Once upon a time, there was a man who was in love with a woman. Though she, too, loved him, he thought she loved another and stayed by her side, never once voicing his feelings. One day, the woman disappeared without a trace. The man, devastated, spent the rest of his life looking for her, only to realize it was too late.

Fakir's brow furrowed as he poured over the text in front of him. Everything was so cryptic, it was hard to make heads or tails out of any of the information, and what little that did make sense wasn't useful. Hell, he doubted if the cryptic parts were any help either. If he was being honest, he had no idea where he should start, or what sort of information he should even be looking for in the first place.

'Ahiru… Who did this?' he glared angrily at the book for not giving him any answers. 'Why are you human? What is that pendant? Why does it seem like you're fate's plaything?' These questions among many others whirled around in his head, begging for attention—an answer. Was the answer even in a book? There were many fairy tales in which a woman became an animal, but not the other way around—at least in their region.

He turned the page of the book he was reading, and his eyes landed on an old woodprint. It was of a crying princess, cursing the circumstances that brought her life to where it was. Fakir's eyes softened. He had been treating the fact that Ahiru was human again like it was a curse, but, in truth, he couldn't be happier. He had hoped, wished, and dreamed of Ahiru becoming human again. Not long ago, memories of her laughter and silly antics haunted him. Now? Now he got to hear and see them again. He was thrilled. They finally had a chance at a happy ending.

He hoped she didn't feel like he wasn't happy she was back. Was that why she was acting strangely around him? Did she misinterpret his concern for disdain? When he was with her, he felt like he could do anything—accomplish anything. He felt like he was himself. Of course he was worried about her. He would be devastated if anything happened to her. That's why he could never bring himself to write a story for her. The thought of someone else—or worse, Drosselmeyer—making her their puppet to who knows what ends. Regardless, it would do no good if his concern only brought her pain. He needed her to know he was happy.

Unconsciously, he found his eyes wandering across the room to where he had last seen Ahiru. Finding she was no longer there, he scanned the rest of the visible area for a glimpse of her blue coat or her salmon-colored braid, but he found nothing. He half-smiled to himself and tried to return his concentration to the book in front of him again. "Idiot probably got lost."


An almost golden heat enveloped Ahiru, a familiar sensation from some time ago. It dissipated like water dripping from her skin, leaving her, for the first time in two years, standing gracefully en pointe. It was the same outfit she had worn then, too. The crown, the bracelets, the wings and wispy cords—except now everything was white. The once yellow golden crown and necklace now gleamed white gold, her bracelets now made of pearls. The pendant which had been ruby red now had the same pearlescent gleam it had before she transformed.

"A swan's feathers are white, after all."

Their surroundings seemed to dissipate into the ether as she approached Autor, who was taken aback by the sudden change in the scenery.

"Autor, please tell me what bothers you so."

Autor turned toward her in surprise. His eyes widened when he saw her. Before him, in the flesh… from his favorite story, by his favorite author, a character with such a minor role, but… there. In front of him. "Princess Tutu?"

She nodded. "You are hurting." The concern she expressed on her face for him was startling.

He ignored it and squinted suspiciously at her. "What do you know? You aren't even allowed to speak your feelings."

She blinked, nonplussed. A moment passed before she smiled sadly at him. "All the better to understand your sorrow." In her own heart she felt an ache, and she placed her hand on her chest. 'Are these Autor's feelings?' Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the foreign emotions lapping at her aura. She opened her eyes back up and gazed empathetically at him.

Autor looked away.

She approached him with an air of elegance. "You have emotions that you cannot explain, emotions which seem to have no place, and they are causing you grief."

Autor gaped at her in surprise. Had it been so obvious?

Performing the all too familiar mime, she invited him forward, "Please… come dance with me."

Autor stared at her hand in disdain, but another feeling bubbled, something familiar, and it told him to accept. Once he took her hand, it was as if his feelings could no longer be contained, and the words began pouring from his mouth. "I… I feel longing for something I do not remember… I feel as though I loved someone, and now they're gone. From that feeling stems a burning anger."

Princess Tutu leaned forward and lifted her leg, arabesque. "There are feelings from the past that will always haunt us. We may not remember who or what caused them, but it is important we do not let them stop us from living in our current emotions." She gently lowered her leg and carefully turned on her pointes.

As they performed chaînés, Autor felt himself being lulled into a sense of relief. There was something so calm and relaxing about the prima ballerina's dance. "But it feels so important…"

"And those emotions are important. Each and every emotion we experience is important, but we can't let any of those emotions hinder the ones we feel now. We experience them and let them pass."

"That's right. Who I lost is no longer here, and if I keep on holding on to that love, I'll forget to live my life." Their dance ended in a bow.

Princess Tutu straightened up, a calm smile stretching across her lips, "Th—" She was interrupted by a loud grunt and Autor falling backwards, a dark light leaving him. "Autor!"

She rushed to him, but stopped short when the black light was absorbed into her pendant, a shooting pain pulsing through her body instantaneously. She tried to scream, but she found she couldn't as her body was enveloped in an excruciating pain. Darkness enveloped her as she collapsed to the floor.


"…happened…"

"I don't…"

"…hiru!"

"Ahiru!"

Ahiru groaned and squeezed her eyes shut in pain. Her head throbbed dully. "Shush, my head hurts."

"Ahiru!" Fakir's voice was filled with relief. She vaguely realized it was his hands on her shoulders. "What happened?!"

With a moan, she forced herself to peek out at the world—but only with one eye. Both seemed to be asking too much of her right now.

Fakir was kneeling beside her on the ground, concern clearly written on his features. She pressed her eye back shut and let him pull her into a sitting position. Ahiru rubbed at the back of her head and tried to recall why she was on the ground. As her memories began spilling back, she suddenly jerked forward, her eyes wide open. Autor was in front of her, his hands on his knees. He looked startled—she assumed by her sudden movement—though she was relieved to see he was okay. She glanced down in panic, she wasn't still transformed, was she? Her form slackened in relief upon seeing the powder blue of her new coat. As she let her chin fall to her chest, pale gray caught her eye. She stiffened. Was her pendant getting darker?

"Ahiru?"

She jerked her head towards Fakir, her eyes wide again. "Huh?!"

His eyebrows knit together, perturbed. "What happened?" He repeated. "Are you okay?"

Ahiru glanced back down at the gem hanging from her neck. It was white. She frowned. Had she imagined it? Was it just the shadows? She shook her head. "Y-yeah. I'm… I'm fine. I just… my head hurts."

Fakir waited a moment before prompting her, "And…?"

"I'm… not sure what happened…" Ahiru admitted. It was true. She didn't know what happened. Sure, she knew she became Princess Tutu, but she didn't know why. Drosselmeyer had told her she would become Princess Tutu again, and that she would be comforting people with misplaced emotions, but she didn't know why. Why did Autor feel such an empty passion for someone who was no longer there? Why did she need to remove that feeling? What was the black… light? It seemed more like an absence of light. Was it what caused the feeling? What was the source, then? Why did it go into the pendant? Why did it hurt so much?

Autor adjusted his glasses and straightened up. Ahiru caught a glimpse of an embarrassed blush, so she suspected he did so to hide it. "I had… fallen asleep, it would seem, while doing some research. When I came to, I saw her here on the floor."

Fakir shot Autor a look. "I know that much. You made such a racket it's a wonder no one else came to see what was going on." He looked back to Ahiru, his eyes softer. "Do you remember anything, Ahiru?"

Ahiru bit her lip and looked down at her hands. She couldn't possibly tell Fakir she had become Princess Tutu. Telling him would only make him worry… and lead to more questions. She could only lie to him for so long with him grilling her before she would break down and tell him everything. She hated lying to him, but she couldn't bear to see the disappointment that would inevitably mar his face when he found out that she had made a deal with Drosselmeyer—nor could she stand to bring him into this mess she made for herself. She slowly shook her head. "No… I think… I think I'm just… still a little bit… tired? From almost drowning… you know?" She winced.

"Drowning?" Autor looked aghast. "Fakir!" he admonished. "Why would you take someone about town after such an ordeal? Really!"

Fakir glared at him, though it seemed the words had affected him.

"No, no!" Ahiru tried to assure him, "I wanted to go out, really! It's been so long since I've been out, so… And, uhm, I mean, it's been a few days since, and I have to get out eventually, right?"

Autor was unimpressed. "Ahiru, was it?" He paused for her to confirm. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather lay down for a bit?" He offered her a hand.

With a sharp glance, Fakir helped Ahiru up, forcing her to reject Autor's assistance. Something about Autor's behavior toward Ahiru was off putting to him. "I'll take her back home so she can rest," Fakir asserted.

Autor withdrew his hand with a shrug. "If you insist." He offered Ahiru a nod. "Do take care of yourself, okay?"

Ahiru responded with a small nod, cautious of her headache.

Fakir eyed Autor warily as he escorted Ahiru toward the door, bending slightly to accommodate her height.

Autor watched them until left his range of vision. He looked down at the spot Ahiru had been sitting in moments before. Her eyes had taken him aback. They were a gorgeous sky blue, the kind you could get lost in—the kind the prima ballerina from his dream had had. The sadness she held in those eyes… it was enchanting. Absently, he adjusted his cravat.

"Ahiru, huh?" He muttered aloud to no one.

He would have to get to know her better. It couldn't be a coincidence the captivating figure he dreamt of bore a striking resemblance to this new girl. With a lingering glance in the direction she had left, Autor headed toward the aisle he frequented the most. He had a desire to read his favorite book, Prinz und Rabe, again.


"I can walk on my own, ya know…" Ahiru mumbled as Fakir yet again readjusted her arm across his shoulders.

"Oh, please. You're such a klutz you'd probably walk into something and get even more hurt."

"Fakir, you're really blowing this out of proportion!"

Fakir laughed dryly at her, "I'm blowing this out of proportion, huh?" he shrugged his shoulders to reposition her arm, again, "Just quit complaining and let me help you."

Ahiru exhaled heavily, but let it go. It had grown chillier since they went inside, and despite the fact she could walk on her own, the added warmth was nice. 'So… I guess I really did make a deal with Drosselmeyer, then…' Ahiru thought morosely. She hadn't been sure before, and maybe she was hoping she hadn't and it was all a dream to explain her sudden return to being a girl. But she definitely became Princess Tutu again. Ahiru placed her hand over her pendant. The memory of the pain from when the black light was absorbed into it brought back phantom pains. She frowned. So she really only had a year left to live.

Fakir's voice drew her from her reverie. "What happened back there, Ahiru? Are you really just fatigued?"

She peered up at him with downcast eyes. "I-I'm not quite sure, honestly." Maybe she had accepted Drosselmeyer's offer too hastily. What had happened when she was Princess Tutu? She bit back a groan at the pain reverberating through her heart. 'What did I get myself into?'

"Don't think so hard, you might hurt yourself again."

Ahiru glared up at Fakir for the comment but stopped short when she saw the amusement in his eyes. "Fa…kir?"

He turned back to the stone-paved road before them. "Hey, after we get home, I'll make something for you to eat… I didn't exactly give you a chance to eat breakfast this morning."

Ahiru blushed. "You don't have to, really…" She shivered slightly from the cold and pulled closer to Fakir.

Fakir looked down at her and stopped. "Are you cold?"

"No," Ahiru shook her head.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I can feel you shivering, moron." He met her eyes after he finished tucking the end of the scarf under the rest of it. "We need to get you warmer clothes."

"Oh, I didn't know Fakir had a girlfriend!"

"What?! Fakir's taken?! Aw, no fair!"

"It can't be too long before they break up, right?"

"Of course they'll break up! Look at her, she's so awkward!"

Fakir scowled at the particularly loud group of so-called "Fakir Girls," earning multiple squeaks from the three of them. He glanced down at Ahiru, who appeared to be completely oblivious to the whole scene and was instead nuzzling her face into the dark green knit scarf he placed around her neck. He smiled at her innocence—just as he remembered her. He once again repositioned her arm, though she was slowly coaxing him into letting her support her own weight. Within minutes he settled with her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey… I—"

"Oh, Fakir! Look!" Ahiru pulled away from him and rushed over to the florist, pressing her face against the glass. "It's those flowers!"

Fakir followed her to the window and looked to where she was pointing. "Poinsettias."

"Is that what they're called?" She pulled back from the glass to look up at him.

He nodded. She had stopped by the window earlier today on the way to the library. She must've not noticed them if she was just pointing them out now.

She looked back at the window, beaming. "They're beautiful, aren't they? I like how pointy they are—like little stars! I love flowers in general, though, they remind me of Freya—she loved them so much and—" she stopped when her eyes landed on a pair of poinsettias: one pristine white, the other blood red. Suddenly she was overcome by a swirl of conflicting emotions, her eyes darkening at the sight.

"Ahiru?"

Ahiru smiled again before leaning back and looking up at him. "They're just so lovely!"

Fakir stared at her a moment. It must have been his imagination, but it looked like she was glaring at the floral display. He shook his head and took ahold of her elbow. "Come on, let's get you inside."

"O-oh, okay! Right." Ahiru blinked as Fakir tugged her along behind him. The florist wasn't far from his house, so it wasn't a long walk.

Fakir opened the door and helped Ahiru out of her coat and scarf. "Go lay down on the couch."

Ahiru puffed up at his command, "Hey! I'm perfectly alright! I'm walking on my own, aren't I?! I was just… just…"

Fakir pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't argue with me. You collapsed in the library. We don't know what's going on here, and I don't want to take any chances. So just go lay down, moron."

Ahiru looked down at her feet. Fakir was clearly worried about her, and she felt bad for keeping the truth from him. "Okay," she mumbled.

"I'll go warm up some leftovers, in the meantime, stay here."

Ahiru screwed up her lips as she lounged back on the couch, turning her back to him. She did feel back for lying, but she didn't need to be babied. She had been through worse than a little fainting episode.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the pendant around her neck. She paused, suddenly remembering the pale gray she had seen earlier at the library. Throwing a cautious glance towards the kitchen to make sure Fakir wasn't watching her, she cupped the stone in her fingers and brought it closer to her face. It was definitely white. She didn't know why she thought it had turned a faint shade of gray—perhaps she was right in thinking it was just shadows playing tricks on her. With a sigh, she dropped pendant back to her chest. There was no point in theorizing what she did or didn't see.

'Am I missing something? What didn't Drosselmeyer tell me?' She pondered as she stared into empty space.

Soft blue eyes slowly turned a glaring navy the longer she stared blankly. Suddenly, 'Why did Mytho pick Rue? Why would he choose her after everything I gave up for him?!' She gasped, blinking in surprise. The thought had come unbidden to her mind, startling her with its incongruity. 'Why would I think that? I don't feel like that… I'm happy for Rue and Mytho, so why…?"

"The food is ready," Fakir called from the kitchen, breaking Ahiru's thoughts.

"I'm coming," Ahiru called as she stood up, completely forgetting what she had been thinking about.

As she walked to the kitchen a pale gray stone once again returned to pure white, unnoticed.

"You don't mind leftovers, right?" Fakir asked as he sat down in a wooden chair across from Ahiru.

Ahiru shook her head, "No, not at all!" she gratefully accepted the food, "Thank you!" Hardly waiting until the last syllable left her lips, she began stuffing her face.

It never failed to amaze Fakir how boisterously she ate. 'Just like she does everything else.' Smiling, he shook his head and followed suit—just less ravenously.

After a few moments Ahiru set her fork down and looked up at Fakir. She bit her lip before beginning, "Say, Fakir? Are you mad at me?"

Fakir's eyebrow furrowed as he looked up from his plate of food. "What? Why would you think that?" So his fears were right, he wasn't making his feelings apparent enough.

A blush flooded her cheeks when their eyes met, causing her to look down. She avoided his gaze and drew circles with her finger in the suddenly all-too-intriguing cotton table cloth. "Well, it's just that since I've woken up, you seem on edge and all… Not that that's a bad thing, or anything. 'Cause it really isn't, ya know? I mean, maybe I'm just being stupid, because it's only the right thing to be concerned as to why a duck suddenly became a human and considering my last time as a human, I—" in her panicky ramblings Ahiru had became oblivious to what she was doing, and, in a very Ahiru-like moment, her glass of water went toppling down, soaking the cloth instantly.

"Ah! I-I'm sorry!" she squeaked as she jumped from her chair and frantically ran around the kitchen looking for a towel. By the time she found one and returned to the table the water had mostly been absorbed into the white cotton. "Er… I uh! I'll get it!" Despite the growing dark spot, she began pressing the towel onto the fabric, trying to get up as much as she could.

"Don't be silly," Fakir finally said, "I'm happy for you. I mean… I'm happy in general." She peered up at him in surprise, to which he added, "I just think you should be more concerned with how you became a human. If another story has started, who knows what could happen. And you'll be in the center of it... again."

Ahiru diverted her gaze and went back to mopping up the water, this time less vigorously. 'I didn't really think over how this would affect Fakir… I just wanted to be happy.' "I'm… sorry."

Fakir stood up, picking up his dishes as he did so, "Don't be, it's just water. Just throw it in the laundry." He seemed to stop to think for a moment before he collected her dishes as well and headed for the sink.

"Oh, right." She looked down at the wet cloth and the yellow towel in her hand. She drew all the corners up to the middle and carried it over to the laundry. Fakir was scrubbing the dishes in the sink when she returned.

Ahiru's cornflower blue eyes became downcast as she leaned back against the wooden wall and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. 'I… can't seem to do anything right anymore… I should've never made that deal with Drosselmeyer. I'm just being selfish.' She glanced up at Fakir through her thick bangs, watching the muscles flow in his back as he scrubbed each plate. 'I didn't even think about how worried he would be…'

"Ahiru?" Fakir asked, sensing her presence.

Ahiru lifted her head up, "Hm?"

Without turning around Fakir replied, "Are you going to help with the dishes or what?" A small smile stretched across her lips and she nodded before skipping to his side to help.


Click click click.

The rhythmic clicking of the spinning gears filled the air of the dark realm. One floated, separate from the others, still spinning in tandem with the rest. The light emanating from the flat surface of the magic image inside of it reflected on the face on the man before it, giving him a sinister glow.

The man, Drosselmeyer, grinned maniacally as he leaned back in his chair. Before him, the gear showed an image of his little duck washing dishes alongside the former knight. She giggled as she splashed him with soapy water and he retaliated in kind. "How wonderful!" He mused as he watched the scene play out before him. "Yes, little duck, I can always count on you to set the perfect stage."

The soft tapping of a drum alerted to him that he had company.

"Ah, Uzura! Have you come to watch the show?"

The tiny form of a pale girl appeared next to Drosselmeyer. "What's this, zura?" She hadn't changed at all in the past two years. Her seafoam green hair was still in a short bob swept to the back, with two little curls springing from the top of her head. Even her outfit with the little red tulip had remained the same. And, of course, her signature, ever-present drum was strapped around her torso. "Oooh, that's Ahiru and Fakir, zura!"

Dark cobalt blue eyes watched curiously as the two engaged in a vicious splash fight. She smiled and began marching away from him while humming a happy tune.

Drosselmeyer watched her leave for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the cog. The scene had zoomed in on Ahiru's face as she was shrieking with laughter. Drosselmeyer chuckled himself. "I knew you'd be the star of my greatest tragedy."


Charon sighed as he stared at the kitchen which was now dripping wet, the occasional pile of suds visible. "I should've known better than to leave you kids alone…"

Ahiru looked down in embarrassment before looking back up at him, her eyes remorseful. "I'll clean it up, it's my fault anyway: I started it."

Charon chuckled and patted her shoulder. "I'm sure Fakir did something to warrant the aggression," to this Fakir interjected but was ignored, "he'll wipe it up, it's not too bad. I need to talk to you in the living room."

"Er… are you sure? I mean… I did make most of the mess..." Ahiru looked over at Fakir. He didn't seem upset, which was a good sign.

"Just go talk to him, moron." Fakir lightly pushed her forward.

Charon shook his head at Fakir, "That's no way to talk to a lady, Fakir. Now, this way please, Ahiru." Charon gently led the small girl into the living room and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Oh," Ahiru gasped, remembering something important as she sat, "thank you for my coat!" She pressed her hands together happily in front of her chest. "It's so pretty and so warm! I love it!"

Charon waved her off. "Not at all. I hope it fits alright, I didn't know your size so I just got one I knew would fit for sure—and I imagine it covers more skin this way."

"It's perfect! You didn't have to do it, though."

Charon shook his head. "Your clothes weren't nearly warm enough for the current weather, I couldn't let you leave here without something to protect you from the cold… which brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about… From what I understand, you're an orphan, am I correct?"

Ahiru looked up at him in surprise, her thoughts wildly racing in her mind, 'Am I an orphan? I don't remember ever having parents… Not even as a duck…' After a couple of seconds Ahiru nodded her head. "Yes…"

Charon strummed his fingers quietly on the couch arm. "I thought as much. I tried to get information of your origins from Fakir while you were sick so I could notify your parents, but he didn't say anything… which explains why you're wearing those clothes outside despite the time of year…"

Ahiru stared down at her hands and nodded again, suddenly feeling sad at the realization. 'I never even really thought about having parents before…'

"Well, I simply will not have a young girl such as yourself wandering the streets, especially when it is this cold out. Do you have a guardian?" Charon asked empathetically. Ahiru shook her head. "Alright, in which case, I insist that you stay here. We have an extra room that I can clear out and make a bedroom for you so you can stay. Would that be alright?"

The duck looked up at him with wide eyes. "Wh-what, really? I… I couldn't impose!"

Charon shook his head. "No, not at all. I insist that you stay. It's not the kind of world where a young girl—or anyone, really—can live on the streets. Plus, it's not often I get to see Fakir with a friend. We have the space, it would be foolish not to put it to good use."

"Alright… i-if you're sure…" Ahiru relented, seeing that she wouldn't change the aging man's mind.

"Of course I'm sure!" Charon grinned. "Naturally, we'll have to buy you some more clothes, and the basic furniture. You can stay in Fakir's room until we get your room done, he can sleep out here."

Ahiru blinked in surprise and smiled as she listened to Charon enthusiastically describe everything that needed to be done in order for her stay. Well, at least he seemed to want her around. It wasn't like she had anywhere else she could stay.

"You don't mind helping out around the house then?" Charon finally asked.

She shook her head, "Not at all."

"What're you two talking about?" Fakir asked when he entered the living room.

Charon turned towards his son and patted his back. "I need you to take Ahiru to the market tomorrow to buy her some clothes—make sure they're warmer than what she has now."

Fakir cocked his head curiously, but seemed agree. "Alright."

Charon clapped his hands together. "Perfect! Ahiru will be staying here until she decides she's had enough of us."

An indecipherable emotion flitted in Fakir's eyes for a second before he shrugged. "I should've known that this is what you were up to."

"Well, if you don't want me to stay…" Ahiru crinkled her nose and her voice took on a slightly offended tone.

"I'm just worried you'll burn the house down," Fakir shot back.

Indignantly, Ahiru replied, "I would not, you jerk, and you know it!"

"I'm not so sure about that."

"You're just trying to get a rise out of me!"

"And it's working."

Ahiru huffed in exasperation.

Charon scratched the back of his head and laughed. "Well, no more dull days around here at least…"


"Alright well, goodnight, Idiot." Fakir muttered as he shut the door, leaving Ahiru alone in his bedroom. She puckered her lips in annoyance, but let it fade as she stripped out of her clothing and pulled on one of his old shirts.

"Hm… it smells like him…" her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she dropped the collar of his shirt from her nose and flailed her arms. "Not that I know what he smells like! Not at all! Ha ha… ha... ehh… I really need to stop talking to myself…"

"How does it feel being a human again, little duck?" maniacal red eyes replaced the wall and the rest of Fakir's room faded into a hazy black.

"Drosselmeyer!" an invisible wind rustled her hair and clothing as she turned to face the giant eyes.

Laughter reverberated throughout the air as he replied, "Why, yes, that is my name."

A whirlwind of questions spun in her mind, each fighting to get out. She blurted the one that seemed the most pressing. "What is this pendant? Why are those lights going into it?"

"Ooooh, that?" His inflection dripped with feigned innocence. "Just a little something, it's nothing really. Don't worry about it." Drosselmeyer smiled maliciously. "All is to be revealed in due time—you don't want to rush a good plot!"

"I want answers now!" Ahiru stomped her foot and glared up at the apparition. "What is going on?! What haven't you told me?!"

Drosselmeyer faked hurt, "I came to check on how you were doing, and all you can do is demand things from me? How selfish…"

Ahiru frowned. "Don't make me out to be the bad guy."

He seemed tickled by her words. "Of course you aren't, little duck! I have a much better part for you in this story."

She bit her lip. It had been obvious from the start he was starting another story, but hearing the words was almost painful to her. "How can you even write another story? Fakir destroyed your machine!"

An uproarious cackle shook the air, "That machine?!" His words were choked with his laughter. "I wrote that story in blood!"

"What?" Had Drosselmeyer given her a clue?

Drosselmeyer grinned, "Oops, I said too much," he laughed once again and it faded along with the darkness surrounding her, "I'll be watching you, little duck..."

Everything had returned to normal; not a single thing was out of place. Drosselmeyer was gone, and Ahiru was hardly any closer to figuring anything out than she had been that morning. She sunk to the ground and leaned her head against Fakir's dresser. She felt pitiful. Frustrated tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and she rubbed at them furiously. "I should've been more careful. I should've figured more out before agreeing…" 'I'm so sorry Fakir, I keep making things worse…'

Ahiru sat on the floor for a few moments until she regained her composure. She should've been more careful, but she made the deal, and now she would have to deal with the consequences. She had a little under a year left, and she'd have to make to the best of it.

Crawling into bed, she turned off the lamp on Fakir's nightstand and allowed herself to drift into a restless sleep filled with ominous laughter and dripping blood.

'I need to make things right before… before the end.'


"Hey! Ahiru! Would you wake up already?" Fakir knocked loudly on the door, trying for the tenth time to draw the girl out of bed. "I'm not going to wait all day for you!"

Ahiru moaned and turned over, her blankets falling off of the bed. "Just five more minutes…"

"No! You said that an hour ago! Get up already, idiot!"

"Alright, alright… jerk." Ahiru scrunched her face up as she pulled herself off of the bed. She quickly pulled her clothes back on after throwing Fakir's shirt on the bed. "What's the hurry, anyway?"

Fakir rolled his eyes on the other side of the door. "We're supposed to get you new clothes, moron. Let me guess: you already forgot."

Ahiru swiftly opened the door, accidentally hitting Fakir square on the nose.

"Eep!" Ahiru squeaked and jumped towards him, flailing. "Sorry, Fakir! I didn't realize you were right in front of the door—are you okay?" She remorsefully leaned forward to check the battered appendage. "It's not bleeding, I don't think…"

Fakir sighed. "Well, that's good to know."

"I'm sorry." She bit her lip glanced up at him. "I didn't mean to."

"I know. It's fine. Let's just get going."

Ahiru pouted as she followed behind him. "I really am sorry!" She insisted.

Fakir rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing, moron." He grabbed both his and her coat from the rack.

"Sorry," she mumbled—earning a glare from Fakir—and took her coat.

"Here," Fakir wrapped his scarf around Ahiru's neck like he had before.

Her cheeks flushed a pale pink, and she averted her eyes while he adjusted it to cover her neck and chin properly. "You don't have to lend me your scarf, y'know…"

Fakir stepped back to check his work before gently tugging on one corner. "It's cold out. All you have is a skirt that doesn't reach your knees, and a midriff shirt with sleeves that don't even cover your shoulders."

"—and a coat!" she interjected.

"And a coat," Fakir agreed. "But it's still not enough. So wear the damn scarf, okay?"

She smiled and tucked her chin inside the scarf. "Okay."

"And this." Fakir thrust a matching green knit hat over her head, pushing the stubborn hairs that normally stuck straight up forward. He tugged on the ends to make sure they were covering her ears.

Ahiru blinked in surprise, staring up at her now-visible cowlick.

Fakir nodded, satisfied with the coverage. "Alright, let's go." He held open the door for Ahiru.

Ahiru glanced around the area as Fakir locked up. "So, where're we goin'?"

"Don't you have a store you used to go to?" Fakir asked as he pocketed his key.

Ahiru puckered her lips as she thought. "Humm… Not really?" She mused for a second before it hit her. "Oh, I never actually went shopping before, now that I think of it."

Fakir raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"I mean… I dunnu, I guess Drosselmeyer just sorta had given me a small collection of clothes, so I didn't really have to worry about that kind of thing. And it's not like I went shopping as a duck, so…"

Fakir sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Ahh, great. We'll have to figure something." He started heading towards the town proper.

Ahiru walked alongside him. "Well, where do you go to buy clothes?"

Before replying, he bit his cheek. "I doubt you'd find anything you like there."

"Oh, that's probably not true!" Ahiru insisted.

Fakir made a noncommittal grunt, and Ahiru studied his profile. He was avoiding her gaze.

She grinned slyly, narrowing her eyes. "You don't do your own clothes shopping, do you?"

He continued to avoid her gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ahiru laughed. "You don't!" Once her laughter subsided, she shook her head. "That's okay. Me neither. I guess we'll learn together!"

Fakir rolled his eyes. "Come on, moron."

She smiled, following him to the local seamstress shop.

The ringing of a small bell announced their entry as they opened the door.

"Just a moment, just a moment!" A lyrical voice called from a back room.

Ahiru busied herself with looking at the clothing. There was a pretty decent selection of premade clothes to choose from. Beautiful shirts and intricately embroidered sweaters. Fashionable wool coats lined the walls. As she was admiring the design embellished on the pocket of a dark pair of pants, an older woman with graying hair came bustling out.

"Ah, sorry about the wait dearie—" she cut off when she saw Fakir, her grin widening, "—ies! Oh my! I don't often see a couple shopping together!" Ahiru and Fakir's faces immediately turned bright red.

"Nonono!" Ahiru cried, "it's not like that! He's just—we're just—he isn't—"

Fakir forcibly looked away with a cough, trying to hide the deepening blush on his cheeks.

"Oh?" The seamstress looked between the two. "My apologies. Are you not here together?"

Ahiru shook her head. "No, we are—" her eyes widened and she began flailing. "—but not like that! We're not together together, we're just here. Together. As friends."

The woman's eyebrows curved upwards and she gave Ahiru an amused look. "Ahh, alright then. I see. My mistake." She chuckled to herself. "Well, how can I help you today? Are you looking to be fitted? Or are you more interested in my premade clothing?"

Ahiru turned her attention back to the clothes in her hand, "Err, well, I guess premade?"

The seamstress looked Ahiru's frame up and down and frowned. "In the market for something warmer, I hope." She walked over to Ahiru. "You've a fairly svelte build. These are the sizes you'll want to be looking for." She pointed out some clothing around Ahiru's size. "Here, what about this?" She pulled out a pair of tight-fitted white slacks. "These would complement your complexion well."

Ahiru took the pants from her and held them in front of her hips. Turning to Fakir she called out, "What do you think, Fakir?"

Still recovering from his earlier embarrassment, he shrugged. "I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

Ahiru made a face at him. "Because I want your opinion, dummy!"

Fakir groaned. "They're fine."

Making a face, she turned back towards the seamstress. "I'm sorry, he's a jerk."

The seamstress looked between the two and clapped her hands together. "Ah! I know!" She began flipping through the racks of clothing, occasionally pulling out an article of clothing and draping it over her arm. "There we go!"

Ahiru blinked as the seamstress shoved the pile of clothing in her arms.

"This way, dear," the seamstress ushered Ahiru to the back room. "I have a private area you can change in to try everything on. That way you can decide based on how it looks."

"O-oh." Ahiru, a bit mystified by all of it, let herself be pushed into an area blocked from view by a partition and some curtains.

"If you're not sure about how it looks, you can come out and ask your friend what he thinks." She added with a wink, "Or me." Without another word, she pulled the curtains closed and wandered back into the main room.

"O-okay," Ahiru mumbled. Looking down at the clothes, she sighed. She wasn't quite sure where to begin. Thinking back to the high-waisted puffy shorts and clogs she used to wear, she wasn't so sure she could be called knowledgeable when it came to fashion. She picked up a pale-yellow long-sleeved shirt with a button v-neck. It was as good a start as any. She paired it with the dark pants she had been admiring earlier.

Admiring herself in the conveniently provided mirror, she decided the outfit looked rather nice on her. Maybe she didn't have a bad sense of fashion, after all. She smiled and began trying on different shirt and pants the seamstress had picked for her. After trying a few different things on, she picked up a bulky sweater and pulled it over her head. It was knit and oversized, the hem reaching just below her thighs, and had a cute Lapland pattern across the chest. She examined her reflection from multiple angles before deciding to get another opinion on it.

"Hey, Fakir, what do you think about this?" Ahiru asked as she stepped out of the backroom.

Fakir glanced over, and the sight of her brought a subtle smile to his lips. She had grown in the past two years. While she still was adorable, an outfit that would've just enhanced her natural cuteness now made her look more mature.

"Well?" Ahiru prompted.

He blushed and looked away, realizing he had been staring. "It's nice. You look fine."

Ahiru screwed her mouth up at his response. Sensing her displeasure, the seamstress came over to look at the outfit.

"Oh, how lovely!" the seamstress enthused. "Oh, this would look great with a pair of leggings! And maybe a belt…" She rushed over to the counter she kept some accessories before coming back with aforementioned items. "See, like this," she latched the belt around Ahiru's middle over the sweater and ushered her to a mirror.

"That does look nice!" Ahiru agreed as she turned to the side to view the profile. "Oh!" She paused and peeked over her shoulder to see if Fakir was paying attention. He wasn't. Good. Ahiru leaned over and whispered, "Do you have undergarments?"

"Of course!" The seamstress nodded and headed towards the back room. "I keep them back here."

She showed her the selection and measured her for a proper bra before she kindly helped Ahiru pick a few sets. Suspecting Ahiru didn't want her friend seeing this part of her purchase, the seamstress wrapped her choices up in a brown paper bag. "Do you need more time to try on other things?"

Ahiru shook her head. "No, I think I'm ready. I'll go change back."

"Just leave whatever you don't want back there, I'll take care of it later. I'll go ahead and start ringing these up," she lifted the brown paper bag. "If you want to wear a pair of pants out, that's fine."

"Thanks!" Ahiru smiled before going back the to the changing area. She decided to take the seamstress up on her offer and pulled on the dark embellished pants.

After all was said and done, she ended up getting seven tops, four bottoms, a dress, some socks, and a few accessories—in addition to her multiple undergarments. The seamstress put her purchases neatly in paper bags while Fakir paid her.

"Thank you so much for your patronage! Please come back again."

"I'm sure I will!" Ahiru grinned and took her bags. "Thanks for your help."

"Stay warm!" The seamstress called after them as they left the store.

"I noticed you decided to change into pants."

Ahiru nodded, "Yeah, you were right. It's cold out here."

"I'm sorry, what was that." He leaned his ear closer to her.

"I said it's cold out here."

"No, before that." Fakir gave her a mischievous grin.

She cocked her head to the side. "You wer—ooh!" She narrowed her eyes at him, catching on.

"I was…?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Fakir laughed.

"Humph," Ahiru rolled her eyes. "Is that everything, then? Do we need to pick up groceries or anything?"

He shook his head. "No. Charon usually shops for groceries; however, there is one more place we need to go."

"Where?"

"We need to get you more weather appropriate shoes."

Ahiru looked down at her feet which were adorned in a pair of nude flats. "You think?"

"Do you really think those are good for walking in snow?"

Ahiru gestured with her arm. "Well, lead the way then."

The store wasn't far from the one they just left, and the shop keep had been equally nice. He patiently sized Ahiru's feet and waited for her to pick out a new pair of boots—which she also ended up wearing out of the store.

"Okay, anything else?" Ahiru asked as she moved her feet and ankles around in her new shoes.

Fakir shook his head. "No, we can head home now."

Ahiru smiled. "Thanks for taking me out for new clothes. I really appreciate it… I'm sure you found it boring."

Fakir shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Hmm… Ah!" Ahiru beamed and marched out in front of him. "I guess I'll just make dinner to show my appreciation, then!"

Fakir blanched. "That's… that's okay. Really." He was not about to forget the last time Ahiru cooked something.

Ahiru frowned. "But I want to repay you and Charon for the clothes!"

"Then why would you want to poison us?"

"Hey!" Ahiru glared at him and stuck her tongue out at him.

"That's not very becoming of someone your age; you should start acting more like an adult."

The girl 'hmph'ed and crossed her arms. "And this is coming from the nineteen-year-old who still calls me childish names like 'moron' and 'idiot.'"

"Maybe if you didn't act like a five-year-old I wouldn't have to dumb everything down for you."

"Jer—Oh!" Ahiru stopped mid-insult when a snowflake fell on her nose. She put out her hand and looked up at the sky as more followed in its stead. "It's snowing! Fakir, look! Snow!"

"We better hurry back. It looks like it's going to pick up."

Ahiru watched the snowflakes fall with wonder as Fakir pulled her back to the house. "Isn't it pretty?"

"You act like you've never seen snow before."

"Not as a human! Last time it snowed, I was a duck! And you kept me in the stable!"

"It's not like I wanted to keep you in the stable. Charon didn't want a wild animal in the house."

Ahiru pursed her lips, choosing to ignore his comment, and instead continued to watch the snow fall.

Fakir fumbled with the key a bit once they reached the door. "I'll make us some hot cocoa, why don't you go put away your clothes?"

A smile stretched across her lips. She had never had hot cocoa before, and she was incredibly excited for this new experience. "Okay!" She carefully removed her new shoes and coat and placed Fakir's hat and scarf on the hat rack before racing upstairs to her temporary bedroom.

This was the first time Ahiru had picked out new clothes, and she squealed and hugged each new article of clothing as she pulled it out of the bag. Once she found the brown bag with her undergarments, she ripped through it and immediately changed into a clean pair—it had been too long since she had been able to change them.

"Oh," she pulled another bag out, "what's this?" Upon opening it, she found a matching yellow hat, scarf, and mittens. She turned them over in her hands. "I didn't get these… huh." She placed them on the bed before pulling out the last few articles of clothing. After she was done, she headed downstairs.

"Hey, Fakir," she began, "I think that lady made a mistake. There was a hat and stuff in the bag with my clothes."

Fakir responded with his back still turned to her as he finished up the hot chocolate. "I got them for you."

"But you were already getting so much for me."

Fakir carried to mugs over to the table and gave one to her. "Now you can stop taking mine."

Ahiru smiled softly as she stared at the melting marshmallows in her cup. "Thank you."


Interlocking spokes of rusty brown cogs pressed against each other, clicking as they rotate in alternating directions. Having forsaken his spot on his chair, the eccentric man with fleur-de-lis styled facial hair was now perched delicately on top of a cog, shifting from foot to foot with each slow-paced click in its rotation. Rumbling laughter rolled through the air as he watched the scene in his viewing cog. Distantly, another sound joined the others and slowly grew louder as a small figure approached.

Tap tappa tap tap tap.

"Ducky Knighty wuvy dovey! Love love, zura!" The pale tiny girl sang out as she rapped on her drum.

Hearing her arrival, the man jumped down from his rotating perch and landed before the reborn puppet. "Ah, Uzura, there you are."

"Ooh, what're you doing, zura?"

Drosselmeyer glanced at the viewing cog. "Just keeping an eye on our little duck. What do you think of our story so far?"

"Ahiru and Fakir are love love, zura!" Uzura proceeded to tap on her toy with a wide grin.

Drosselmeyer ran his tongue along his teeth in thought. "Yes… their relationship does seem to be developing especially fast." He stroked his beard. "Maybe too fast."

Uzura indignantly spun her drum to her side and crossed her arms. "They're lovey-dovey, zura!" She insisted.

"Yes, yes," Drosselmeyer dismissed her. "Don't you think a slow burn is much more enjoyable, though? The longer they pine, the sweeter it'll be when her end finally comes!" He tittered at the idea.

Uzura pouted at the floor for a moment before glaring up at him. "Lovey-dovey," she repeated.

Laughing, Drosselmeyer patted her head. "There, there, Uzura, I won't interfere," he grinned up at the gear, "much more, anyway."

Uzura looked up at the gear as well, a smile coming back to her lips as she watched Fakir laugh at Ahiru who had gotten foam from the melted marshmallows on her nose. She hoped they would defeat Drosselmeyer once again and get their happy ending.

"Ah, little duck, you continue to prove yourself a most… compelling character. I look forward to your performance."

Uzura turned on her foot, swinging her drum back to her front, and marched away, tapping on her drum.

Drosselmeyer paid her no mind. "This will be my greatest tragedy yet, enjoy your happiness while it lasts, little duck."