"Adolescence Post-Apocalypse"
Three
"Another Story and You Could've Been a Heroine and It Could Have Been a Fairytale"
Utena made it her mission to use the perilous narrow path leading to the decaying playground as her exercise route. That way, she could make it to heaven several times a day. Each day, she went outside, hoping that when she reached the playground, he'd be there.
He wasn't. He didn't come back.
Over time, the crutches gave way to the cane. She learned to walk once again, and took to roaming the grounds around the Convent, discovering its boundaries, exploring the nooks and crannies that had formed over the many years it seemed to have stood. She learned that the Convent itself was indeed ringed completely by the dead trees and their intertwined, thorny branches. Just to see where she could have been brought in from (which was another way of saying where he could have come in from), she spent days taking brief forays into the forest. She never ventured too far, careful never to lose sight of the convent, but no matter where she went, in which direction, there seemed to be no end in sight. She didn't dare risk going far enough to get herself lost, unsure if the nuns would find her a second time, or if they'd even bother.
Thus Utena returned to familiar grounds, head down and something stirring inside her. Longing for things she couldn't remember, that she hated longing for. What was the point? It was like having a song stuck in your head, a song you couldn't remember and couldn't ask or learn about. The irritating splinter in her mind, turning with gusto, kept telling her that there was a collection of things somewhere, maybe in another place, that used to be who she was.
Used to be.
Now, they were just more, this time invisible, scars for the monster she saw in the mirror every time she looked at it.
Finally the day came when the cane, too, went away. The strange thing about that was that she had gotten up in the morning, went to the bathroom to wash up as usual... and only when she had returned to her room to get dressed that she had seen the cane propped up against her bed. It was just standing there like a forgotten relic, having outlived its relevance.
She looked down, at her feet. She wiggled her toes. Yes, she was standing, at last, without the support. Standing on her own. She got dressed with a smile on her face, all the while curiously glancing at the cane, as if it would come to life and strike her, tell her that she was just a stupid girl (stupid, stupid Utena) for ever daring to think she'd walk on her own.
That didn't happen. When it didn't, Utena hurried out of the room, enjoying the sensation of having her weight supported by nothing but herself. She found her way to the doors leading to the courtyard and got out. Not even the monochrome skies and the dead trees could kill the joy she felt at being able to just be at that point.
On the first step down, however, her joy was smothered by a sudden, crippling pain. She realized that, silly her, she had tried to walk down like a normal person would. She wasn't normal. She was miles and miles from normal and doubted she'd ever get to be there again.
So she descended carefully, one step at a time, determined still to repeat her earlier feat of reaching the playground, this time without aid.
With the recovery of her legs, Utena found herself restless in a matter of days. Used to be that going anywhere, even to the bathroom was enough of a journey that it didn't matter she was traversing the vast expanse of ten feet. But now, she stood on her own, wiggled her toes (just to make sure they were there) and two columns of scarred flesh could get her where she wanted to go.
The question then became: where did she want to go?
Utena took to exploring the Convent's interior. She first discovered that she couldn't walk for extended periods of time. She began mapping out the place she had seen very little of during her months there, ten minutes at a time. She found the Convent plain and blank. The patterns on the tiles, the high arches, the lines on the columns all seemed to fade into an indistinct mess, belonging to nowhere.
She would often come across the nuns' rooms and stumble in. Their faces obscured, they'd ask her, gently, if she needed anything. Utena would shake her head and blush. She felt like a child in those moments.
Quickly, and even quicker as she regained her stamina, the Convent ceased being remotely interesting. Utena ventured outside once more. On the day that she did, she expected to find the siege of trees, the dull gray skies, the lifeless, decaying playground. Those things were there, to be sure, but they weren't the only.
Touga was waiting for her.
Utena noticed that he was carrying a pair of thin, long, black cases in his right hand.
"Hello." He said with a smile, "I see you're past the crutches."
Utena stood there, hands folded behind her back. She wasn't sure whether she should be angry, curious, relieved, or tense. It seemed like she was all three in that moment, but she was certain that her face didn't give anything away, as he was stuck glaring at her.
"Hi." She said, "You came back."
"I said I would."
"What took you so long?"
His face darkened.
"I got lost."
"All this time?"
"Yes."
"You're serious."
Utena sighed and sat down on the steps. Touga joined her, setting the cases down beside him. When he glanced at her, she felt the pang of self-consciousness again. A tank top and tight shorts, and scars upon scars. She wondered just how disgusted he was at her disfigurement. She didn't know, as he didn't say anything.
"So, where do you live?" Utena asked.
"Where do I live?"
"You know all about me, even things I don't know. But I only know your name. It's not fair."
"I inherited my parents' home." Togua said, "I live there with my sister."
"What's your sister like?"
"A pain in the ass." Touga chuckled, "Don't tell her I said that. Truth is, she's a wonderful person. I just wished she knew that sometimes."
"But where is your home?"
"Ohtori City." He said, "It's not that far from here, but it's still quite a ways away."
"Is it nice there?"
"I suppose. But everywhere's the same, don't you think?"
Utena raised an eyebrow.
"Because it doesn't matter where you are," Touga continued, "So long as you are somewhere."
Utena didn't know how to take that. She knew that she certainly was somewhere, but she wasn't sure where. Ohtori City (was that what he had said?) seemed to be more grounded than the anonymous Convent that had been generous enough to house her. Yes, she had shelter, but she didn't have a home.
"Are you going to leave again?"
"Yes. But I will be back."
"I'll hold you to that."
Touga smiled.
"You know what?" he said, "Let's play Prince."
Utena half-smiled, dumbstruck. Was he serious?
"What?" he asked, "That's why I brought these." He pointed at the cases.
"To play a game?"
"We used to play it all the time." He said, "The Prince and the would-be usurper. The revolutionary."
No matter what else, she couldn't deny that she was curious... and afraid. She didn't know where that second one had come from, but then again, when did she ever?
"What are the rules?" she asked.
The rules, it turned out, were strange. He had these plastic roses, one of which he pinned to her chest. The scenario would be simple: she would be the Prince, and he would be the (would-be) Usurper. They would duel (or play-duel, she figured) and the duel wasn't to the death – it was until one knocked the rose off the other's chest or someone yielded. Whoever won, would inherit the prince's castle, which, Utena guessed, the Convent would have to be substituted for. Same difference.
"But why am I the Prince?" she asked, "Girls can't be princes."
"Sure they can."
"I don't think so. I'd rather be a revolutionary, anyway."
"Why?"
"This is not my castle."
Touga didn't argue. He pinned his own rose, red, to his handkerchief pocket. As Utena was only wearing her black tank top, he opted to pin hers low on one of the straps. He then couched and opened the cases, pulling out two bokken, both in pristine shape. As soon as he presented to her with one, a sharp pain shot through her body – from her back towards her stomach. She doubled over, barely holding back a scream. She opted for a snarl through clenched teeth as Touga carefully placed one hand on her back. She didn't look at him, knowing full well what he'd look like.
"I'm alright." She said, "This happens a lot."
"We can just sit down, if you wish."
"No." she said, "This pain is nothing. Let's play the game."
"Are you sure?"
Utena forced a smile. The pain wasn't excruciating by any means, but it was too familiar... too cold.
"Afraid you'll lose?"
Touga took his cue and took his place.
Utena found out that she wasn't very good at this. It wasn't the difficulty she had moving still – her body could do very basic things, but her muscles weren't too strong. The hollow body of the bokken felt like a sack of bricks. Swinging it required too many muscles to move in perfect coordination, and as such, she was awkward, jerky and was certain she looked like a little girl imitating the games she thought adults were playing. She felt like she was swinging a stick and making believe it was a sword – a hopeless revolutionary facing an all powerful prince with no real skill.
Touga, for his part, didn't do much of anything. He mostly evaded her sorry little blows, only making contact once or twice. Not too long in, Utena could feel that familiar ache starting to spread across her body. Her arms were all stiff, her shoulders and upper back were cramping up, and the roots of her hair were already drenched.
Utena then tried her hand at a halfway decent strike, a last-ditch effort. She pulled the bokken back and jabbed it forward. Touga gently deflected it and with one move, brought the tip of his bokken right on top of her rose.
But he didn't take it.
Utena's hands spasmed for an instant and her bokken dropped. Touga picked it up. He put the weapons away and took off his rose. Utena waited for him to take hers too, but again, he didn't.
"Keep it." He said, "I'll be back for it."
A sudden fear washed over Utena, and she found herself wishing desperately for him to not leave. Stay, she wanted to say, her own thoughts surprising her with their urgency, stay with me.
"I'll be back in two days." He said.
"Yeah, right." She said.
"I promise. I'm a man of my word."
He left without another word. Utena went back inside to tune into the radio, perchance to find something interesting.
The Prince's story wasn't on. She shut it off and tried to sleep.
Utena's first thought the next morning was push-ups and pull-ups. She would need to build up some upper body strength, she figured – she already was at a disadvantage by being (and why do I have to be?) a girl. Besides, she knew she had forgotten it – she had built up her legs and lower back, but not her arms. So after her breakfast, she turned the radio to a dead channel and got down to it.
She managed only two push-ups, and on the third, her body started screaming at her to stop. She paused. Maybe regular push-ups were too much to start with. It was her breasts, she figured, the scarred flesh making them all the more excessive, that added the extra weight.
Utena recalled walking – from nothing at all to forgetting the cane. She went about doing assisted push-ups and pull-ups with a chair, where she used the chair to raise herself up to the conveniently spacious frame of her door and lowered herself down. It all took about ten minutes, left her drenched in sweat, the muscles used aching and with a sense that it would take some time to successfully become the prince who'd defend his castle.
The radio flared to life just as she sat down on the bed, with the familiar introductory music of the show she had been waiting to catch.
"Have you heard? Have you heard?"
"Have you heard the news?"
"The search for the long-lost prince continues."
"Not anymore! The prince has been found!"
"Hooray! Let the kingdom rejoice! Let there be much celebration and feasting!"
"But there is a slight problem."
"Wha? But the fireworks are already lit!"
"The prince has been lost and isolated for so long, that he can't just come out of hiding and join the world again."
"Fireworks! Fireworks!"
"The prince must be helped, if he is ever to return. Alas, such is the fate of those who have lost their way."
"Somebody call the fire department!"
"All the prince needs now is a sword," the sound of a "sword" being pulled out of its sheathe followed, "And, en-guarde!"
"Hey! You cut the fuses! We're saved! The kingdom is safe again!"
"The kingdom's been safe since the prince has been found! Haven't you heard?"
"Haven't you heard? Haven't you heard? Haven't you heard the news?"
"Wait, did you say found?"
The broadcast cut away to the piano piece, and Utena turned off the radio.