Rhapsody Theorem [ chapter 5 ]

Disclaimers: Revolutionary Girl Utena belongs to Be-papas and Chiho Saitoh.

Warnings: Everybody will be OOC, drug-addicts, and raving lunatics. Lots of rambling and surreal-ness, half of the fanfic might not make any sense. Rated NC-17.

Rants: This takes place after Utena 'escapes' from the TV-series Ohtori. What exactly happened after the million-sword-stabbing-her-body incident that Kunihiko Ikuhara effectively (and frustratingly) blacks out upon? Well... this is one take (and highly unlikely). In progress.

"Do you think they're having fun?"

Chu.

"I think they might be."

Chu.

"You don't think so?"

Chu.

"How would you know?"

Chu.

"You don't."

Chu.

"You do."

Chu Chu.

"I see."

It wasn't too late, but late enough. Maybe around 11:30 at night. There was nobody in the streets below, and the stairways seemed deserted as well, even though she was sure there should have been some students doing it vertically with the people they had met on the streets that night. It was the weekend, after all. And only half-past eleven, Utena reminded herself. Never mind, the stairs would be deserted, since most people in the building didn't get back until three or four in the morning. She was considered one of the early ones, and it had been her choice to do so.

Why hadn't she taken the elevator? She lived on the top floor.

There was an elevator? No... yes...

She had ordered their seafood pasta. And it wasn't as bad as Jerry had said it would be. But then again, Jerry would know. She lived at the top of the circles, rode on clouds that were too high up for her own human eyes to observe. It was someplace she couldn't get to, not because she wasn't rich or trained or anything like that-- it was just something different about Jerry.

Juri.

She shook her head wearily.

It had been good, it had been a wonderful dinner. She had enjoyed her bread, her butter, her salad, her appetizers, her soup, her entree, her dessert. She had enjoyed hearing Jerry's smooth voice glide over her like water over river rocks as she talked about things she didn't understand, politics, law, her latest cases-- or was it that she didn't want to understand them? Utena was ignorant like that. It made her feel stupid, at times, but maybe that was the way she was meant to be.

Void of any knowledge.

And Jerry had talked to her, peering over at her with an appreciative eye that Utena didn't entirely refute, no matter what level her disgust had been at the time that a woman, a woman, for fuck's sake, had probably been undressing her mentally in her eyes and wondering what sort of a bed partner she was. Maybe she had been pale with this realization, maybe she had blushed. But it had been dim in the restaurant, the main light being the two candles at their table, appropriately romantic.

It wasn't a date, Utena told herself. It wasn't it wasn't it wasn't.

And then something whispered inside her, asked her, what would you do if it was a man?

Utena had found herself at a loss for words.

Then Jerry had asked for the bill, and Utena looked down at her hands in her lap as the waiter came over to present it to them, and Jerry paid in cash, throwing the paper things away like they were nothing, as Utena watched out of the corner of her eye. And Jerry knew she was watching, and perhaps, that was why she did it... as a display of wealth and power, perhaps. She had felt ashamed, ashamed that Jerry had caught her staring, had caught her temptation.

Temptation meaning that yes, I would like to be with you, even if it is only for your money.

But even if she was worthless and penniless and a struggling student trying to come to terms with the position in life she was going to occupy, it didn't mean that she had to be a gold miner like that whore was, only picking the pockets of those who were rich and not giving a damn about who they really were.

Who do you think you are?

They'd exited the restaurant, not hand-in-hand, not even mildly touching each other, even though Utena was sure Jerry would have liked it. But she didn't want to do it, for some reason. Maybe she just felt awkward. But still, she couldn't, even if she didn't care about anything else, not when there was--

"Utena?"

Peering up, the pink-haired girl realized she had already reached the top floor and was standing in front of her own dorm room and probably had been for some time, not bothering to open the door.

"You're up late." She managed to say, pushing her way past Anthy, and into the kitchen. The television was on, even though it seemed that nobody had been watching it. No, wait-- the mouse was there on the coffee table, curled up in a ball and fast asleep.

It was an advertisement for jewelry, a thin silver chain with a small bell at the end.

"Doug called." Anthy said, closing the door as Utena stepped out of her shoes. "He told her that he wouldn't be coming back tonight."

"So he's being responsible now, calling to announce a change in curfew." Utena said, throwing her jacket in the direction of the couch, where it landed on the floor. Unfazed, Anthy walked over and placed it on the coat hanger.

"How was your evening?"

Utena paused, not wanting around to face her. The question was stated so that it was casual, so that it was just a polite and arbitrary question anybody would ask if you had come home from a night out. And that was it, maybe.

"She asked about you." She replied, and then walked to the bathroom when she received no answer.

It was true.

They had gotten back in the car, and Jerry had started the engine, and they had made small talk about movies and the entertainment industry, even though Utena couldn't remember the names of any movies or actors and actresses she saw, just bits and pieces of storylines. Jerry had smiled at her again, now and then, and Utena had to repress the screams that were going to work their way up her throat just from feeling so insane when she was around the lawyer. She couldn't explain the feeling, she just couldn't, and she didn't want to admit anything, confess anything, not when it wasn't true.

It wasn't a bad sort of screaming that she wanted to voice. Maybe.

And then Jerry had dismissed the subject, ending it by saying that Utena was much more refined, somehow, than all those actors and actresses combined. And she had been shocked, because that, of all things to say, was totally out of character. Out of character for Jerry to say, and out of character for Utena because she just wasn't refined.

And she had voiced this reaction, quietly, subtly, and then Jerry shrugged again, a faint smile tugging the corner of her lips in amusement, and had replied that if Utena didn't think she was anything special, then her roommate certainly was.

Doug?

No, the dark-skinned one.

That was the second time Jerry had mentioned her, and Utena had struggled to not say anything about the subject, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. This was not jealousy. This was not ferocity, or envy, or pride.

This wasn't going to be about her.

She didn't know why she was so angry at the time. But she wasn't. Not now.

Reaching behind her back to undo the zipper, Utena stepped out of her dress and threw it on her unmade bed, throwing off the rest of her clothes as she made her way to the shower, turning the water on with a jerk and not caring if the water was cold, freezing, as it ran through her hair and down her face and over her body and her hands, which now hung limp at her sides.

Juri--

Who?

Juri had been like that too. Untouchable, unreachable, no matter how much Utena had wanted to understand her. Always so distant, shrouded in her own veil of wishes, things she wanted but she couldn't have. Eyes seemingly cold like the water but something else behind it, changing, always different, like water was, trusting a miracle that never came, trusting something, maybe someone, to take her somewhere else.

Who?

Maybe she didn't deserve to escape.

Escape from where?

She didn't know, couldn't remember.

Minnows.

What?

Watch them swim, look.

Oh.

Don't they turn quickly?

What?

They change direction in the water very fast.

They can.

I wish I could do that.

Do what?

Change direction like them. Without hesitation, without looking back.

But you do know that

they're useless outside of water.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she flopped back down on her sorry mistake for a bed, not caring if her dress crumpled beneath her. Her hair was wet and tangled, and it had been an exhausting day, hadn't it? In what way, she couldn't reason. All she did was go out for dinner and then talk, talk, and talk.

Pages rustled, and Utena blearily opened her eyes, turning her head to the source.

It was Anthy, of course, the only one who could be there. She was sitting up in her bed, covers drawn up to her knees, her hair let down as it always was. Green eyes were cast down, reading a book of some sort, but even from her position, Utena couldn't make out the title. It must be one of Doug's obscure books, Utena thought, shutting her eyes again, etching the scene into her head, and then opening them to look once more. One of Doug's books, those strange ones, about the way the mind works and the way the heart beats and the way the clock turns, things like that.

She wondered if that mouse was still outside, watching television in it's sleep.

And Anthy just looked so serene, so calm like that, eyes wide and interested as they read the letters of the words of the book on the page, comprehending it, and Utena wondered why she couldn't do that-- be absorbed in something as lifeless as a book, why she couldn't absorb it the way others could, the way Anthy was right now. Maybe, if she was somebody else, she could--

But Anthy was just herself.

Just herself.

The lamp on the nightstand gave the room a soft yellow glow, warm in feeling, like the candles at dinner. And it was comfortable, Utena thought, to just let her eyes laze on Anthy's dark hands, which were holding the book's worn cover, turning the worn pages. She didn't have to struggle to keep her eyes open, to keep her attention focused, like she had to do with Jerry. She didn't have to be alert for things unwelcome, unexpected-- because there wasn't anything that wasn't unwelcome, wasn't unexpected, in the room at the moment, in this little room in all the places in the world. It was just Anthy reading, reading some story, a fairy tale, maybe, about a Prince and a Princess, something like that.

"You'll catch a cold." Anthy said, drawing Utena out of her reverie. Anthy did not look up, she knew what the dangers of eye contact were. And suddenly Utena felt a tiny stab somewhere around where her heart was, and the blood rushing out of it and it made her dizzy, as if the world were going to topple over and leave her floating in space.

But it didn't, not for this tiny gesture.

"It doesn't matter," she found herself saying, cursing herself for mindlessly staring at Anthy for no reason at all, for thinking thoughts like she had. And she was too tired to argue, too tired to be frustrated, waste her voice hissing something she didn't mean, never meant.

You never meant it?

There was no reply-- Anthy didn't say anything as she got off the bed and walked to the direction of the doors. And Utena thought, this is it for tonight then, she's leaving it at that, she's not going to say anything more, not even anything about roses or that ridiculous prince that never existed.

But no, even as her eyes continued to stare in front of her, looking at the bed sheets and the yellow glow of the room, she heard those footsteps coming back, crossing the floor, and then her bed sank a little as somebody sat on it.

"Let me brush it for you."

Anthy caught her eye and smiled, timidly, as if she was afraid to do so, always gentle, patient. She looked down at the brush, and said in that quiet way of hers, "then you can go dry it. You have class tomorrow, you know."

Utena turned her head back again and sat up on the bed, not saying anything, because it was pointless to say it, no, I don't want you to brush my hair like I'm a little girl, only seven years old, because yes, she felt like a little girl, scared and young and vulnerable and like maybe this place right now, the bed she was sitting on, Anthy next to her, would disappear in a moment and drop her off somewhere else on some strange, alien place where she wouldn't be able to understand what they were saying and nothing made sense.

It still didn't make sense, giving in.

What benefits were there to surrendering?

She felt the tugs on her scalp, the soothing, rhythmic pulls on her head and the gentle hands that weaved through her hair. Biting her lip as the brush encountered some knots, she heard Anthy's quiet apologies as it did, and knew the tears in her own eyes were caused by a different pain entirely.

Do you ever wonder why no one comes out after dark?

It's forbidden, isn't it?

But they break the rules anyway.

Nobody comes out after dark. I don't see anyone.

You go outside by yourself.

I do.

What do you see?

Nothing.

Do you think if many people went outside, there would be something worth seeing?

We'd see each other.

Is that notable?

"Good morning, Miss Tenjou."

Utena's head popped off the desk with a start. She had been listening. She just looked like she was sleeping. The other people in the class were turned around in their seats, their eyes set on her. Nonexistent gazes, indifferent gazes.

The professor's eyes held amusement, and he turned his back and walked back to the front of the room.

"Perhaps, Miss Tenjou, you can answer the question I presented to you all yesterday."

Question?

She blinked and looked to her right, where Doug was giving her a wide-eyed look, come on, it's easy.

Oh yeah, that question.

"Do you want it in essay-format?" She said, lazily, not quite awake yet.

"Only if you've written it out like that." Her professor replied.

"Which I haven't."

"Then proceed to ad-lib."

Utena rolled her eyes. The professor was a push-over. She could fail the class and still pass-- which was an oxymoron... but did it matter? No, not right now. Answer the question.

"Is it better to be beautiful or is it better to be plain?" She started, as if reciting a poem. "That's a rather stupid question, professor," she looked directly at him while saying this, "because everybody wants to be beautiful."

"And what other qualities are associated with beauty?" The professor smiled.

"It depends on what type of person you are. But vanity is a common characteristic, yes--"

Touga

"An ego, perhaps,"

Saionji

She blanched. Those names, again. But no, don't stop, keep going.

"But people look up to you, they admire you, they throng around you because you're beautiful,"

Touga

"And then you make others feel insignificant, insecure,"

Saionji

"Maybe you can lose somebody that way, perhaps friendships can be broken by a fortunate facial arrangement--"

She received a few snickers from this choice of words.

"But even through all that, if you're beautiful inside, then your beauty outside doesn't matter."

Did they accept each other, in the end?

In the END?

What END?

"I was hoping for something a bit more creative, Miss Tenjou." The professor replied after a while, polishing his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "Are you sure you didn't watch a B-grade tear-jerker movie last night so you could recite some 'love conquers all' cliché today?"

"That was mean of him." Utena sniffed after the class ended, walking out the door with Doug. "He didn't have to criticize my statement like that."

"I couldn't care less." Doug grinned. "Did you watch a B-grade movie after your date?"

Utena coughed. "Speaking of which, how was your night?"

"I know you're trying to change the topic, but I'll let that slide for now."

"Much obliged."

"Well, after I petted Anthy's mouse for a bit, and played dress-up--"

"You played dress-up??" Utena huffed. "Did she cross-dress?"

"She's too feminine." Doug brushed the idea aside with a wave with his hand. "I don't think she would cross-dress.

"And then I told her I'd be going out, and that I wouldn't be back." Doug looked a little ashamed, and Utena pretended not to notice.

"She said you called." She responded, dropping down on a bench and throwing her books next to her. Doug sat down with a little more grace, setting his books beside him. He crossed his legs and looked thoughtful.

"Well, I did that, too." He said after a while. "You see, I'm responsible now."

Utena scoffed. "Anyway."

"So then Syle came to pick me up."

"And then you had rampant sex at his place on his massive bed with vanilla-scented candles on the nightstand and then you did it some more in his bathtub which had lilac petals sprinkled on the water surface and blue food coloring."

Doug pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, we actually didn't. We went ice skating."

Utena blinked. "It's summer."

"The end of summer." Doug corrected. "That's why we have classes. That's why they have places called ice rinks, typically for people to ice-skate when it's NOT snowing outside and the temperature isn't below zero. Besides, do they serve hot chocolate over frozen ponds? I don't think so."

"My bad."

"And lilac petals with blue food coloring isn't his style. He would give me red rose petals with red food coloring." Doug mused some more, lost in his train of thought.

"You like red?"

"It's my hair color, isn't it?"

"You like red because it's the color of your hair? Loser."

"I like my hair!" Doug sniffed indignantly, punching Utena lightly on the arm.

"And you like Syle." Utena found herself saying. "So quit defending yourself and get on with your entertaining biography."

"That's about it."

Utena shook her head. "So it was a romantic sort of night, then?"

"I guess so. We cuddled, AND," Doug smiled proudly, "he let me go to sleep on time."

"Wonderful." Utena said, deadpan.

"What about you?"

Utena scowled. "I had dinner at an Italian place, went back home, washed my hair."

"That's it? The part where you wash your hair sounds pretty exciting." Doug raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," Utena said, burying her head in her hands, "it was."

You're not her.

Her?

The person I usually speak with.

That's right.

Who are you?

Somebody like you.

Similar?

Yes.

You've followed me out here?

No. I came before you.

Who are you?

A shadow.