Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own it... and all that jazz. Wait. Jazz? This is ballet!
Vignette Thirteen: Not Yet Dead
Anteaterina (I believe her name was Arakumiko in the Japanese ver.) was a determined ballerina. She was always practicing to be the best, always striving to surpass her secret rival. Rue-san, if she could just beat Rue-san and make it into the advanced class...
Her dreams of stardom as a prima ballerina danced before her eyes as she practiced the pas she planed to use for her by-weekly test. Rue-san was the best, there for to surpass Rue was to be better than the best, to be the number one Prima Donna.
The sudden opening of the practice room door interrupted her thoughts.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Said the raven-haired boy upon seeing her. "I didn't know anyone else was in here." He turned to leave.
"Wait a moment." Anteaterina extended her paw. This boy was one of the transfer students; he was in the advanced class with Rue-san. If she could get him to dance a pas de deux with her then her admission into the advanced class would be a given. She would be that much closer to her goal, to her dream. "You're names Hoffnung-san, right?"
He inclined his head in a sight nod. The motion was so subtle, so calculated it made him seem regal, like a Prince. "And you're Anteaterita."
"We could share the practice room. Goodness knows it's big enough." She spread her arms wide to emphasize her point. "And I don't know about you, but I could use some company."
A wicked grin spread over Hoffnung's face, Anteaterita interpreted it as a friendly smile. "Alright." He entered the room fully and closed the door behind him.
S
P
A
C
E
Autor watched the sun spread it's crimson light over the Kinkon Town sky line as it set. Hoffnung was late. The adolescent sadist had told him to meet at the clock tower at sun down. All right, so the sun hadn't completely set. So he was a little early. He still expected his megalomaniac master to be here. It wasn't like he had anything else to do today, well, anything else besides doing what ever it was he was going to do to Princess Tutu. Not that he could do much anyway, what with his innards all scrambled like they were.
Autor sighed deeply and leaned against the story machine. What was he doing? Helping an evil, sadistic teenager with a "Daddy Hug Me" Complex... and he used to think of himself as a genius. Yeah. Real smart idea this was. Now he was betraying his friend, helping destroy the happiness of the one woman he'd ever truly loved and not to mention upsetting his home town's reality once again. But the worst thing was that now he had gotten himself into a position where he couldn't change anything. The story had to run it's course, if anyone could save the situation it was Fakir. But he seemed to be struggling with his own personal problems and now had Hoffnung plotting his downfall on top of it.
The entrance of said plotting Raven interrupted his thoughts. The ebony prince entered through the window, as usual, and landed in a plie in front of Autor.
"You look better." The musician commented. "Still not using door, I see." He just had to make the comment. It wouldn't be a fan fiction if he didn't.
"I don't believe in them. Doors are just another way to keep people out." The logic didn't quite don on Autor, but 60 percent is always lost in translation (as anime fans well know). "And I'm feeling much better. Thank you for noticing. I dinned on a charming girl from the ballet class... huh... I can still call her a girl even if she's not human, right? She may have been an anthropomorphic ant eater but she was still female."
"Uh..." Autor sputtered. "I... uh... don't think it matters."
"Ah, well..." He shrugged his black-feathered shoulders. "We best be getting to work then." He grabbed Autor by the wrist and fluttered the both of them up into the mass of cogwheels that was the inside of the story.
He touched down on the cog that was surrounded by all the puppets on strings and released Autor. The poor by staggered for a moment before tripping over the poppet they had removed to make room for Mytho and left carelessly on the ground.
"Bring that." Hoffnung ordered as he climbed back to his feet. "I need it for my plan. And hold this to, while you're at it." He passed him a copy of Drosslemyer's "The Prince and the Raven".
"Why th...?"
"All in due time." The ebony Prince strode over to where Mytho was strung up on puppet strings. "Hello, Father."
"Mytho." It was half statement and half question. 'You need Mytho to get rid of Fakir.' and 'Why do you need him to get rid of Fakir?'
"Yes, Mytho." The former protagonist mocked from his hanging position. "You couldn't possibly have forgotten about me already, have you? Sure I've been off stage for far to long..." (He glared pointedly at the fic author) "...but I'm still instrumental in everyone's evil plans! I'm always instrumental in evil plans." The last part was said under his breath so only you readers could hear.
"I didn't mean..."
"That's right, Father, you're going to help me get rid of you best friend and former roommate." He grinned maliciously. "Autor, open the book and tare out the page where the knight dies."
"But Fakir's not the knight anymo..."
"Do as I say!"
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and obeyed. Leafing through the pages he stopped on the one with an image depicting a knight in full body armor being torn in two by an enormous black talon that was meant to represent the Raven. He gave the page an experimental tug, then pulled a little harder when he was sure his tearing wouldn't damage the picture and the page was ripped free from the book's binding.
"Hold onto that for me." Hoffnung said when the page was extended to him. He then turned back to Mytho. "Now then, for your part, Father..." He plucked a single dark feather from his costume and transfigured it into a scalpel. "Your heart's already in two pieces, a few more shouldn't hurt... much!"
That said he began his surgery.
S
P
A
C
E
Several agonizing hours latter Mytho finally fell unconscious, letting the dark oblivion of the comma claim him. That was when Hoffnung finally found the feeling he was looking for. Wrenching it free from the rest of the gem that was his father's heart he withdrew the shard from his chest.
"What now?" Asked a thoroughly creeped-out Autor.
Hoffnung didn't answer, he merely picked up the poppet from it's place on the floor and grabbed the page from Autor's hands. "Just watch."
He placed the paper over the puppet's chest and stabbed the shard into it, pinning the piece of the story to the spot where the doll's heart should be. Hoffnung stepped back just as it was swept up in a cloud of dark blue and gray shoujo sparkles with random specks of silver blinking here and there.
What rose from the cloud seconds later was not a puppet, not a doll, but a man of flesh and blood. A man with long dark hair and piercing green eyes. A man whom looked exactly like Fakir.
"How do you feel, Knight?" Asked Hoffnung.
"I feel..." Stiff, like I've been laying on a brass wheel for weeks. Confused, 'cause I was just born a second ago. "... resentful! Where is the one that stole my role and then failed to protect my Prince?"
Hoffnung grinned his wicked grin and extended his hand to the Knight but said nothing.
As he and the knight were leaving Autor walked up beside them and whispered in the ebony Prince's ear: "What do you want me to do with the other pieces?" He jerked his head back to indicate the other heart shards that Hoffnung had removed in his search for the one Knight now carried.
"Leave them for now." He replied. "I'll need Princess Tutu to put them back."
S
P
A
C
E
The best thing about living with Retzel and Hanz in the house was that breakfast was always ready by the time he got down stairs in the mornings. The worst thing about living with Retzel and Hanz was the Karon was always retreating in to the forge whenever Retzel was present. This meant the he was almost always absent from breakfast and Fakir deeply missed his godfather's presence at mealtime. That was why he'd taken the initiative today to personally drag Karon out of his self-imposed exile and force him to socialize with the family.
The old blacksmith raised his head when he heard the door to the forge open and close without any knock for permission.
"Morning." Fakir said sheepishly.
"Guten morgan." replied Karon before returning to his work. To Fakir's mild surprise, he was not hammering formless scraps of metal into something resembling anything, but was instead polishing a very old sword. A sword Fakir knew well, the Lohengrin Sword. Fakir bit his lower lip as he was reminded of just how useless he had been as a knight. How useless he still felt even as a writer.
"What are you doing with that?" He hoped it sounded casual enough.
"I thought I'd display it in the shop." He held it up to examine the finely polished shine it now had. "Although I didn't make it, I thought it'd be good advertising for the shop. 'See the famous Sword of Lohengrin.' Or something. What do you think?"
Fakir was quiet for a moment; his eyes were tracing the familiar lines of the hilt. Finally, he said in a flat voice: "Do as you please." And left the room.
S
P
A
C
E
It was Ahiru's first day in the normal ballet class, she had left the dorms early that morning to avoid any chance of being late and was now sitting alone in an empty studio. She sighed in resignation. Even when she was being responsible she was still a klutz. At least now she couldn't be docked for being late. Another sigh.
Well if she was going to be this early she could at least be more productive. After all, now that she was back in the normal class she was determined to stay there. The best thing to do with this extra time then, was to practice. As the old Neko-sensei used to say: "The first rule in ballet is to practice. The second is also Practice. The third: Practice!"
With his voice and those words in her mind she stood up and walked over to the bar.
(Some time passes, but not enough to merit a "S P A C E")
So absorbed in her dancing was she, that she failed to notice Madam Cat enter the studio, and thus was quite startled when she commented on her form.
"Very nice, Miss Ahiru." The pink princess spun around to see her feline teacher standing in the center of the room with her legs crossed in a pliet and her arms like wise crossed over her chest. "I admire your determination and passion for the art." A gentle smile spread over her furry face. "But I'm afraid we won't be dancing today. Instead we're going on a field trip to the Kinkon Ballet Theater to see a production choreographed by…" a dark aura seemed to surround Madam Cat, "… choreographed by my ex-husband."
"Ah… I see." Her ex-husband, thought the day dreamy duck girl, I wonder who that could be…
"Go change back into your school uniform, Miss Ahiru." Ordered the peeved professor.
"Y-yes, Ma'am!" She rushed for the door.
"And, Miss Ahiru…" Madam Cat stopped her. "If you are late meeting up with the rest of the group I shall have my ex-husband marry you!"
S
P
A
C
E
Ah, fieldtrips. The last time Rue had been on one was when Neko-sensei had taken them to see a production of Sleeping Beauty by a traveling ballet troop. It had been a good performance up until the point where Mytho, whom had been sitting next to her, suddenly jumped to his feet and cried out in horrible pain and fear. That had been when Princess Tutu had returned his shard of fear.
But that wasn't likely to happen this time. First of all, Mytho wasn't here. Secondly, if he were here his heart would be complete except for hope. At least, she thought it would be complete. Who knows what else Hoffnung might do in his frustration over failing (repeatedly).
Rue was startled out of her thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. She spun around to see Fakir standing in the group of ballet students gathering for the trip.
"Hey." He said.
"Oh, hi. What are you doing here?" She asked in blatant confusion. "You're not a ballet student any more."
"Yeah." He jerked his head at an older man on the other side of the crowd. "OC-sensei said that this ballet was supposed to be a perfect example of old fairy tales and legends influencing modern story telling. And that we could, as writers, benefit from seeing it. So it seems I'll be accompanying you on this trip."
She giggled behind her hand. "Well, I can't think of a more agreeable escort than you, Fakir."
"Is that sarcasm?"
Another giggle.
"Ah, what's so funny?" Fakir's heart jumped into his throat at the sound of Ahiru's innocently inquisitive voice. "I wanna hear the joke too. Come on, Fakir, what'd you say?"
Gosh, could she be any cuter? "We were just discussing how much of a klutz you were." He teased.
"Fakir!" Rue scolded.
Ahiru was about to reply with a well-aimed barb of her own when Madam Cat strolled out of the main building and clapped her paws together for silence.
"Alright, everyone." She began. "This is our first outing of the new term, so I want you all on your best behavior. Remember that the manner in which you conduct yourselves is a reflection on the school and, as you teacher, a reflection on me as well. So-" a dark and menacing aura surrounded the feline ballet instructor –"if you do anything to embarrass me to day I SHALL have my ex-husband marry you! Except for the boys in the literary class." She added as an after thought. "They only reflect poorly on the school."
He speech complete she lead the group in a mass exodus from the Academy wall and out into the city beyond.
S
P
A
C
E
Autor, not being in either the Literary or Ballet classes was not permitted to attend the field trip and spent the morning and subsequent day in the library writing a rather boring essay comparing the ballet Coppelia to the short story off of which it was based: "Der Sandman" by E. T. A. Hoffman. And so his part shall not be recounted to you in this fiction. Should you wish to read of Autor's boring exploits in the library please send your request to this e-mail:
fakeoldeman thebookmen .org
Or you may contact us at (xxx) 555-1234
Thank You
S
P
A
C
E
Madam Cat's ex-husband was kind and obliging enough to meet them at the main entrance of the Kinkon Ballet Theater. The moment he stepped into view her fur stood on end and her elegant tail puffed out to over twice its size. But she was determined not to make a spectacle of herself and thus greeted him politely.
Like wise, the moment he stepped into view Ahiru, Fakir and Rue all let out identical gasps.
Neko-sensei! Mr. Cat!
Madam Cat's ex-husband was none other than their first ballet instructor from the first story of the Prince and the Raven. Well, it made since. After all, was she not threatening them with marriage to him, the same way he himself used to threaten?
"If you would all follow me." Said the former ferry feline mentor. "I shall show you to the seats that have been set aside for you." He led them through the great double doors of the theater and down the hall to the second tier balcony. "Not so close that you're sitting in the so called 'crotch seats' but not so far as to where can't see a thing." He explained.
Neko-sensei stood to one side as the student's filed into their seats one by one. Once every one was seated he made one final statement. "And, should any of you talk or in any way disturb the performance I shall have you marry me!" He raised his voice with such conviction, it so much more convincing than when Madam Cat said it.
S
P
A
C
E
The story was a simple one. The ballet chronicled the exploits of a Knight whom was charged with the task of protecting a Prince. In act one, however, the Knight fails in his duty and is left for dead. His replacement then tries to protect the noble Prince, whom apparently is a magnet for trouble, but fails over and over again. While the first Knight desperately tries to restore his honor and save his beloved Prince. Thus ends act one.
"Hey Fakir." Ahiru leaned over to him the moment the House lights were raised for the intermission. "Did you notice that the guy they got playing the Knight looks a lot like you?"
He did not meet her eye when he replied: "I hadn't noticed." He had.
"I think it's a little suspicious." Rue interjected her opinion into the conversation. "Not only did the lead dancer mirror our own Fakir, but that story was a blatant rip off of the Knight's role in the 'Prince and the Raven' story."
"Weird." Agreed our pink Princess.
Fakir remained silent. He was preoccupied thinking. As a true Knight should be. That had been the line he'd written about himself. Could he have inadvertently created another version of himself by accident?
Fin for now…
Thanx to all for reading this. Sorry for it taking so long. My computer was busted for a while and then I had to actually get down to writing. That was the more time-consuming part… heh… heh… heh…