Ahiru's POV

I was dreaming peacefully when the noise of constant thumping of Fakir's shoes down the wooden stairs startled me and woke me up.

He yelled at the top of his lungs. "AHIRU! Don't you know when to keep quiet?!" Not fair. I was sleeping!

"Quack!" I asked him what was wrong, pleading to know with my eyes, but he could not bring himself to have contact. Even if he had looked at me, merely gave me a glance, I think he still wouldn't understand. I then realized where I stood in his life, then.

He closed his eyes impatiently and continued, "There it goes again! The incessant quacking of yours has sunk into my head. This is not a proper place to write; I'm going for a walk…" He trailed off.

Before I could respond, the door was slammed shut violently. I stood up from the woven basket that Charon made for me. He didn't say anything when Fakir took me in his care, even though he forgot everything that happened when I turned human. He figured it must have been his hormones.

I stretched my frail feathers out weakly as I watched five of my plumage float slowly to the floor. I sighed inwardly. I couldn't understand why my feathers were falling out easily all of a sudden and why I got so tired all the time.

I started to venture up those horrid stairs and instantaneously my back ached. It took a while for me to walk up those stairs.

Finally, after I got up the stairs, what Fakir called a hyper girl, couldn't get up the fifteen stairs in just two minutes. I did it in twenty.

I squeezed myself through the open crack in Fakir's room. I've grown so accustomed to Fakir's room that I could walk around with my eyes closed without hitting anything. Besides, it wasn't like he had something there to humor me. All there was in there were his basic needs: a bed, a candle, and a chest to hold his clothes. The only thing that appealed to me was his bookshelf. I loved the way he read to me, with much eloquence. His voice was like honey when he read, despite his usual cold-hearted, snappy attitude.

I flapped up onto the wooden desk, losing a feather in the process. There was a familiar book set upon it, Romeo and Juliet, to which Fakir always recited to me each time it was the defeat of the Raven's anniversary. It was nearing the third.

I remembered so vividly that day but no one else did, except Fakir, Mytho, and Rue. No one recalled me as a friend, as a ballet student, and nobody, I repeat, nobody, recalled me as a friend. I bet even Fakir didn't even retain my human look. My picture was fading.

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Fakir's POV

I was confused for a second as I glanced around the lake and I couldn't find Ahiru, in her usual place, swimming in the water. Of course, I left her back at home. That was a big mistake. Ahiru was getting weaker and weaker by the days and I couldn't see what was happening to her.

That scene back there at the lake house, which I now called home for Ahiru and me, was just me worrying about her. It was wrong to go off at her like that, I know, but I was so frustrated why she was getting so sick. I couldn't stop thinking about her.

I knew I couldn't write about her to change her life but regardless, I picked up my quill, dipped it in ink, and made a worthless attempt to get something down on paper. Even if I could, there was nothing coming to mind at the moment. Nothing I could change between us…

The ink dripped from the quill, staining the snow-white paper as I held it propped over the paper. Then I stabbed the paper and the midnight-black ink splashed on the paper. Scrutinizing it closer, it resembled the scar across my chest. I looked away. Once somebody saw that scar, it immediately made them defensive. I didn't like that.

I thought of Ahiru. Seeing that scar for herself, she never got like that. Instead, she smiled as if it weren't there.

As I was going to crumple a perfectly wasted paper, I noticed that the ink wasn't moving downwards, but up. I was shocked for a second, but it was hard for me to stay like that. I once believed that the impossible could never happen. Once.

The ink swooshed around to make a whirl and set in its rightful place. The ink made words that read,

Hello Fakir. Long time, no see.

"What the hell is happening?" I muttered out loud to myself, just enough for only me to hear. Or so I thought.

Don't you know your own grandfather, boy…? And me, too-zura!

"Drosselmeyer-san? Uzura-chan? What are you doing here? Well…why are you even…writing to me?"

The letters swished around to make even smaller letters but a bigger text.

What? I can't talk to my own grandson. Well, never mind about that. There is a problem I have with you… and Ahiru.

I growled. "Of course; I should have known it was you. You're the reason why she's always so tired. What are you going to do to her? Are you planning to give her a devastating ending or whatnot again?"

No, no. I just want the best for you two. Together.

I snorted. "Coming from the man who gave her a bad ending. Besides, what do you mean, together? It is perfectly clear that I do not like that clumsy, ditzy who talks excessively. And to make matters worse, she's a DUCK." I lied through my teeth.

You recognize that imperfections in her so that you can convince yourself that you don't like her. But the fact that she's a duck can be changed…

My eyes widened in horror. "Wha… What do you mean 'that can be changed'? Drosselmeyer-san? Uzura-chan?" Terribly, the ink the swish around like before. Oh, no.

I violently shoved the papers off my lap and ran as fast as I could to the lake house. Damn, why did it have to be all the way around this big pond?

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Ahiru's POV

My head was nodding off while watching Fakir get exasperated over a measly piece of paper. Why was he so boring to watch…?

Finally, after hopeless attempts to keep myself awake, I fell asleep.

I was somewhat in a dream. I couldn't say that it was a nightmare, but it was much of a dream either. My vision was blurred.

I dreamt that I was dancing the pas de deux alone, and that I was a girl. How peculiar. I haven't even thought about that day since now. But when I tried to speak, no words would come out. I was in a familiar place, with the name at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I danced on top of a gear, in murky waters, yet I could breathe easily. I could barely see anything.

A gear appeared in front of me and out came a recognizable man with the rusty red cloak and the geisha-like puppet who taps her drum.

"Why, why, it's Ahiru! How I've missed you so!" He exclaimed in mock surprise.

My mouth was ajar, but I still couldn't bring myself to talk.

"Wondering why you can't talk?" He chortled, clutching at his chest. Oh, no. How is he doing this? Unless…

"I'm still the author of this story! The story still lives even though the author has died! It doesn't mean that I left Fakir to this story for a while and that he destroyed the machine that wrote it doesn't mean that I can still write it!" He laughed cruelly.

Uzura pounded her sticks on his legs and Drosselmeyer let out a yelp. "What was that for?" He demanded, rubbing his sore spot.

"I didn't come here to see you make fun of my friends-zura!" She yelled back. "And you said that this won't be a tragedy! She probably doesn't even know what is going on-zura!"

She's right; I didn't. I did a grand jeté since I still didn't have the power to stop dancing. Great, I couldn't stop that too?

Drosselmeyer threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine, fine. I'll give back her voice and make her stop dancing at this moment."

He snapped his fingers loudly (I wondered how an old man like him could still do that) and in an instant, I stopped mid-turn in my fouetté rond de jambe en tournant. I wasn't surprised that I could dance so well in a dream, especially with someone controlling me. They looked patiently at me and I realized that they were waiting for me to speak. My mouth was agape, but even though I had the power to speak, I felt sick to my stomach. All of the compacted memories were coming back all at once. I suddenly didn't want to hear how my squeaky voice sounded like.

Taking a deep breath, I demanded, "What is happening?!" A small gasp escaped my mouth and I instantly covered my mouth. Uzura, peeking out behind Drosselmeyer's cloak, snickered. My voice sounded so more…sophisticated.

"A romance story, Ahiru! You're in a romance story now! You know, like those sappy little things with some antagonism along the way." He exclaimed happily, which was so out of character, if I do say so myself.

My eyes squinted at him suspiciously. "I thought you only wrote tragedies?" It was more of a question than a statement.

"Well, since I had no luck in that area, I changed over to a new leaf." I rolled my eyes. Mmh-hmm, right. As if he could give up his loved addiction.

"But you can't have your voice!" He teased, cackling. Nothing came out of my mouth as I opened it again. Great, just great. Just when I start having a nice voice, it's taken away from me.

"You said—"

Drosselmeyer cut Uzura off. "Yes, I know I said that. But it could be a romance or a tragedy. Whichever one flows. It's Fakir's job to shape his love life. I'm just trying to ignite it a little. He's making no effort to love Ahiru."

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain come to my head and the last thing I heard was a loud thump. Everything went blank.

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Fakir's POV

The door of my room was slightly ajar, but I could not hear any signs of life coming from inside. Opening the door feebly, afraid to see what was inside, I saw papers fluttering upwards and cascading to the ground. I was half a second late.

"Ahiru. AHIRU! Where the hell is she?" I ran my hand through my disheveled hair, my eyes searching frantically. I shivered as a cold breeze ran past my neck. It seemed to whisper.

Lake of Despair… Lake of Despair…

I got the idea and ran as fast as I could in my whole entire life. The trees and bushes and the countless unearthed roots didn't help at all. I had bruises and cuts and a scrape on my knee. I finally got to the dark, murky lake and dived into the water. I swam slowly to the bottom of the lake, the temperature getting colder and colder by the passing minutes.

Ahiru, where are you?

I passed the gears that showed my past: Edel's burning, Rue dancing, and concluding with me and Ahiru dancing the pas de duex at the same exact spot I was at right now.

Swimming deeper and deeper, I faced the notorious man in the sinister cloak and Uzura-chan's bright green hair.

"What's—" I was about to insult the man before I saw Ahiru—human Ahiru—lying unconscious on the ground. Her hair was the same pink color and she had grown into a beautiful young woman with curves. Although I could tell that she was still shorter than I, I knew that she had grown. Breasts were slightly visible against her clothes. The mere thought of that made me blush.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" I yelled at Drosselmeyer. Grandfather or no grandfather, nobody messes with my Ahiru.

"Relax," he assured me. "She just lost her memory." He said it as if it were the most simplest thing in the world.

"LOST HER MEMORY? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'LOST HER MEMORY'?!"

"She lost the memory of you, me, and ever being Princess Tutu or even herself." He stated calmly.

"So how do you suppose she's going to get it back?" I demanded.

One word was needed to elaborate the whole thing: "You."

"There's only one shard you need to return." He continued. "And that's her heart."

With that, he disappeared into thin air and left me with the unconscious girl. All that has happened today finally sunk in and a rock formed in my stomach.

She…didn't remember me.

Well, in case you didn't get why Drosselmeyer doesn't write himself with quotes, it's because he's the writer. Umm, I hope I got them in character... Please R&R!