'Cobwebs'
No one noticed the spiders in Ohtori.
They'd see the repetitive design of the roses, they'd notice the immense and towering school buildings, perhaps make a comment or two about how very tall that tower of the Chairman's was and if it was really quite necessary to have it so. The Duelists, of course, would notice just a bit more than the average student.
Touga, for instance, would notice how the Rose Garden was shaped and designed to look like a large, intricate birdcage. Saionji made his own tea when he'd been in possession of the Bride, as the tea she'd made had been bitter, with a faint aftertaste of something dusty and stale and sweet. Tasted like the scent of decaying perfume. Nanami had noticed how threatening and long the shadows from the forest would look, how they seemed to reach out for people and swallow them whole. She'd dismissed it as a silly fear, of course, but it was still very true. Miki had realized once that the afternoons in Ohtori seemed to curl out and stretch on, while the little hours of the morning and evening would snap by quickly. The watch timed the minutes, and he was surprised to see that they were all accurate, all told of a perfectly normal and ordered day. Of course, one could never trust the clocks in Ohtori, but how was he to know? And Juri, naturally, was too focused inward to truly concentrate on the outward, but even she noticed how the endless curving stairs of the Arena never made one tired or out of breath.
All little things, enough to crawl in the edge of the mind and huddle just out of sight, enough to lend a strange sort of paranoia to the thoughts, enough to make the vague hint that something, something was very wrong. Still, the spiders came and went, spinning webs through the kendo room, in lockers, in windowsills and dark corners of the school. Webs were thick in the bushes of the Rose Garden, interlaced between the thorns and stems and pale, velvet petals of the roses. Silver-white lace threaded in and out of every bush, and the spiders hung tapestries on the higher parts of the ceiling. No one saw, no one noticed, no one commented, and why would they? Spiders were common.
They wouldn't understand how the weaving of a web was so remarkably, so conveniently similar to the weaving of a spell. Couldn't understand how well the silk of spider webs held the magic in. Anthy would smile her witch's smile as she knitted and wove and moved among the minds of the billions of insects in Ohtori, directing them, leading them as she reworked her masterpiece.
And Utena would never ask why, every night, Anthy would weave a small mat of pale white and silver embroidery thread while they had their tea.