedd ysteried byth yn dal o nol,
Nid du a gwyn, ond hollol lliwgar
Ond o, mae'n ddrwg gen i, wnest ti ddim ei weld o.
A, mae'n chwith gen i, nath o ddim rhagweled o
I deimlo'i hyn yn noeth, ymlith llif o syniadau doeth,
Roedd rhaid fo fod, yn unigolyn
Diddanwch mewn pell del oer
Yn ei fywyd, di ffrwyth, ddi glôd,
Mi awn fel hyw, heb unrhyw ysteried
Ond o, mae'n ddrwg gen i, nis ti ddim ei weld o.
A, mae'n chwith gen i, nath o ddim rhagweled o.
"I swear, this place is haunted." Faye "Valentine" Sagara frowned, casting her
eyes toward the ceiling nervously as she noticed how the light reflected off her
keys to dance about the evening's shadows. She tucked her short black hair
behind each ear, deliberately listening for any sounds apart of the usual. The
evening's rehearsal had completed over an hour ago, but after shuffling the
actors home and waiting for Utena to finish with the days work in the costume
shop—Faye was beginning to regret the power of having a key to the main door
of the Road Rage. Typically, the stage manager would lock up the theater like a
fortress, but Faye had to finish scheduling for the next weeks rehearsals. And
the young woman was much better at procrastinating rather than productivity.
After cursing Saitou for neglecting her free spirit and supposedly tapping into
her administrative talents, Faye had finished her work—not wanting to take it
home with her.
As she locked the front door, intending to slip out the alley exit closest to her
car, an inexcusable noise echoed from the main auditorium. "What the heck,"
Faye muttered, tip-toeing to the main doors facing the stage. It was almost like
footsteps, accompanied by the low murmur of voices. "Hello?" Faye called,
"I'm locking up." Her presence seemed to halt the noises. "Who's still here?"
Her grip on the door tightened as she peered into the theater—a few emergency
exit lights to which she could adjust her vision.
After a few moments silence, which could have been mere seconds but seemed
to Faye like enough time for anyone to identify themselves, she allowed the door
to come closed and walked down the side hallway back to the alley exit. She
shrugged off the discontent of leaving the mysterious noises unsolved, guessing
that the radiator might have been clicking or that the building was sinking it's
annual two inches as rumor had it.
She locked the heavy back door and passing through the alley finding the lot
where her car was waiting. Two spaces down was a small black vehicle, a
sporty model so new that Faye wasn't certain that she recognized it. On second
glance, it was noticeably foreign, even the steering wheel was on the opposite
side. Filtering through her mental check list, Faye rejected the obvious options.
Saitou was attached to his Intrepid, and Utena would only drive a Honda. Spike
was still driving his clunky '53 Mustang, spending most of his time searching for
spare parts. Trowa had his blue Chevy truck and Dorothy would never drive
anything that wasn't yellow. The list was becoming quite short. Peering into the
backseat she tried to make out the names on the papers scattered in the backseat.
Blueprints and extension cords.
Mikage Souji. Faye snapped her finger and grinned with no small triumph.
Still, in a moment, she was puzzled again.
"What a car. That bloke is full of surprises."
With a smile, from ear to ear, he was first to pass the posts
It was easy, but completely natural
Some called him foolish, but thinking never held him back
Not black or white, but completely colourful
Walking past the display tables of kitchen place mats and glass cases of ceramic
dragons, Faye leaned her head against Shin's shoulder, her arms intertwined with
his own—his elbow crooked, his hand balanced in the jeans' pocket. They'd
been wandering the mall for some time, under the illusion of finding Shin
another dark leather jacket, but mostly appreciating each other's presence.
"So did you like the variety of a personality piece?" Faye asked, smoothing the
folds of his shirt.
"It was mostly filler," Shin admitted. "No one is really going to be concerned
about candidates until we're closer to election season. It's amusing to listen to
them practice their campaign pitches however." He chuckled lightly, a deep
vibration that Faye could almost feel. "Especially when they still sound like an
awful recording—or a telemarketer that can't get away from reading the script."
"Oh, I hate that." Faye agreed, more impressed by how easily they now could
walk together without jostling hips or stepping on stray feet.
"I'm still trying to convince my editor I should be writing for the entertainment
page. I think that the Road Rage has more personality than our current
politicians—at least for the summer." Shin paused to glance into the local
Gloria Jean's. "Coffee?" He asked.
"I'm feeling lazy," Faye nodded into his shoulder, "That might help. We've got
a couple hours before this place closes . . . we can still look for . . ."
"Nevermind that," said Shin, "As I was saying, if I can get another piece on the
Road Rage, I could come to the theater more often, obviously . . ."
Faye suddenly noticed how hard he was trying, and picked up her head to smile
obligingly. "That would be nice, sweetie." She scanned the options and settled
on a latte. "I'd say the first character you should investigate is our technician.
I'd swear he sleeps in the theater, but he has the killer car from who knows
where. I'm guessing it's been imported."
Shin raised his eyebrow, handing the cashier a twenty. "Rags to riches?"
"No," Faye shrugged, uncertain, "Perhaps more riches to rags. But he can't be
that simple. I don't think he says more than two words to anyone. Except Juri,
I'd guess. I've seen them with their heads together—well, maybe not that close.
But certainly closer than anyone else."
"Juri? I remember Julia saying--is she the one that Spike used to . . ."
"Live with?" Faye finished, unhooking herself from Shin's arm and settling into
a nearby chair. "Bingo. But she's been seeing Ruka more recently. Not that
she's seeing him anymore either." Faye sipped her drink thoughtfully, curling
her toes and leaning toward her companion as if he were a magnet.
"What's his name?"
"Mikage Souji."
And oh, I'm sorry, that you didn't see him.
And, I'm sorry, that you didn't foresee it.
"Unusual?" Utena repeated, poking herself with a needle and bringing her
finger to her mouth while she looked thoughtful and a little bit pained. "Not
really, he tends to stay here odd hours—coming in during the late afternoon.
Saitou gave him a key, obviously."
Faye half expected the question, 'Why do you ask?' but it never came. On the
other hand, Utena was terribly convenient like that, always accepting another
person's conversation without any suspicions or expectations. Utena focused
most of her attention on whatever it was she was doing at that particular
moment. Which also made gathering information from the stage manager quite
difficult, one could never be subtle and generally had to ask questions point
blank until the daydreamer understood.
"I saw Mikage's car when I left yesterday. Have you seen it?"
"He must be working late again." Utena grinned, then turned back to her work.
"I need to get some more help back here in costuming." The slim girl told
herself.
Faye blinked a few times, realizing that she'd essentially gotten nowhere.
Standing up straighter, she wondered how Shin was able to interview people so
thoroughly, but then again, she doubted that he'd interviewed as many people
difficult in the same way as Utena.
Time was against her, and Faye hurried back to the auditorium to cover her
scenes. She particularly dreaded working with the afternoon cast. Dorothy
Catalonia always asked what she might improve on with a slight air of challenge
which Faye had yet to find a balance to. And getting Sanosuke to listen was as
difficult as asking him to get off the telephone when they'd been children. He'd
always liked interrupting his sister whenever he could—obviously with age he
still lacked maturity. The only non-threatening aspect was Trowa Barton, who
clammed up so tight between scenes that he seemed to have no opinions
whatsoever. Which managed to annoy her as well.
"Alright." Faye approached the stage with suddenly tapped aggression, even
Sano paused what he was doing. "I want everyone to run through the scene as
we practiced yesterday, only this time I want to practice communication without
intelligible words. So, Dorothy—all you can say is 'banana,' Trowa says
'grapefruit' and Sano will say 'marmalade.' Concentrate on using your bodies
and stressed syllables alone to communicate the ideas of your text." Faye took a
deep breath, which no one interrupted. "Once you've got that down, we'll
emphasize the actual lines."
"MAR-malade." Sano wrinkled his nose.
"You've got it." Faye essentially ignored him, "I'll be back in a bit."
Flood of wise ideas.
He had to be, an individual
Entertainment in a cold, distant place
She climbed the iron staircase, tightly twisting on it's way up to the sound booth
where she expected to find the solitary technician. Working her way cautiously
toward the observation room, she squeaked with surprise, grasping the railing as
she nearly fell sideways.
Sitting in the way, legs crossed and a lap full of wires—Mikage Souji was
labeling each with particular care. He glanced up without moving his head at
all, studying her from under his brow. Solemn but eerily without emotion.
Neither surprise nor curiosity created by her presence.
Faye almost felt as if she were going to speak with Utena, however when she
opened her mouth, her eyes gradually became wider and her heart began to skip
beats. She didn't know what to say.
"Do you make it a habit to direct without interacting with your cast?"
It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her. She reran that
sentence through her thoughts several times before she could decipher that he
was speaking English. "I don't think directing is really my speed," Faye
answered. He was asking her questions? Of course, she realized she'd been
standing there for some time when he spoke again.
"Was acting?"
"Now there . . ." Faye reacted sharply, but again she was uncertain if he was
insulting her. His tone was so matter-of-fact and guileless. She wondered if he
were only asking. Wondered if he thought she could act. He was always
watching. Did he have a perspective to that observation? The possibilities
flooded her system and she found herself simply standing once again.
"You could always go back to stage crew." His fingers began to unravel the
wires, sorting them and then affixing each with its appropriate label. Faye
simply watched, her eyes lifting from the careful accuracy of his work to his
calm features, neither perplexed or comfortable with the task.
"I suppose . . ." Faye felt an obligation to keep her side of the conversation,
even if his ears seemed not to notice. "I suppose I simply want to be here, in the
theater, doing something . . . anything . . . useful." Her own words seemed as if
they came from an observer, a stranger. She almost felt as if she were standing
next to herself. Next, her neck beginning to warm, working it's way up to her
ears. Burning as she watched him tirelessly continue.
Almost anxious, she glanced down, to where she could almost make out the
shapes of her actors between the break in the curtain. Distantly she heard their
voices. And the echoes of footsteps. Everything seemed quite different from
that angle.
"You're a weird one, you know that?" Faye needed to escape and fired the
comment like a starting pistol.
As she fled down the stairs with a gradually calmer thudding, she began to
register the last look he'd given her—one with a touch of bewilderment. As if
whatever she'd said had almost offset whatever he'd been thinking at that
moment. She hurried across the backstage, turning to glance back when she got
to the break in the curtain. She could almost see him, still bent over his work.
Shin was right. The interesting characters were ghosts hidden in the corners of
the Road Rage.
In his fruitless, glory-less life
I'd go like this, without any thinking
"Why doesn't anyone ever invite Mikage to come with us?"
"What's that?" Spike's mouth hung open mid-chew. Julia reached over and
persuaded him to close it.
Faye balanced the fork between her fingers, a bit of lettuce and tomato balanced
on the tip. "I said . . ."
"I heard you." Spike sat back in his chair. Those nearest Faye watched her
waiting to hear more before speaking.
They'd gathered together after a Friday of practice to eat at one of the city's best
steak places. The old gang came complete with their new additions, even
though Dorothy and Nichol tended to stay at one end and Trowa only shared his
thoughts with Saitou and sometimes Utena.
"Perhaps he's a vegetarian." Shiori said, disinterested but unable to pry
conversation from Juri across from her.
"Do we know that?" Faye pressed.
"I don't think he'd want to be part of the crowd." Julia said her hesitance
betraying uncertainty even as Faye challenged the assumption with the same
question.
"I think he's quite comfortable in his anonymity." Juri spoke, and Faye was
decidedly interested in her comment. Of them all, Juri might know best. Their
eyes locked for a moment, Faye communicating her continuing interest with
ever muscle of her face. "I admire that." Juri finished simply.
"Ooo." Faye's resolve crumbled, "He's so mysterious, don't you think? He lets
nothing slip yet he makes me rethink everything he says. I can't help but wonder
if he's actually saying something else, y'know."
"If you ask me, you're thinking a bit too much there, sis," Sano shook his head
and redirected his attention back to Dorothy, attempting to charm his way into
her conversation.
"How'd you find him, Saitou?" Faye persisted, indignant after catapulting an
evil glare at her younger sibling.
"He came to us." Saitou chewed thoughtful. "He's good, efficient. You don't
ask a gentleman questions."
But oh, I'm sorry, that you didn't see him.
And, I'm sorry, that you didn't foresee it
"Later!" Julia waved, Spike pulling her eagerly one direction. The crowd was
thinning. Shiori was stubbornly trying to recruit volunteers to patronize the
International Velvet. And Faye felt as if her own reputation was being tarnished
when Sano declared he'd only attend if Dorothy were going.
"Count me out." Faye whined, hiding her eyes from the image of her drooling
brother. She stepped forward, with her other arm outstretched to guide her—
unwilling to accidentally see anything more of the unwanted situation. After
earning a few chuckle by groping over Saitou's shirt, Faye made her way to the
back lot where she'd left her car. She shivered, the distance hadn't seemed that
far or nearly as chilly when they'd set out for the restaurant.
With a deep intake of breath, Faye slowed—passing Mikage's car before she
could unlock her own. He had to be in the theater still. Her plan of action
unraveling, Faye could feel the clammy sweat cover her palms. Brushing them
off, she tossed her hair—to remind herself that she was a diva, an actress, and
desperately tried to persuade herself that she could be cool, collected and
confrontational. Her curiosity won out.
"Mikage?" Her voice rang through the theater. Bouncing off walls, getting lost
in the curtain, but she was certain that he had to have heard her. "Listen . . . I'm
the Nancy Drew type—can't sleep when I have a question unanswered." She
chuckled. "Not that I really know what the question is. Or if there's one
question. I can think of about a dozen trivial ones if you'd rather."
She climbed onto the stage and pulled back the curtain, looking up to where
she'd left him before. "You're absolutely fascinating, y'know. And my
boyfriend's inquiring mind has simply rubbed on me."
Step by step, she climbed that twisting stair and walked toward the sound room.
He wasn't on the walkway, but she could still imagine him calmly sorting.
Glancing up, she saw a beam of light through the darkened window.
"Mikage, we should hire you full time to simply haunt this place." Faye's voice
no louder than normal conversation, almost talking to herself. She wrapped her
fingers around the doorknob, needlessly since it was already open, she pushed.
The beam was from a single flashlight which had been balanced to display the
entire council so Mikage could test the switches. Still labeling purposes.
Smiling whimsically, Faye stepped back into the dark of the walkway.
Lingering just a moment longer to capture the picture in her mind. Mikage
Souji, still in his chair, light hair framing his shadowed features as he rested
against folded arms—fast asleep. No pretense in his weary expression.
Faye suddenly felt satisfied. He was human after all.