She had startled him enough that he shot at her without any idea what he was shooting at and without taking aim. Slowly he came to see the figure standing in the doorway. She had been running. Her breath sounded over the music, some weird opera or something, over the thick quiet that filled again after the gunshot.
Having flinched at the shattering sound, she opened her eyes again and gazed into the darkness.
What was this? It should have been obvious that he didn't want anyone here, least of all an Ophelia. "You... Go away."
Her breath came a bit easier now that she heard his voice. "I won't."
"Go away now!"
"No."
"Go away or I'll kill you."
"You could kill me," she said quietly, "but that wouldn't make me go away. My body would be here in your room. And I'd haunt you."
Her eyes were adjusting, and he came into view, totally disheveled, hair and uniform rumpled, sickly pale with dark circles around his eyes. It pierced her. Whatever had happened, whatever had done this to him, she wanted to hold him in her arms and make it disappear.
"Just get out of here."
"No." Her voice shook, and so did the gun in his hands. She walked deliberately toward him, taking each step patiently, until the muzzle of the gun touched the tie on her uniform.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I will not let you hurt yourself."
"Who are you to decide!?" he snarled.
"You're right. I am no one and I have nothing. Nothing but feelings which won't allow me to ignore yours."
"My feeling right now is that I hate you and I want you to go away. You're ignoring that."
That hurt, but she'd left herself open for it, so she didn't reply. Ever so slowly she moved a hand to his and began to push the gun away. "Touga, put it down. Please."
"Why should I?"
"Because you're not going to do anything with it."
"Idiot girl. You don't know that." But he didn't resist her pushing it aside.
She was being stubborn. Apparently if he wanted to make her leave, he'd have to weaken her, and there was only one way to do that. He put down the gun and looked away, seeming to regret himself for a few moments, before he pulled her in and kissed her hard.
It was a bit surprising and probably something not to be trusted, but she melded to him immediately and gave herself in to it anyway. She couldn't help it, though he was stale and his face scratchy because he hadn't been taking care of himself. She felt his anger and the back of her mind wondered if she should be frightened.
Stupid wench. Self-assured little whore, he thought spitefully, crushing her with his mouth. I'll tear you apart. I'll break your heart into so many pieces you won't know where to look for them.
He stopped just as suddenly, giving her a gaze like one possessed, which in his present state really was frightening. She couldn't move.
"You won't resist anything I do to you, will you?" He put his hands around her neck as if he might strangle her. "If I killed you like this right now, would you struggle at all?"
"Yes," she said, trembling, "because I don't believe you want me dead."
He tightened his grip a little. "What if I do?"
"Aren't you chivalrous?" she whispered. A tear fell down her cheek and onto his sleeve.
"Of course. That's why I won't kill you." He released her and murmured in her ear: "I'll let you go and forget everything you saw. Otherwise I'll have you kicked out of the Academy and you'll never see me again."
She looked at him and another tear fell. "If I go now will I ever see you again!?"
"It's your only chance, isn't it?" He gave her the player's smile and got her to stand. "Now go. Go, Yumi."
He felt victory as her back faced him—but then she turned again and threw a tantrum. "No! I won't leave! You can kill me, you can kick me out of the school, you can break my heart again and again but I'll never, never leave you!"
Rage seized him. He jumped up with a hateful expression and yanked her to him, taking her even more savagely than before. "Is this what you want?" He tore at her uniform. "Do I have to fuck you before you'll leave?"
She gasped. What had she done? This wasn't Touga anymore. It was anger, lust made of hatred, a demon in his form. But she couldn't get away now. Mouth and hands grabbed at her with bruising ferocity, and her lips were not free to speak. Tasting the salt of her frightened tears, he probed beneath her skirt, mercilessly and painfully.
Maybe he didn't know. She tried to tell him that it hurt, but her mouth was covered. He didn't care. She pulled his hair and somehow moved her face away. "Stop it!" she shrieked.
He saw his hand go up to hit her as though it didn't belong to him, but then he was hit with the full knowledge of what he was doing.
He staggered backward in shame and horror.
"No—no—"
Cabbage heads and brilliant sky flashed in his mind. The pungent reek of pipe tobacco. A lecher's grin.
"No!" He didn't want anyone to see him. He covered his face with his hands.
"No! Leave me alone!" His voice was high-pitched with torment.
Her soul screamed for him. She told him the only thing she knew at the moment. "I love you!"
He didn't hear, nor did he hear her cry his name as he collapsed on the floor.

"Well? What shall we do? We can't ignore the fact of someone else knowing about the duels."
"I don't know... Nothing about her makes any sense at all." Quite distraught, Miki rested his chin on his hand.
Juri sipped her tea. "She tells people that she's from another world, that she became human the night you found her. Do you think she believes it?"
"That almost makes more sense. It's like she came out of nowhere, knowing everything."
"I think we have to tell End Of The World somehow. But Touga is the only one in contact with them. Saionji's gone, and now Touga... It's just us, Miki."
Miki looked up fearfully. "You don't think either of them are coming back?"
"I just don't know. Maybe Tenjou's winning and the whole thing is falling apart."
"But...what's happened to Kiryuu- sempai, anyway?"
"He's gone into seclusion, of course. Trying to come to terms with the fact that somebody beat him. The same girl who beat all of us. With the Student Council broken up, there can't be any more duels. And that's really what Tenjou wants."
"But then, would it even matter that someone else knows about the duels and the Rose Bride?"
"Probably not." Juri sighed. "We'll just have to wait for something from End Of The World, or for Touga's ego to repair. Meanwhile, we should keep an eye on that Yumi girl."
"I guess so."
After school they both went to find her, but Yumi was not to be found. Juri, however, recognized the dark-haired friend.
"Excuse me."
"Hm? Oh! Good afternoon, Arisugawa-sempai," the girl said timidly, bowing.
"Good afternoon. Is your friend Yumi here?"
"No, sempai. She left at lunchtime."
"She left? Do you know where she went?"
"Um..." Should she tell? It wasn't a good idea to mislead Arisugawa-sempai, Miteki decided. "She was worried there was something wrong with the Student Council President. I think she might have gone to his place."
Juri stifled a grimace. That was dangerous. Who knew what Touga with an injured ego might do to an amorous intruder? "If you see her, please tell her I'd like to speak to her again."
"Certainly, Arisugawa- sempai." What is Yumi-chan caught up in? These important people always after her... Surely they don't make such a big deal out of everyone who sleeps with the Student Council President. They'd have to hold assemblies... Miteki giggled inwardly, there was a good joke to share with Yumi-chan when she saw her.
Then she saw Miki looking at her, and they both blushed.
Walking out of the classroom, Juri saw the color in Miki's face. It would be nice if he could fall for an ordinary girl, she thought, which Himemiya will never be, no matter what Tenjou Utena thinks.
But how to tell Miki that Yumi had gone to Touga? It would worry him terribly. Nor could she say that Yumi had gone home, then they'd just have to look for her. Well, maybe she had returned home by now.
"What happened?" said Miki.
"Yumi was so distraught, she left at lunchtime," Juri replied. "She must have gone home."
So they went to look for her, but no one was there, just as Juri expected. She tried to conceal her own worry from Miki.
"Where could she be?" the boy fretted.
"Perhaps she's off seeking solace. I'm sure she'll turn up soon. Her friend didn't seem too worried, so it must be okay." Actually the dark-haired girl had seemed a bit anxious, but that was probably just because of Juri's reputation as a royal bitch.
They gave up for the moment, and Miki left to seek his own solace on the piano.
But someone was waiting there for him.

She knelt beside him, not really knowing what to do. What had happened to him? She put a hand to his face to assure herself that he breathed. Then she thought that since he wasn't taking care of himself, she should help him do that. Had he eaten at all during the time he'd isolated himself? Probably not—that must be why he fainted. Oh, Touga, what could have done this to you?
Yumi went and drew a bath. His was a grand bathroom more in the European style, with a sunken marble bathtub separate from the shower paneled with frosted glass. She wondered if he ever made love in that pretty bathtub.
She found the kitchen and made a cup of tea in the microwave, not letting it get too hot. He was still unconscious when she returned to cradle his head and tip the warm tea to his lips.
He woke halfway and sipped it grudgingly, wondering for a moment if he was dead and the tea some rite of purification before his soul was consigned to wherever it was going. Was the cool hand upon his face an angel's? No—it was that foolish girl again. He suppressed the memory of whatever had taken place, preferring to languish in a vague sense of self-hatred. The girl seemed intent on taking care of him, so he gave in and didn't entirely return to consciousness.
"Come on, up," she urged when she set aside the teacup. "You're taking a bath."
He didn't particularly feel like moving, so he let her support him to the bathroom. His expression—or rather lack thereof—distressed her profoundly. His eyes looked...dead. He wouldn't move to help himself at all, so she had to remove his clothes for him, but there was no sexuality involved now. He continued acting as though he heard nothing she said. Was he there at all? He seemed to have retreated into some dismal place where nothing could reach him.
She checked the temperature of the water. It was a little hot; she adjusted it although it was almost full. The bathtub was long to accommodate his height and almost as deep as a Japanese one. She helped him in and he merely lay there, altogether too much like a corpse. Utterly chilled, she found some soap and shampoo in the shower and plunked them down on the side of the tub. He went on staring into space.
"Well? Do you want me to leave?" she said. No answer.
"If you won't say anything, I'll stay here." No answer.
She nudged his shoulder. "You really don't look very sexy acting like a corpse."
His only movements were to blink and the slight rise and fall of his chest. At least he was still breathing.
"I love you," she said again, hoping desperately for some reaction, even if it was scorn and denial.
Even to that, no answer. It was quite maddening. Part of her wanted to scream at him but she really didn't have the heart to attack him. He was making himself so helpless. With a jerking motion she turned off the water, wishing she could leave it running because the silence was horrific.
"Well, if this is the case, I will do everything for you. Except shave. You'll have to do that yourself. I don't want to mess up your face. I hope you don't mind if I sing. This silence is really getting to me."
Her expressive alto echoing slightly in the tiled bathroom, she provided an Ayu song to combat the awful silence. As though with a child, she washed his hair, the long red beautiful stuff in disarray, but she couldn't help but be reverent about it, and the act felt especially intimate.
In fact it was quite intimate, and it soothed him somehow at the same time it turned him on a bit. He was too weak yet for lovemaking, but he felt for some reason that he wanted her body beside his. After she had rinsed his hair out, she sat idly stroking him, sorrowing at his impassivity. He granted her wish. "Come here."
When she looked at him in surprise she was overjoyed to see that he didn't look so zombie-like. There was something in his eyes now—calm—acceptance? Did he accept her? Was it possible?
Though she wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, she stripped delicately and joined him. There was room to spare.
Despite the objections of his damaged pride, something about her proximity was comforting. He sighed as she kissed his neck and tenderly soaped him up. For the moment he could let her believe what she wanted to.
She wanted him, but for the moment she would rather just hold him. And take care of him. He wasn't asking for that, though he grew stiff as he yielded to her ministrations, since of course she couldn't keep the caress out of them. She wondered if she should... No, she'd know when he wanted any of that. It was so strange, how he was letting her be so intimate and they were both aroused but it wasn't erotic.
If you wanted, Touga, I would do nothing but take care of you forever. I would be your Rose Bride.
After he was clean she lay holding him for a few minutes in the soapy water, until she noticed it was getting cold. She pulled him out and wrapped them both in towels, then combed out his hair. He couldn't remember anyone ever being this intimate with him, not even Kyouichi.
At least Kyouichi wasn't here to see him so vulnerable. His old "friend" would never let him forget it.
No, this was merely a foolish little girl who would soon be crushed under the weight of her love.
"Now you'll shave and whatever, and I will make you something to eat. I know you haven't eaten." Seeing as she'd barely been human for a week, she couldn't prepare much beyond rice, eggs and tea, but she'd find something.
She was right, and he was much too tired to protest for he hadn't really slept either since the duel. He didn't want to think about anything... Fine, just listen to the girl, she wants to make everything go away so let her.
Let her try.


"Hello, Mickey."
The tall figure emerged from the shadows of the music room to reveal pine-colored tresses and violent violet eyes.
"Sa—Saionji- sempai!?" Miki dropped his book. "How—What are you doing here? You can't be here!"
"No one's stopped me. We need to discuss, Miki, the direction of the Student Council."
"There isn't much of a Student Council at the moment. I don't suppose you've seen the President around lately?"
Kyouichi moved closer. "That's what I'm talking about. Miki-kun, we must ally ourselves against Touga."
"What? Kiryuu-sempai's in isolation. He's not doing anything because his ego is hurt."
"Silly boy! Don't you know that a Touga with a bruised ego is the most dangerous Touga of all?" Kyouichi smiled knowingly, and the blue-haired boy blushed. "He'll use anyone he can to get back on top."
He'll use anyone... Miki gasped. "Yumi-san!" He turned to run out of the room, but Kyouichi caught him.
"No, Miki, I'm talking about us. We have to protect ourselves."
"Saionji-sempai, what do you mean?" Miki slowly pulled his hand away. He didn't trust Saionji as far as he could throw him. Especially with the way he treated Himemiya-san.
A soft look suddenly came over Kyouichi, and he touched the younger boy's face. "Miki, so sweet and innocent... I don't want him to use you...the way he used me."
Typically, Miki turned scarlet, and there was fear in his eyes. "What? But Saionji-sempai—"
He forgot what he was going to say when Kyouichi kissed him on the mouth.
Shocked, he pulled away. "Saionji-sempai! I—"
"Ssshh." Kyouichi romantically embraced the boy, covering Miki's lips again with his. The young mouth was soft and sweet, clearly just as virgin as the rest of him. Kyouichi forced himself to hold back so as not to frighten the boy away. But Miki struggled anyway and escaped again.
"What are you doing?! You're just like Kiryuu!..."
That stung. I am NOT like him! "No, Miki, I'm not. I'm nothing like him. I don't want to break your heart—I want to open it."
Such sweet words coming from the brutal, bitter Vice President of the Student Council? Surely such claims were not to be trusted.
He should never have hesitated before running. But trying to think of how to get away ruined his chances of doing so. And Miki found himself back in the upperclassman's arms, pulled to the kendo-toned body, too stricken to move.
Kyouichi wouldn't let go this time. He made his passion more insistent, adding caresses across the narrow chest, licking the virgin lips, making Miki reflexively open his mouth and let him in. The blue-haired virtuoso was so small in his embrace, almost fragile. The boy trembled, no longer as much from fear, but from the totally new and unchildlike sensations Kyouichi awakened. Miki's mind said RUN, every dendrite of rational thought screamed GET AWAY, but his body had other ideas. He couldn't get away. He was being seduced—overtaken by a sweet heavy storm, by desires that had never before intruded on his consciousness, not even when he thought of Himemiya. And this was happening with another boy. With Saionji Kyouichi. With a hand up his shirt and another tongue in his mouth. Saionji who'd been so evil to Himemiya, and whom he almost hated despite his kind nature. Then why did it feel so good? There was nothing he could do to stop it.
How should he go about this? He really did want to fuck the boy in his virgin ass. In his head Kyouichi could hear Touga telling him how uncouth he was. He knew he couldn't yield to that temptation now. As things were, that would hurt Miki too much, and he didn't want to frighten the boy away. Oh, he was doing both those things already, hurting and frightening him, but that was inevitable. He did want to be as gentle as was possible for him. True, he could be a bit fierce sometimes, but he would never do what that terrible man had done to Touga...
Maybe he should leave in the middle of it and make Miki wait for the whole thing. No, he couldn't. Touga could do that to people but Kyouichi simply didn't have the control. It would have to be enough today to have those soft little lips around him... He hardened in anticipation, unbuttoning Miki's shirt. Such innocent beauty, like a rosebud. He'd thought that perhaps Touga had gotten to it first, but that obviously wasn't the case. Even Touga-sama hadn't dared to mar this priceless purity—or else he had waited too long. Because Kyouichi was here first. Juri would be furious.
Miki didn't know what to do with himself, he had no idea how to move, where to put his hands. Why were his pants so tight? Kyouichi removed his own shirt, not the uniform, for he could hardly wear that now. He could hardly wear anything right now.
"Saionji-sempai," the boy gasped, "you can't...we can't...someone will see us!"
"No they won't, dear Mickey. This is more your room than the one you share with your sister." Kyouichi brought his lips to a cute, innocent nipple and reached down the boy's pants. He moaned under the touch of very skilled fingertips. One didn't spend ten years with a playboy and not learn a few tricks. Pretty, innocent Mickey-chan. Wait until I get you in my mouth...
Deftly Kyouchi slipped the boy's pants off, and Miki inhaled sharply at the cool air on his throbbing erection.
Then they were writhing together naked against the piano, as surely happened so often with Touga and any number of girls. Or maybe it was just Touga and Miki's messed-up sister, so she could get it on in the room where her better half spent so much time and pretend it was him. Even though one really couldn't draw any similarities between the player and the piano player, except perhaps that they were both impossibly beautiful.
Touga used to tell him he was beautiful...once upon a time in a fairy tale. That castle in the sky had fallen years ago.
He half wished Touga could see this.
The boy was too bewildered to give Kyouichi any foreplay in return, but his soft innocence was enough. Miki could feel the tall Vice President's hardness pressing against him, and things were happening to him that had never had occasion to happen before. What was he doing? Why was Saionji-sempai doing this? It wasn't supposed to be like this with another boy...he wasn't like this...and that didn't matter at all. From within him was that primal urge, and he didn't care what it took to gratify it, he just needed to come. Now.
Kyouichi smirked. So young and inexperienced. He should learn the value of waiting.
The forest-haired young man knelt, drinking in the boy's body with his haunted gaze. He was of a nicer size than than one might guess from his slight frame, though his boyhood was still apparent. Despite his academic maturity, he had some physical catching up to do.
It brought unbidden memories of Touga back when...but Touga had never been innocent. Smooth, soft, sweet as an angel—Miki was beautiful indeed.
Miki heard his own voice pleading for release as Kyouichi teased him with lips and tongue, a hand stroking his thigh and then massaging a tender place behind his balls. He had no idea this could happen to him... And, his fingers tangled in the rich green hair, his hips thrust and the center of his pleasure dove deep in Kyouichi's mouth, where he found such ecstasy that he completely lost any idea of what was going on or either who of them might be.
The cries of Miki's advance toward manhood echoed in the piano room.
See, Touga, there is someone in this school I can please before you do...

The image wouldn't leave her mind.
Maybe it was because Yumi, her first friend in hell knew how long, seemed to place some value on her clairvoyance. Or perhaps this vision had particular importance. She did get that sense, though she couldn't think of what it meant.
Sometimes the visions showed events clearly as they would potentially happen, but equally often they would come obeying the laws of dreams, using symbolism and seeming nonsense. She didn't always know immediately what these more obscure ones portended; if it concerned her for some reason—it usually didn't—she might try and look up the significance of the images. But she had trained her mind to forget, and did so most of the time. And along with the images there often came feelings that would help her decipher the meaning, if she should be so inclined. This recent one, however, continued to be vague. She had a feeling that conventional symbolism didn't apply.
In the middle of a class after Yumi's departure (which surprised no one, since she looked so ill today) the vision had come. There were green and blue roses twining together, and a feeling of complicated sadness, oppressive and shameful melancholy. Unspecified, unsettling, unsought. What was it? Shouldn't she just forget all about it? She wished she could tell Yumi. Her eccentricity might bring some insight.
Arisugawa-sempai inquired after Yumi, but Miteki had little to tell. She felt like she really had no idea what was going on. In confusion she went to the piano room as usual, hoping for some comfort in her ritual. Anticipating the soothing sound, the music that poured like balm over a soul whose existence she doubted, she didn't watch where she was going, and rounding a corner she ran into a tall forest-haired upperclassman in casual dress. "Oh! Pardon me, sempai!" She received a piercingly annoyed glance and bowed low.
Wasn't that the kendo team captain, the Vice President of the Student Council? Hadn't he been expelled? That would explain why he wasn't in uniform, but not why he was on campus. She turned to look after him in curiosity, but quickly jerked forward again. That was rude. However, it was indeed the Vice President. Perhaps he was being readmitted. But just as Yumi kept saying this morning, something felt wrong...
There was no music coming from the piano room. The door was open and she poked her head in to see if anyone was there at all.
There was Miki on the piano bench, half naked and crying.

Touga was sprawled on a sofa, perhaps asleep, when she returned with a plate of eggs and toast and an attempt at miso soup. He didn't seem to notice her presence, and yet concerned as she was, her hormones stirred at the sight of him; he couldn't help but look erotic.
"Here," she announced. He opened his eyes halfway.
"I should kill you," he said slowly, "for letting you see me so vulnerable. Yes, I really shouldn't let you live."
Knowing he was right, she didn't protest. She set his meal down beside him, trying not to spill the soup with her trembling, determined in vain not to let him know how easily he aroused her with that languid glance.
"If you're going to kill me," said Yumi, "you'll have to live, and for that you must eat."
"I won't kill you. I should but I won't and you know it."
She had nothing to say. She sat down beside him, and, careful not to disturb the plate, gritting her teeth to control her shakiness through sheer willpower, she brought a spoonful of miso broth to his lips. So deceptive, his lips, so cruel the words from them and so sweet the kisses... He sipped it delicately.
"Well, now that you have a secret of mine to keep, you should tell me a secret of yours."
"I have no secrets from you," she replied. "You know everything about me."
"But I don't. I know nothing about you. Where are you from? Haven't you a history?"
"Actually I don't." She blew on another spoonful. "I could tell you my story but it really is insignificant, and besides that it's kind of difficult to believe..."
He laughed a bit. "Difficult to believe? I assure you I have seen things stranger than what you could tell me..."
"Oh, I know about that," she said offhandedly, not understanding the import of her words.
He looked at her skeptically. "What? What do you know?"
Suddenly she worried that he would be upset with her for knowing anything. Well, she didn't really; she hadn't heard about any of that dueling stuff since she came into human existence. Still... What could she say to cover?
"Well it's obvious you've all got some conspiracy thing going on. The Student Council's so all-powerful and everything," she rambled.
She does know something. Suspicious alarms went off in his half-asleep mind. Well, no matter, he'd easily drag it out of her any time he wished. For the moment he obliged her and sipped the broth. "Well then? Tell me where you come from."
"But my memories are hardly worth recounting."
"I thought you said you had no secrets from me."
"If you're really that curious...the place I come from is a vale of dreams, made of sparkling light and laughter, crystal flowers and astral magic. It's older than time, more beautiful than the stars, and it never changes." Her voice was poetic and nostalgic. "I've mostly forgotten, but I can still almost see it when I close my eyes... Of course, I can never go back there." Nor would I wish to, as you are here, she left unsaid but nonetheless audible.
He smiled at her whimsy. "And where exactly is your 'vale of dreams'?"
"It's not of this world."
What sort of nonsense was she giving him? But this fawn-eyed girl was more transparent than a window, and she wasn't lying. Or at least she believed her words to be true. He cocked his head at her. Her appearance certainly hinted at things not of this world. "I suppose you do rather look like a changeling..."
"What's a changeling?"
"An old Irish myth, that if the fairy folk saw a human child they liked, they would take it and leave one of their own in its place, something like that. So your homeland must be, what's it called, T'r na Nog?"
"I wasn't replacing anyone," she said openly. "I became human because I wanted to." There it was again, the Thing Which Must Not Be Said Aloud. She blushed and fed him more soup. He too remained quiet until the last of it was gone.
"Why did you want to?" he pressed gently then, just to see what she'd come up with.
"Because I saw you," she murmured, eyes downcast. If he knew he was her weakness, why did she feel so foolish every time it came up? She nudged the plate toward him. "Eat your dinner."
He looked at the toast and eggs. "Dinner?" Of course, he'd drawn all the curtains, so he had no idea what time of day it might be.
"I know it looks like breakfast... I'm sorry, I can't cook at all. I can't even make rice balls." She laughed nervously. "I'd make a terrible wife."
He laughed at her irrelevant worrying. "Oh, but you're perfectly competent in regard to other conjugal duties..." He shouldn't say things like that. She'd think he meant to take her to bed again when actually he would rather sleep alone.
Or would he?
His bruised ego whined for solitude, but solitude so easily lapsed into loneliness. Which so easily lapsed into self-hatred, which Ophelia- chan here apparently sensed in him and was bound and determined to wipe out. As though she could come along in a perky maid outfit and sweep away all these complexes like so many dust bunnies. She was a complete idiot. Putting a hand to her mouth to hide the shy little smile and blushing so immaculately. As though she expected her devotion to bring something other than supreme disillusionment.
He'd just have to deal with her. Perhaps to break her heart he would first have to let her believe that she was gaining possession of his. This was the most cruel of tactics, especially with her, but it would make her see the truth. Because even though she knew it was stupid, and she knew that he knew, for some reason she still believed that he could love her.
Haven't you had enough of trifling with hearts? some part of him nagged. Maybe you're losing your power. You couldn't break her to your will.
Fuckit, what am I doing?
He couldn't think like this today. He still hated himself too much.
The toast and eggs were cold, but it would be unchivalrous to say so. And if dire fragments of memory proved accurate, he had already behaved unchivalrously enough toward her today.

"Wishing Well, I'm sick of everyone telling me what to do!" A-ko threw a coin down the well. A splash sounded. "I wish I was the queen!"
"Are you sure that's what you want?" said B-ko's voice.
A-ko looked around. "What? Who was that?"
"I'm the spirit of the Wishing Well. I have to make sure people really know what they're wishing for."
"Of course I know what I wish for! I wish to be queen."
"If you say so. Granted." Poof!
Now the shadow girls appeared as royal subjects. "She's a terrible queen! She must be assassinated."
"I agree completely. We shall dispatch the assassin immediately."
"AAA!" cried Queen A-ko on her throne. "I'm the queen! Why are you trying to kill me?"
"Because everyone agrees that you're a terrible queen," replied B-ko the assassin, holding a knife.
"But I'm not really queen! I only wished to be the queen!"
"Sorry, I'm just doing my job," said the assassin, and plunged the knife into the queen's breast.
"Uuugh," A-ko moaned and fell over.


"Miki-chan!" cried Miteki. Her books hit the floor behind her as she flew to him. This was atypical of her; but decorum, a facade dropped at the door along with homework, had no place in the situation.
Which was what? Which was something terrible had happened to the boy she loved: all the day's unease, all Yumi's ravings come home to roost.
I won't, I won't run away! I won't! Acting on an impulse that terrified her, she drew up all her inner strength and sheltered the bewildered pianist in her arms. She didn't ask what had happened, only murmured nonsense words of comfort. That vision...that image...is this what it meant?
Past the point of caring that he was shirtless in some girl's arms, he didn't even know whose shoulder it was he cried upon, but shame made him cry harder. She doesn't know. She doesn't know what I did, she doesn't know how awful I am.
She held him tightly, empathetic tears gathering in her eyes, as the moisture from his wet her collar. How? What? What the hell was going on today? She spared a moment's thought for Yumi: How close is this dilemma to hers? Oh god how right was she—something is horribly askew this day—
He was shivering; the piano room was kept cool so as not to mess up the tuning; she reached for his uniform shirt and draped it around his shoulders. He didn't move, nor struggle nor speak, only broke out in stifled sobs. Someone had hurt him. Whose doing was this? Was it Kozue's? Suspicion stirred wrathful thoughts even as his tears clawed into her heart. Whatever it was, whatever evil might be afoot, she would protect him...
Eventually his tears ceased as she stroked the soft blue hair, singing a tune as old as the trees it celebrated. "Sakura, sakura, yayoi no sora wa..."
Oddly enough, her voice had the same sweet, soothing quality for Miki that Miteki found in his piano playing.
He sniffed and finally lifted deep blue eyes, seeing her for the first time. Her own eyes had gone stormy with worry and love.
"You're Yumi's friend, aren't you?" he said hoarsely. "The one my sister..." His fingertips went to the fading bruise on her cheek, and he could feel the heat that rushed to her face.
Suddenly he blushed too, and backed away to put on his uniform jacket.
"Are you okay?" Miteki asked softly. He looked at her as if it was a play for which he'd forgotten his lines.
She's worried about me... he realized, still blushing. She wants to know what happened. The thought of anyone knowing horrified him so that he stammered, "I'm sorry, I—I have to go." He left abruptly.
His music notebook was on the floor not far from her own books. She thought of telling him, but decided he must want to be alone. He must hate her now.

Touga had retracted back into himself, turtle-like, after she put the dishes in the kitchen. "Do you...need anything else?" she said uncertainly. She had no reason to expect a reply, and received none.
His eyes passed over her without seeing and he sighed deeply.
"You're tired. Did you sleep? I bet you didn't sleep at all either. Come on..." She pulled him up and he obeyed blankly, wondering why he would be able to sleep now if he couldn't before. Yumi bit her lip as she realized she was leading him to the bedroom, and both of them clad in just these flimsy silk robes... The heavy scent of sex that hit like a wave on opening the door was no less than pure pheromones, not easily resisted. Wouldn't he let her know somehow if he wanted her? She looked at him for direction, terrified of making the wrong move lest she bring out that demon-thing again—something had hurt him and he was so fragile now, a broken bone she didn't know how to tend.
"Well?" she said, more irritably than she intended. Fighting desire for him was stressful work. She stood aside for him to enter his room alone, but he didn't move.
She ground her teeth. This was torture. "Sh—should I leave?" she stammered. Her lips hesitated around the words; clearly they would rather be occupied elsewhere.
He replied just before she would have thrown a fit. "No." But he didn't look at her and made no move toward her. How was she supposed to know what he meant!?
Trying not to think of what might or might not happen, she walked calmly to the pink bed and held aside a gauzy curtain. He lay down slowly, in zombie mode, but he brushed her thigh on the way—accidentally to be sure, which made no difference whatsoever to her body, already charged and waiting for any contact to confirm her arousal.
He wasn't looking at her, but he didn't close his eyes, continuing to stare disconsolately. He looked so forlorn there... So she leaned forward, pushed away a few locks of crimson hair, and kissed him.
He responded lazily, not giving her the hungry passion she would have liked. His hand indifferently found her inner thigh as she moved her mouth across his jawline, and she whimpered when he let one finger nudge her already wet center.
"Is this still what you're after?" he whispered roughly, knowing it was a cruel thing to say since she couldn't help herself. No one ever could in this room.
Predictably, she pulled away at the sting of his words. "What! Don't you understand?"
"Don't I understand what?"
"You do too! You're just being mean."
Apparently he'd decided it was time to ignore her again. The memory of the gun in the dark loomed fearfully in her mind. She choked out a sob suddenly and clutched at him tightly, as though determined to protect him from something. Touga! You would have—! Why would you do that?
Her desire had not been entirely thwarted, and she wanted his mouth on hers again, but he would only tease her more. Why did he have to be so cruel? Why did it make her soul burn not with anger, but with that pure fire which had first birthed her?
"Tell me what hurt you," she murmured into his shoulder.
"Why should I?" he said after a while.
"So I can kill it."
He did not answer, but thought that now he knew how to break her.
She pressed into him, hearing his heartbeat, and her own. Doki-doki, doki-doki, they whispered to each other. Koi shiteru, koi shiteru! her heart said, louder and more constant than its rhythm, but could he hear that? She strained to hear what his heart might be saying... but he had probably silenced it long ago, its secret cries full of pain and bitterness. She put a hand over his heart, wishing with all of hers that she could heal it somehow, make it real again.
"You don't know how special it is to me, just to be human. To be with you."
Her heart was open for him to take all her secrets. He may as well. "You really used to be something else?"
"Yes."
"What sort of being? How did you come here?"
"I was something light and mysterious, insubstantial, something humans could neither see, hear nor touch. Something without a soul. I think the closest word is fairy. I didn't come here alone. We were seeking...seeking something...seeking mysteries. What we were...when we saw a human, we would see more than the form, the body—we could see the soul, and souls are so beautiful. I suppose we wanted to surround ourselves with that beauty. It's common, the seeking. But soon I was alone, because they didn't...they couldn't see..." Her voice was becoming agitated.
"What?" he urged gently, touching her cheek. He could afford to be tender when he was after something.
"They were watching...they were too busy watching. The others, they didn't understand, they wouldn't even try." The knowledge she shouldn't have and the truth she couldn't speak welled up inside her, fighting for words, and only came out in the form of tears.
He watched her patiently, almost sympathetically.
"I wasn't part of them anymore. I wasn't seeking what they sought. I... I fell for you, and they couldn't understand. They shunned me because they couldn't see what it was."
"What, Yumi?"
She lowered her eyes, pressing herself closer to him, aware all the time of the hunger he wouldn't satisfy. "You—your soul." That mystery, that hidden wound. They were fooled, but not me.
He didn't quite believe her, but he didn't disbelieve her either. In his world it was so hard to tell what was real, it didn't really matter one way or the other. "Why did you become human for me?"
She felt his breath on her face, and thought, For this. "It just happened. I couldn't feel without a soul. You...made me feel...and my feelings formed a soul, and my soul formed a body, and I became human."
"What did I make you feel?" He caressed her neck, moving aside the thin fabric of his robe that covered her shoulder, though he had no intention of fulfilling her desire.
"Longing," she sighed. "Truth. Human desires. I just wanted...to be near you... You don't know what it's like, I would try to touch you and just pass through, you never knew I was there. I had to become human, I want to know everything you are, and... Touga—" She shook against him; he was torturing her, his fingertips travelling delicately down her chest. The heat rose to her skin.
"Is that it? You want to know me?" His voice was low and erotic, teasing. "To know everything I am. Is that what you call it in fairyland?"
"Don't. Don't be mean."
"You want me, don't you. You want to feel me inside you." His lips were a tiny distance from hers, too distant for her comfort, he knew. He felt between her thighs; she was soaked there. "Just human desires."
"Ah!—No. I'm not like them. They don't know. I want everything. I want your soul." She couldn't explain herself very well at this point.
"Oh, Yumi, don't you know? This is my soul. This is all I am."
"It isn't. Don't lie to me. I know— Stop. Don't tease me." She should throw herself on him, pin him down and make him see the force of her passion. But she couldn't, she could never do that, for she knew what had been done to him. She could only wait...
It was too much for one little human girl to endure. She went down on him, as she had before in this room, with all that passion she couldn't contain. He wasn't even hard yet, but that changed quickly.
He bit down the cries he knew she wanted to hear. She knew how to do that so well—how did she know—just the way to make him lose control, the one thing he couldn't allow. He pried her off, moving as though to kiss her, so she'd comply. But he only grated in her ear: "None of your tricks, now."
A little flutter of triumph went through her. She could get to him. Kissing him lightly, she played with her fingers between his legs.
Oh no, no no no. She wouldn't overtake him so easily. The last thing he needed was for her to think she had any power over him. He'd have to give her what she really wanted and take it away at the last minute. He flipped her abruptly on her back and covered her mouth with his, in all the deep sweetness she craved, and parted the robe she wore. Let her believe he would take her...and then...but would he be able to get away? Not to hear her tell it. But he'd prove her wrong, he'd tease her until she had to either run away panting or satisfy herself.
He could do that in front of her, make her watch as he took his own pleasure. That would be really mean. He smiled wickedly at the cruel idea.
She knew, from the way he wouldn't let her arouse him, that he intended to fulfill her either after a very long time or not at all. She should leave, she should run and save her sanity, or at least her dignity—he'd have her begging in tears for release, while he mocked her feelings, telling her this was all she wanted from him simply because it was all she could have.
All she could ever have. Why should she want any more than this—his sweet mouth, his skillful hands, his graceful body, the soft cascade of his hair on her shoulders as she moaned his name like an invocation to some god of fertility rites—what else was there for her to want?
There was the depth behind his eyes that he tried to keep hidden. There was the secret, the boy torn apart and buried, his true self lost. But not forever.
I want to know everything you are. I want your soul.
That hadn't come out right. Words never came easily to truth.
She should leave but of course she couldn't get away. He must know what crippling bliss his kisses gave her. He must know how helpless she was when he surrounded her with himself like this, and still he had to prove he was the one in power. So let him toy with her, torture her, enslave her—wasn't that her only purpose, to let him prove himself? He had to do this, he needed someone to reduce, this was how he forgot about being hurt.
Her soul ached for him along with her body.
"Maybe I'll keep you here like this, right here, forever," he mused. "Yumi, my concubine, my sweet little bedroom slave. We'll write sequels to the Kama Sutra. Would you like that?"
She hardly understood his words; she could only moan in reply.
"Maybe I'll never let you come. I could just keep you always on the edge, waiting, and pleading, but never any release..."
Her moan was a plaintive whine. He illustrated by rubbing her swollen sensitive nub, and then holding back, just teasing, when she would have climaxed.
She made a frustrated cry, almost a sob. Some part of him was angry, hating himself for being so cruel, but the anger only made him want to be more cruel. This was all he knew how to do; he had no other way to deal. Oh, if he let himself he could thrash about and yell and break things in fury, he could beat the girl instead of playing with her. But that would be losing control. He had to control things... Wasn't that the whole problem? He'd found something he couldn't control and it had ruined him. He must always control everything, ever since....
He drowned all emotion and memory, as he always had, in sensation. Her taut nipples, her slick center, her parted mouth and pleading eyes. It didn't matter who she was. Just a sweet warm body, to use, to torment, to please until he forgot himself completely.


There are a lot of questions one can ask about Ohtori Academy.
For starters: What's with all the roses? Shouldn't the emblem be a phoenix? Then why didn't they call it Bara no Hana Academy? Do people actually learn anything here? Why is that pink-haired chick in a customized boy's uniform? What is the Student Council really up to?
Why do people fall in love with Kiryuu Touga?
That's the one I try to answer.
It's easy to have what people call a "crush" on him. And it's easy to confuse that with "love," or so I seem to recall from observation. Of course, nothing less would have made me human.
Admiration. Desire. Infatuation. Lust. Obsession. He welcomes all of those, indeed, must expect them as his due. But love? The boy should hand out pamphlets warning against it. Put a caution sign on his back.
Not that such measures would have any effect whatsoever.
Maybe that's the reason people do it. Because they know they shouldn't. Because it's just another perfect path to self-destruction. Unfiltered cigarettes. Heroin. Driving 200 kmph in the wrong lane. Falling in love with Touga...
Did I want to destroy myself? It's true that by this love I am doubly doomed—made mortal through a fatal attraction.
I'm letting their words get to me. "Kiryuu Touga is a dangerous person to love." "I think he might try to hurt you."
But it's adventure, isn't it, a challenge. Danger. Perhaps it is not self-destruction we seek in loving him, but simply that element of danger...
Maybe that's the same thing. This is a danger no one has defeated, a challenge no one has conquered. And yet I sought it, became human to chase the adventure when watching wasn't enough.
Why have I taken this path? He doesn't want me to love him. He doesn't know what to do with anyone's love.
What if, deep down in that place he hides from everyone, he still hates himself? What if he cannot accept true love because, no matter how many people he takes to bed, he really believes that he isn't worth anyone's love?
I pray that there is another explanation, and everyone who has tried to warn me about him should pray the same. I pray for his sake, and they should pray for mine—for if this is the terrible truth, I know I would destroy myself just to prove him wrong.



If he was going to break her, he'd have to temporarily compromise a principle or two.
One principle was that he never cried out, moaned, or otherwise uttered any names during climax. It was too easy to mess up, and if it didn't get confused, it gave an impression of attachment.
Part of this process, however, was to give that impression, but never confirm it, so that when he finally denied it he could say that she saw only what she wanted to see. He suspended the rule and gave her the sound of her name in his voice at the height of passion.
He gave her what she wanted—abandoning himself to her pleasure, losing himself inside her. After he made her wait long enough for her to have forgotten her name anyway. The rush, the sweetness, she did make everything else go away. Just like she wanted to...
Then he told her what a good girl she was, soothing her like a puppy dog after a hard day's training. The waiting had wound her so tightly, he had to pet her as well, to rub the strain from her tensed muscles. She was quiet now, sated and worn out; she must be emotionally drained as well. So far she had not been one to hide her emotions, which was lucky, for he had to judge them properly if he was to play on them as was necessary.
But she was still hiding something. He saw the tears suddenly, flowing fresh and silent, seeming somehow luminous. They had not been there before. Her secret was in them.
"Ah, Yumi," he murmured, "what could you have to cry about?"
She made a small wistful smile at some inner irony. "I'm doomed, aren't I?" was all she said.
If she already knew her fate, he wondered, how much would she resist it when it came?
He was thirsty for something light. She too must need a drink. He had taken out some of his favorite saké when he heard, faint from distance, a knocking on the door.
Now who wanted to intrude? What made them think he would answer?

As she went to the Student Council dorm, Miteki was not sure which task she was using as an excuse for the other. She had to see if Yumi was okay. She had to give Miki his music book. Both would be difficult, and both were obligations.
Maybe she should wait until Monday to give him his book. What if the only person there was Kozue-whore?
There's a good reason to see if Yumi's okay first. Maybe she'd come along on the other errand for moral support.
Of course, from the small bit she'd come to understand, Yumi would already be busy giving moral support. Or something. Ew... Miteki did not want to interrupt anything. Why was she over here at all? These were both dangerous, stupid, and probably unnecessary missions.
But what if Yumi's visit had not gone that way? What if... Miteki must know that everyone was alright. Yumi still was nowhere to be found. Several worst-case scenarios had come up to haunt the shy poetess since she found that Miki had been hurt.
Oh, why did she have to run up and comfort him like that? He'd never want to look at her again.
She could just shove the book in his locker or leave it outside the door, but it never entered her head not to give it to him in person, because she had to see him again, whether he hated her or not.
And now she had to knock on the Student Council President's door. Nanami would probably come and beat the crap out of her, and hell knew she couldn't fight back like Yumi did.
The lack of answer made her especially worried.

He ignored the knocking and waited for the potential intruder to leave. Yumi looked at him nervously, but did the same when she saw that he paid no attention.
The person did not leave, but knocked again after a minute.
Whoever it was seemed to consider heavily before opening the door and gingerly announcing, "Ojama shimasu wa..."
"Teki-chan?" wondered Yumi.
"Someone you know?"
"I think it's my friend Miteki. I guess she got worried..." Yumi blushed to think that everyone knew where she had gone, and that it must now be very apparent what had been keeping her here for the past few hours.
"Excuse me, I'm sorry—but I'm looking for my friend—" came Miteki's voice.
"Let me go and..." Yumi began, and started looking for the robe that was tangled in the sheets somewhere, but Touga was already on his way.
He saw the shy, dark-haired girl standing in the doorway, looking as though she might burst into tears.
"And who are you looking for?" he said, more calmly than she deserved.
Considering as he wasn't actually dressed, she found it difficult to look at him. She bowed about twenty times, stuttering, "I'm so sorry, please forgive me for intruding. I'm just looking for Yumi. She left so suddenly and, um, I haven't seen her..."
"You've nothing to worry about. She's been here the whole time." His words were kind enough, but he said it so indifferently, as though Yumi was a spider on the wall.
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry, may I talk to her, please?" Miteki desperately wanted to be able to tell her friend about the whole thing with Miki... Maybe Yumi would know, somehow, what it was all about... Though if Miteki the psychic of sorrow didn't know, who would?
Actually, so many worst-case scenarios had been running through her mind that the Student Council President's word was not enough to stop her worrying. The word of a guy who assured one girl of his fidelity via celphone while feeling up another couldn't be worth much.
Talk? Yeah, like he needed more people in here. Yumi was probably too embarrassed to show her face; anyway he wanted to be rid of the intrusion. "She's asleep," he told her.
Permanently? thought Miteki with a sick chill. For all she knew she was talking to a murderer. "Please, Seitokaichou-sama, can I see her just for a minute?"
Yumi, however, had apparently decided to feign drunkenness, stumbling about with the bottle of fine saké. "Dammit Teki- chan, I'm perfeckly fine, now go 'way before I dump this Kiku Special over your fool head."
Miteki blinked. That sounded like healthy Yumi—not healthy enough to walk upright, but healthy.
"Well, she should have been asleep by now," said Touga ruefully.
"Look at this! You supposed to be my friend and here you are makin' eyes at him like everyone else. Fffuck all you bitches!" Yumi hiccuped theatrically and retreated.
"Charming, isn't she?" he remarked.
"I'm glad, uh, she's having a good time. So sorry to bother you. Please excuse me," Miteki said quickly, bowing several more times and making her exit. In her rush to leave the Student Council dorm, she quite forgot about Miki's music book.
"A girl of many talents," he congratulated Yumi. "She can sing, she can act, she can fight..." He put his lips next to her ear. "She can please a man..."
"Because that's really why I'm here, isn't it?" She gave him a challenging look, daring him to mock her, though her pulse quickened.
He returned her stare levelly. "I warned you," he said helplessly.
"I already knew. Did it make any difference?"
"Yes," he answered her rhetorical question. "The harder something is to get, the more people want it."
"Is that so? I thought the only law that applies to all humans is gravity." She jumped, and watched her feet land back on the floor. "That used to not happen."
"You're right, of course. There are laws of nature, but no laws for human nature. Only generalizations. I'm sure you would work doubly hard to defy any generalizations made about you." He smiled at the irony of his statement. Quirky as her character was, she would verify every generalization he made about her.
"You know what I don't like? I don't like people judging me. People think they know what I want and they know what'll happen to me. But they don't know. Not even you. No one can know because...not even I know."
"But you told me. What did you mean, then, when you said you want my soul?"
"I don't know." Flooded by yearning for unnamed, unnameable things, she did not flinch from his searching look. "Do things people say in your bed usually mean something?"
He laughed. "I suppose not."
"Do you know what you want?"
Once more the brief flicker of anger or pain, there and gone in a fraction of a blink, quickly hidden and easily missed. Then the ice-blue eyes regained, or perhaps never lost, their usual chilled indifference. Could she ever know if that flicker was real, and not just a fabrication of her heart that longed for his emotion?
"Do you?" she pressed.
If I did, I wouldn't tell you, he thought. "You've beat me again. I don't think many people know what they really want."
"But they think they know what other people want."
"You do have a lot to say about human nature. Are you going into psychology?"
"Maybe. Or maybe, since I'm so good at pleasing men, I should go into prostitution." Yumi swilled the bottle of saké for real. "Mmm. Hey, saké is good."
Touga laughed again. She did manage to be quite amusing—weak medicine for the wounds of defeat, but he would take it. "If you're going to be a courtesan, you should at least drink that properly out of a sakazuki, and pour me some too."
"Eh, quit making generalizations." She went to up-end the bottle some more, but he yanked it away, at which she whined in protest.
"Very well, but I am going to teach you to drink saké." He took out the sakazuki set. "You must know by now that the only criterion to share my pillow is that one must be a civilized human being."
"Oh! Did you hear that? That was the sound of my dreams flying away."
How she did amuse him. Just like a good toy should. "Oh, I like you."
She did not outwardly celebrate or contemplate the words as he poured the saké, but tucked them safely into her heart like a special flower pressed in a book, to be brought out later and treasured.

The girl was talking in her sleep. Not mumbling unintelligibly, but talking aloud. He had the sense that she was talking to him in the dream, or that she was only half-asleep and talking to the real him. Either way it was rather eerie.
"Dreams. I carry them inside me like a million swords. Razor-edged dreams, turning the sky red. They shine...like stars."
Was she asleep? She couldn't really be saying weird stuff like that consciously, could she?
"You don't see the power. You won't look at them. Why won't you see?"
She paused, as though waiting for him to reply.
"I know. It's madness. It's all madness. But that's what I'm here for, don't you get it?"
Suddenly she cried out as if torn in the depths of her being, a terrible sound, not at all suited to this room. He was listening, mostly but not completely awake, to her sleep-ramblings, and the cry startled him such that he scrambled away and almost fell out of his own bed.
She had screamed herself awake, and was just as startled. "I'm sorry," she said softly when she got her bearings.
The dream had frightened her. He supposed that he should comfort her, but, since she had frightened him too, he didn't think she deserved it. They looked at one another uncertainly. She turned away, guilty of having interrupted his long-needed sleep, fighting away the nightmare memory. A red sky full of stars, a sense of destiny beyond her power to endure.
It was dawn. Red-gold light tinged the pink room, promising baleful weather later, but particularly beautiful at the moment. When she turned to him again, her eyes were of course heavy with untold emotion. She reached out to run caressing fingers through a lock of crimson silk. In the dim light filtered by the pink curtains, it was a color deeper than heart's blood, more brilliant than Anthy's best red roses, the most terrible beautiful color imaginable.
"Your hair...is the color of my dreams," she whispered.
He took pity on her then, and held her. "Dreams that color are dangerous."
"You say that like I don't know." Was this for real, did he care about her at all? Did it make any difference, so long as she was with him?
When the answer was yes, there was a difference, then she would bleed for it.
As he drifted off again it was easy to forget the name and face of the warm body in his arms. It was someone pure, and true to him above all else, and in the haze of near sleep he could almost pretend it was....