"Ahiru?" Princess Rue says in wonder, holding up the duckling gingerly in both hands, "I am so glad to have met you". The faint light at dawn catches onto where she presses a gentle kiss on its fluffy head and spreads; as the morning sun rises to pour brightness generously inside, instead of the Duck, there is now a familiar red-headed figure in Rue's arms.

"Ah", smiles the Prince on the side. "The magic of a princess's kiss."

A tiny patch of the lake has thawed, and Ahiru is already so eager to feel the water again. So Fakir jots down a few lines by the lake, where she can return to her duck form for a few hours, flaps and paddles around with other birds in friendly chatters, not that he can understand a quack.

Idly, he wonders if he can write himself the ability to understand bird language, but decides against it.

Nowadays, Fakir only allows himself to write Ahiru's story. Her story is necessary, he reasons. After all, how can you explain that a girl only starts to exist only when she's 15 in this town?

When the story of the Prince and the Raven ends, the human girl Rue exchanges her place in this world with this duck-girl and leaves for the story-world. The townspeople's memories blur and shift, struggling to accommodate to the new reality. Fakir uses his quill to help fill the gaps.

Ahiru's existence, however, stands too far apart to sustain with subtle manipulation between the storylines and requires her own story (which, Fakir will admit, he is not displeased to write).

They find that writing her story creates a curious form of communication between them.

"Can you also talk to Mytho and Rue by writing?" an idea comes to her.

"I want to know how they are doing! We haven't heard from them since the story ended at all," Ahiru wonders aloud. "How does one live in a story anyway?"

Does time even flow at the same rate in Mytho's finished story? Does it flow at all?


A part of Fakir hollows when Mytho leaves, Ahiru knows.

Fakir now lives alone at home - some relatives have asked Karon away to help run their business. Ahiru visits every weekend to keep Fakir company. Sometimes Fakir has such a faraway look in his eyes, like he mind has drifted to another world and another time.

An old copy of the Prince and the Raven is still tucked in Fakir's writing desk drawer, with a proper ending attached. She imagines it can continue with "one day, the Prince and Princess receives a letter from friends afar, it says so and so and invites them to stay". That forces no fate upon them, right? Mytho and Rue can reply whatever they like, or not reply at all.

But Fakir shakes his head. He has no idea; he'd rather not risk causing any misfortune to Mytho and Rue by his pen though, which power he has yet to fully grasp. Maybe they are busy with royal duties, and will write or come visit later.


Fakir still has a year left at Kinkan Academy. From time to time, he considers switching to the literature department.

Advanced ballet classes are not quite the same without Mytho. He almost say it out loud, but manages to swallow his words quick enough before he can weird people out (again).

Instead, he absent-mindedly scans the room for a blob of red hair.

Ahiru is at the other end of the room. She would have to leave morning practice for the beginner class soon. He re-focuses his mind on his posture and the commands the teacher calls out.

Mytho's talent and passion for ballet is unmatched, as is his popularity in the academy. Fakir wishes the Prince is back here to command the affection of their colleagues, when Miss Bottom - Hermia with a giant donkey head - hands him to another batch of love letters. He doesn't understand why he gets the Mytho treatment in his absence.

(Mind you, it's only like 60% of the experience, but still - it's not like he sports platinum hair or a princely smile, or ever replies to any of those letters.)

He is getting better at dodging Miss Bottom. On Friday night, he suspects he has become too good, because Ahiru now has a shaggy mail bag with her, and proceeds to dump its content onto his dining table

"Miss Bottom asked me to pass this over!" She says brightly, dashing towards the kitchen, "Are you making fish for dinner? Let me help!"

Luckily, he blocks the doorway in time. No Ahiru in the kitchen, thank you very much. He sends her to read the fan mail for him instead.

Do you not mind? He asks her, suddenly a bit awkward.

Oh! Of course not, she assures him, she's happy to help.


Ahiru has to grit her teeth as she tries to stretch her free leg a little bit higher. At times like this, she misses the magical grace of Princess Tutu. Can she ever dance like that again?

"Watch your expression. You look like you have a lemon down your throat."

Fakir will certainly make a great ballet instructor, Ahiru thinks. He sounds just as bad as Mr Neko.

As if reading her mind, Fakir scowls down at her.

"Hold! Don't compensate with your hips!"

She has no one to blame but her past self that asked him for pointers at weekend.

The practices Fakir puts her through do not leave her much energy to mental eye-rolls though. At long last, he lets out a grunt that indicates he is not totally unsatisfied, so she is finally allowed to collapse onto the floor, panting and dizzy.

Fakir is staring down disapprovingly again, this time probably at her ungraceful sprawl on the floor again. "Do you still want to run a pas de deux today?"

"Ugh, y-yes," she tries to breathe steadily, "the-the Bluebird one? I found this simplified version on Tues-day."

"Okay," offering her a hand to help her get up, Fakir starts to hum the melody.

It's off-key, and she tells him so as he holds his arms for her at the starting position, and gets a humph in response.

They go through it several times, before slipping into a more familiar routine of Romeo and Juliet.