Once upon a time, there was a man who was enamored with romance. He loved love so much, he freely gave up on being himself. "If only I could find love, then it does not matter who I am!" To his great dismay, his many trysts ended in heartbreak. It wasn't until after he gave up on love altogether that he found it, but was love from another the love he really wanted?

Ahiru sat cross-legged on her bed, watching the birds eat the seed she had put out for them, while fidgeting with the pendant around her neck. She was pleased a larger flock of birds was starting to show up daily. Though it certainly helped that the snowy days had melted away, leaving warmer weather in their wake.

It had been a little over a month since Raetzel had come and gone. Her visit was brief, but enjoyable. Raetzel had even given Ahiru some lessons in doing her own hair. Admittedly, Ahiru wasn't much better than she was before, but she was better. That being said, she decided to just maintain her usual hairstyle.

The month had passed quite peacefully. Fakir had been unusually nice to her, which she suspected had something to do with their little experiment in trying to take off her necklace. She should reprimand him for acting like she was fragile, but Ahiru had to admit she needed the time to nurse her inner turmoil.

Sometimes she felt physically sick when she thought about the weight in her chest. She felt moody at times, like she wasn't entirely in control. However, she was impressed with her ability to push it all to the side. Despite her discomfort, she felt like things were going alright. She was having the happy year she promised she would have.

"Hey." Fakir's voice shook her from her reverie. He was leaning against her door jamb with his arms crossed. "Do you want to go out today?"

Ahiru blinked and dropped the pendant. "You mean to the library?"

Fakir looked away, his cheeks flushing red, "I mean… we can. But I was thinking more like…" He paused and tried desperately to look anywhere but at her. "Wecouldgetlunchorsomething." He mumbled.

"You want to go to a restaurant?"

"Don't read into it, idiot!" He huffed. "I was thinking you could probably use some time out of the house."

Ahiru grinned. "I'd like that." She stood with a stretch. "When do you want to go?"

"I was thinking more towards noon. I know you hate having your morning routine interrupted."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I do not!" She paused before adding, "It doesn't bother me that much!"

Fakir raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything.

Ahiru sent a sideways glare at him. "Fine. I'll go start cleaning now." She collected her basket of dirty laundry and brushed past the writer with a sassy 'hmph!'.

There was rarely much laundry to do since Ahiru did it so often, but she found Charon's clothes, which were often sooty from the smithy, usually gave her a bit of work. After collecting the laundry from both men's rooms, she headed to the back with her washboard.

Once the weather started getting warmer, she was able to move her laundry operation outside. She loved being able to soak in the warm sun while she cleaned. Though, she quickly learned the importance of keeping an eye on the weather, as she did leave the clothes out in the rain once or twice.

After filling her tub with water, Ahiru began her daily duty. The repetitive motion was relaxing and allowed her mind to wander. Somedays she'd fall into fantasies of Charon and Fakir praising her superior laundry abilities. 'How did we ever get along without you?' they'd fawn. Other times she'd make up silly, ill-plotted ballets with romantic subplots and happy endings. Today, she felt reminiscent. The tub water reminded her of the lake somehow.

'It wasn't so bad,' Ahiru thought. 'Being a duck. I never had to worry about much, there was plenty of yummy fish and pondweed to eat. There weren't many other ducks around, so I never had to fight to eat...'

She hung the pair of pants she was working on and started scrubbing at a white shirt. 'There really weren't many other ducks, were there?' She mused. 'Was it because of some remnants of Drosselmeyer's story? Maybe animals are more sensitive to that kind of magic, I mean I wasn't the only animal that turned human… or humanoid.'

Ahiru stopped scrubbing to rinse the shirt. 'You know, I don't think any of the few ducks I did run in to understood me… or was it that I didn't understand them…?'

She ignored the creeping sense of loneliness and, satisfied with her work, hung the shirt to dry. 'Did I ever even have a conversation with another duck?'

Without looking at the next article of clothing she picked from her basket, she submerged it in her scrubbing tub. 'Surely… I had friends before all this right? Do ducks have friends?'

The blue-eyed girl couldn't bring herself to move her arms anymore. 'Didn't I have siblings? Most ducks have more than one duckling at a time… What about my parents? Did I know my parents?'

She thought back to when Charon had asked her about her parents. She had realized then she didn't have any clue about her history, but suddenly she felt an aching chasm where a family was supposed to be.

Her body felt heavy as she tried to recall anything from her past, from her life before Mytho. 'I—I had a family, right?' Nothing was coming to her mind, not even a feeling as though a memory was just within grasp. She desperately tried to remember any little detail: what her parents looked like, what they sounded like, any inkling of a brother or a sister. 'I didn't just pop into existence…'

A horrible thought entered her mind, unbidden. Did she pop into existence? Could Drosselmeyer have written her into existence along with his story? Was her only reason for existence to be a tragic heroine?

Ahiru's vision began to tunnel and she could swear malicious laughter was rolling in the distance.


Fakir looked at the clock on the wall. Ahiru was taking longer than usual with the laundry. He couldn't help but sigh. Who knew what was slowing her down this time. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Normally he would use the free time to work on his writing or at least focus on his research. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't keep his mind trained on any one thing.

The minute hand clicked forward a fraction.

The knight couldn't take another second of waiting, and it wasn't even time to go to lunch. Not that he was excited to go to lunch. Not with her anyway. He was just wistful and had a case of the wandering mind.

'God,' he mentally reprimanded himself, 'that moron is rubbing off on me.'

The minute hand clicked forward another fraction.

Fakir stood up. "I better check on her… make sure she didn't drown in the wash basin."

Ahiru didn't drown, but she certainly wasn't acting normal. She was kneeling in front of the wash tub, her back straight and stiff. Her arms hung limply in the water as she stared, transfixed, into space.

"Ahiru?"

She didn't respond.

Fakir frowned and cautiously approached her. "Ahiru?" He repeated a little louder. When she didn't respond again, he rested his hand on her shoulder.

Ahiru jolted, "Huh?! What?!" She flailed around a bit before her large, blue eyes focused on Fakir's face. "Oh, Fakir!" She laughed in embarrassment and scratched her head.

Fakir arched an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" She answered, maybe a little too quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?" She added a second later, for good measure.

He eyed the pile of laundry. Though already small, she had only washed a few pieces so far. With a deep sigh he sat across from her and put his hand out. "Here, I'll rinse, you scrub."

The girl's lips curled into a soft smile and she rung the dirty, soapy water out of the drenched laundry and handed them to him.

Fakir thanked her and started to lower the clothing into the water when his mind processed a faint glimmer he had seen near her chest. His stomach dropped.

Was her pendant gray?

His eyes shot back to the gem in question, which sparkled white in the sunlight. He squinted. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

"Fakir?" He noticed Ahiru was staring at him questioningly.

Averting his eyes, he waved her off. "Thought I saw something. It was nothing." Fakir mentally stocked the potential information away in his mind. Maybe it really was nothing—but maybe it was something important.


Between the two of them, they were able to make quick work of the few remaining articles of clothing. Fakir managed to talk Ahiru out of washing the floors, after insisting she'd wash through the floorboards at the rate she was going. It was a tad earlier than they wanted, but they decided they were both sufficiently hungry to go get lunch.

"Where are we going?" Ahiru asked for the fifth time.

"I told you, a popular restaurant near the forest."

"Yeah," she drawled, "but what's it called?"

Fakir ignored her and kept walking along the path.

"Faki-ir!" she whined.

He pointed further down the path. "Look, we're almost there."

Ahiru turned her attention to the path. The area actually seemed fairly familiar. A building nestled amongst the trees came into view. That looked familiar, too. Despite being before the lunch rush, there were already quite a few outdoor tables filled. A wooden sign hung along a wooden gate that read 'geöffnet,' announcing to the world the business was open.

"Wait…" Ahiru squinted her eyes. This clearing in the forest. This pathway. This restaurant. It was all very familiar. "… is this…?"

As they drew closer she gasped. "Ebine?" Her head whipped to look at Fakir. "How did you know about this restaurant!?"

The knight smiled, pleased with himself. "I had a feeling."

Ahiru stopped walking alongside him and gave him an unimpressed look. "Really."

He shrugged and continued walking, forcing her to follow suit. "I remember finding Mytho here one day with Rue. It was one of the first times he mentioned Princess Tutu to me. Back then, I didn't know who Princess Tutu was and focused on finding you, completely forgetting about the restaurant."

Ahiru thanked him quietly when he opened the wooden gate for her. "Recently, Charon got an order from here, which reminded me of the whole occasion. After connecting the dots that weren't there at the time, I thought you might like to come back."

She grinned widely at him and turned her attention to the restaurant. It had changed quite a bit, actually. The wooden porch had been extended to allow more outside diners, and it looked like an addition was added to the building. The roof was still a warm reddish-brown and the restaurant's name still had its original script above the door crowned with a grape vine motif.

"It's gotten quite popular so the owner has had to expand and hire another chef and some more waiters."

She smiled to herself as they entered the building, glad to see Ebine had improved her cooking and saw her and her husband's restaurant become successful again.

The namesake of the restaurant herself stood behind the hostess stand and greeted them. Her hair was still up in her signature bouffant, but a few gray hairs were peppered throughout. Her features had aged a little, and she had gained some weight, but she still looked as exuberant as ever. "Hello, and welcome to Ebine! I'm the owner, and head chef, Ebine!" She pulled out two menus and beamed at them. "Would you like an indoor seat, or an outdoor seat?"

"Uhh…" the overflowing enthusiasm was just as overwhelming to Ahiru now as it was then.

Luckily Fakir was unfazed. "Indoor will be fine."

"Oh excellent!" She turned to lead them to their table. "So how did you find my little restaurant? Did a friend tell you?"

"Something like that," Fakir replied.

Ebine stopped beside a table next to a window. "Will this do?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Ah, yeah, thank you!" Ahiru added as she sat in her chair.

"Wonderful! I'll be back with some water while you look at your menus!" She handed both of them a menu and bustled off.

Ahiru looked around. The interior had been updated a bit, but it still held its homey appeal. She hummed happily and looked at the menu. After skimming it briefly she realized she was entirely out of her element. Sure, she knew general foods and was learning more based on the meals she sometimes helped Charon make, but most of the words meant nothing to her. At least there were headings. She deliberated for just a moment before deciding fish sounded best and settled on a meal with rainbow trout.

She glanced up across the table to see Fakir was looking at her. She made a face at him. "What?"

"Have you decided what you want?"

Ahiru nodded. "I think so. Have you?"

"Yeah, I'll probably get the lunch special." He paused before changing the subject, "You know, I noticed earlier that your p—"

"Here's your water, dears!" Ebine announced as she set two ice cold cups of water before them. "Are you ready to order?"

Fakir exhaled in slight annoyance at the interruption, but responded anyway. "I'll have the lunch special."

"Oh, wonderful choice! You know we make the best spätzle in town. Soup or salad?"

"Soup."

Ebine nodded and turned her attention to Ahiru. "And you sweetie?"

The duck bit her bottom lip before beginning, "I'll have the rainbow trout mew-moo-moony… uhh…" she tapped her finger on the menu and showed it to the older woman. "This."

The head chef leaned over and inspected the menu where the girl was pointing. "Rainbow trout meunière?" Ahiru nodded, prompting Ebine to stand back up. "Excellent! And soup or salad for you?"

"Uhm… salad?"

"Will that be all for you two?"

They both nodded and Ahiru was worried for a moment she would try and force even more food on them, but she grinned broadly and took the menus from them. "I'll get your order in right away! It'll be just a few moments!"

Ahiru watched as the woman walked away, a bounce ever-present in her step. She turned to Fakir with a laugh. "You know, when Mytho and I were here, she was so desperate to feed anyone she gave us all this food for free! It was so cold though. Even the food that looked hot and had steam coming from it!" She wrapped her hands around her glass and looked at the water within. "To be fair, she was under the influence of a heart shard."

Fakir gave her a slight smile. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or not for the interruption, but decided not to proceed with his earlier conversation. "I doubt the food is cold now, considering."

"I sure hope so!" She took a sip of her water before continuing. "Her late husband was the head chef and together they ran a successful business. After he passed she really struggled and said she wanted to see their restaurant become wonderful again. I'm glad her hard work made her dreams come true!"

"It is rather popular now."

"Your soup!" Ebine's energetic voice interjected as she set a bowl of steaming soup before Fakir. "And your salad!" She set a small plate of salad in front of Ahiru. "Enjoy!" And just as abruptly as she arrived, she skipped off.

"Oooh! The soup looks great!" Ahiru tried not to drool over the divine smell.

"Maybe you should've ordered it." Fakir raised his eyebrows almost challengingly. She pouted, causing Fakir to sigh and offer her his spoon. "Alright, you can try a bite, if you'd like."

Ahiru squealed with glee and leaned across the table while reaching for the utensil. She hesitated only briefly for fear of cold food before slurping up what was in the spoon. "Ahh." A small 'thump' sounded out as she sat back into her chair. "Nice and hot." She looked down at her salad before stabbing some lettuce, cucumber, and bell pepper with her fork. "Here, try some of my salad!" She held the fork across the table expectantly.

Fakir's face flushed. "D-Don't be ridiculous!"

She frowned, "Whaddaya mean? I tried your soup, you should try my salad!"

Fakir glanced around the restaurant. Two other indoor tables were occupied, but none of their occupants seemed to be paying them any attention. By the time his eyes fell back on Ahiru's face, her cheeks were puffed in indignation. "Fine!" He quickly bit off the morsels on the fork she held out to him and leaned back, training his eyes anywhere but at her as he chewed.

She grinned, satisfied. "Is it good?" she asked. Before waiting for his answer, she began digging into her salad. "Ith if guf!" She slurred out over a mouthful of boiled egg and tomato.

The writer tried to quell his embarrassment and focus on his soup. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, idiot."

Ahiru swallowed her mouthful. "Ooops, sorry!" She took another bite.

By the time Ebine was delivering their main course, Fakir was just finishing his soup and Ahiru was long done with her salad. "I'll take these dishes for you." The older woman cooed and picked up their dishes. "Enjoy your lunch!"

Ahiru's mouth watered just looking at the trout—she was glad she decided on fish. She made short work of her meal and the included side of asparagus, making small talk with Fakir between bites.

To Fakir's relief—and maybe just a little disappointment that he wasn't going to acknowledge—Ahiru did not insist he eat some of her fish. He had more than enough food, anyway. To Ebine's credit, she wasn't lying, their spätzle was the best he'd had in quite a while. Fakir couldn't help but steal quick glances at the girl sitting across from him as she enjoyed her food. She always looked so happy when she ate.

"Would you like to try some?" The words came out of his mouth without his consent, and his traitorous arm was offering some cheese covered spätzle across the table.

Ahiru's eyes lit up and she leaned across the table, gladly taking the bite off his fork. "Mmm!" She closed her eyes as she leaned back into her seat. "That's delicious."

Even through the deep red staining his face, Fakir smiled at her. "It is."

Looking down at her own plate, she frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't have any fish left to share with you." She seemed unperturbed by the fact that this was not their norm when eating.

Fakir shrugged it off, "I have too much food as is. Don't worry about it."

She pursed her lips to the side in disappointment and sunk down into her chair. A moment passed before she perked back up. "Say Fakir, can we go for a walk around town after this?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "Did you want to go somewhere in particular?"

She shook her head while admiring the décor. "Not really, I just haven't been on a walk recently."

Worried for his mental health if he kept going at this pace, Fakir quickly finished his food. Ebine must have been keeping a watchful eye on them because she arrived not too long after.

"Would you like dessert?" She asked expectantly.

"Ah, no thanks." Ahiru waved her hand dismissively in front of her face with a smile.

Ebine made small talk in her usual animated way as she waited for Fakir to pay the bill. He handed the necessary amount and they exchanged pleasant goodbyes before the two took their leave of the establishment.

Ahiru crossed her arms casually behind her head as they walked back down the path side by side. "Thanks, Fakir," she grinned. "Lunch was delicious and it was so nice to see Ebine is doing so well."

Fakir shrugged and stayed silent, but a soft smile graced his lips. Ahiru had been acting fairly subdued the past month and he was thankful the outing had lifted her spirits. And maybe he was a little pleased they had a nice time together… alone… on purpose… just a little. Autor and Ahiru had been going on small outings every week or so, and he would be entirely lying if he said it didn't bother him—and he certainly did say that—but, the subtle gloom that had settled over her didn't lift as cleanly after their time together as it had today. Fakir happily claimed this as his silent victory.

"Say, Fakir… what do you remember about your parents?"

He stopped, surprised at the abruptness of the question. "What?"

Ahiru scratched her neck and looked away, suddenly aware of how charged that question probably was. "I-I mean… like-like do you…" She waved her hands in front of her haphazardly, "You know what? Never mind, it was a stupid question, huh?"

Fakir started walking alongside her again, silence weighing heavily between them. Finally, he said, "I remember them mostly in form. You've seen the pictures Charon saved from my parents' home on his walls. My mother had long brown hair and my father had short hair the same color as mine. He was very… brave and didn't talk much. She was very gentle… and warm." He gave a half laugh and shot Ahiru a crooked smile when he saw her staring at him with her wide eyes. "It was a long time ago and I was pretty young; I didn't really know them. I guess I avoid the subject, but I don't mind talking about it with you."

The corners of her mouth turned upwards as she folded her arms behind her back and looked at the ground. "I don't remember my parents, either…"

Fakir looked at her in bewilderment. "Hm?"

She pursed her lips and shrugged.

The writer looked back ahead of him. "You know, Charon always told me it doesn't matter who your parents were, because you're your own person."

Ahiru glanced down an alley when a flash of light brown disappeared around a distant corner. "Ye—" A sudden warmth in her chest caused her to look down where her pendant glittered white. "—AH!" She clutched the stone in panic and looked at Fakir.

"What's wrong?" Concern painted his features as he regarded her.

She laughed awkwardly. "Ah ha ha… n-nothing! Just tripped! Haha, I'm such a klutz."

He sighed and shook his head. "Idiot, be careful."

"Heh heh, yeah…" Ahiru looked at the pendant. It was no longer glowing. 'A fragment? But where?' She took note of the nearby shops and made plans to return later to investigate. Should she go now, though? To make sure whoever had the fragment didn't go too far? She nervously bit her lip and peeked through her bangs at Fakir. How was she going to get rid of him, though? They had already walked a few blocks away and she getting increasingly anxious.

"Fakir?" she tried.

"Hm?"

"Er, that is… I just remembered…"

Fakir stopped and turned to her. "What is it?"

She desperately raked her brain for a plausible excuse. "I'm supposed to uh…" She already did the laundry. She agreed not to wash the floors today. Already ate lunch. Didn't have any friends to g—oh, but she did have a friend she could've made plans with. "IforgotIhadplans. With Autor! To go… hang out! I better go, sorry!" She jogged back, waving over her shoulder before sprinting around a corner.

Fakir sighed. He wanted to go to the library, anyway. The last thing he needed was Ahiru being nosy and wanting to know what he was researching. She didn't need to know about his most recent concerns with the stone on her necklace.

The sinking feeling of disappointment was a bit distracting, though.

So much for his silent victory.


Ahiru had been running along the streets, backtracking where she and Fakir had been walking and along the alleyways adjoining. Her pendant didn't flash as it had earlier, and she was getting discouraged. A few hours had passed and not even a clue to what could've been the fragment. She thought back to the light brown she had seen. What was it? Someone's shoe? A dress? A kid dragging a toy around? She had only seen it a fraction of a second, and her memory was getting fuzzier every time she tried to recall it. What if it the brown thing had nothing to do with the fragment and she was chasing the wrong thing?

She groaned in frustration as she leaned back heavily against a parapet on a bridge before sliding down to the ground. "How am I supposed to find the stupid thing?" With a pointed glare at her pendant she leaned her head back. "Why do I even have to find these fragments? What is this even working towards?"

The world came to a screeching, yet somber, halt.

"Now, now, now," a booming voice pervaded the area, "we had a deal, little duck."

"Drosselmeyer!"

The voice chuckled as he appeared, sneering eyes first, before her. "Did you miss me, little duck?"

"No." She muttered out the side of her mouth as she glared up at him.

He laughed. "Cheeky!" He added with feigned sadness, "I'm hurt."

Ahiru huffed, too tired and already annoyed with her hunt to humor him. "What do you want this time?"

"Straight to the chase, then, eh? Not a very interesting story telling device, that…"

"I'm not playing along this time." Ahiru stood and dusted herself off.

"That's dangerous thinking, there. A character shouldn't stray from her role."

She looked at the large face filling a shadow on the building across the street. "If you're writing a story, why don't you just write someone else to do it?" She turned away and started crossing the bridge.

His face apparated before her, now struggling to fit in the acute shadow of the parapet. "Write someone else into the story? That's just lazy writing! Plus," Drosselmeyer paused and switched to a shadow further down the street, "does the town look like it's under the influence of story magic?"

Ahiru glanced around her. "Well everyone's disappeared, so…" She was being difficult on purpose, but he had a point. Now that he had mentioned it, no one was extraordinarily strange, not even those she removed the fragments—whatever they were—from. There were no humanoid animals, and people were able to travel through Goldkrone town normally. Then again, who's to say Drosselmeyer's last story wasn't just a weird one.

"Oh, haha. Yes, it does seem no one is around you." He moved his face to a larger, closer shadow on a house. "Children are so impudent these days…" he muttered under his breath, "write someone else into the story," he mocked in a higher voice.

Ahiru ignored him and walked past the house.

He materialized into a shadow near her. "Regardless, you can't take off that pendant like you could all those years before, little duck."

She stopped, a hand unbiddenly touching the pearlescent stone.

Sensing he found his in, he continued, "Besides, you've seen the pain those carrying fragments hold. Don't you want to help them?"

He took her silence as answer enough. "Of course you do, my little duck! One can never go wrong with you as the heroine."

"What are you do—"

The world came back just as screechingly as it had gone out, the sudden color almost blinding to its earlier desaturated hues.

"—ing…" she finished lamely. She sighed, no point in asking questions he wasn't even there to answer. 'As if he would answer if he were.'

Down the road, a crowd was gathered and a deep, tempestuous tune sang out amidst the appreciative gasps. She couldn't help but be curious, and considering the afternoon she was having, she felt she deserved a little bit of a break. The crowd was a little dense, but thanks to her petite figure she was able to squeeze in far enough to see the source of music.

A cellist sat on a couple wooden crates and intoned a sonorous melody while two ballet dancers performed a pas de deux. The ballerina moved with the flowing grace achieved only with years of diligent practice. Ahiru watched with captivated eyes as the danseur performed a lift, making his partner look lighter than a feather.

Warmth filled to her chest, causing her to look down. Her pendant was gleaming. 'It's here?!' Her eyes shot up as she scanned the area. 'But who?'

The crowd was large enough she wasn't sure she'd be able to pick the source of the fragment out amongst them. It could be anybody: one of the street performers, someone in the audience, even a passerby. She was ready to cry out in frustration when her eyes caught it.

Towards the edge of the crowd across from her sat a light brown—almost taupe—cat sitting rapt with attention. She couldn't explain how, but she just knew. She knew it was the cat.

Not wanting to lose track of the slippery feline again, she kept her eyes trained on it as she fought her way along the crowd. As she got closer, that cat must've sensed her interest in it and turned to flee.

"No, no! Don't you dare!" Ahiru cried as she pushed her way out of the crowd in pursuit of the runaway.

Panic washed over her body at the mere thought of having to look all over town again for this cat should she lose it. Yes, at least she'd know what she was looking for, but finding a cat that doesn't want to be found wasn't going to be any easier—and she certainly couldn't go flitting around town already transformed. She could've screamed when she saw it dart around a corner of an alleyway, and sprinted even harder.

"Please," she whined desperately, "I just want to help!" She came to a skidding stop when she turned the corner and he was nowhere to be seen. "No, nonono!" Ahiru groaned and sunk to her knees. "I just want to help…" she repeated under her breath.

A soft trill to her left drew her attention. There, crouched under some wooden debris, was the cat. It stared up at her with wide, olive green eyes, and the longer it stared at her the less hesitant it seemed. The cat seemed almost familiar. The color of the coat, the creamy-tan paws and snout, the eyes…

Ahiru stared a moment longer before whispering, "Mr. Cat?"

He responded with another low trill.

"I can help…" she murmured before being consumed by the warmth of her transformation.

By the time she was standing en pointe before him, he had already crawled out from under the debris and had hopped up on top of it. He trilled again.

"What pains you so?" She leaned forward and offered him a delicate hand.

He sniffed it before looking back up at her. I don't know.

She pulled back in surprise. He didn't speak, but she could understand him. She hadn't been entirely sure it was Mr. Cat before, but the voice she had heard was undeniably his.

Princess Tutu kneeled before him. "Are you sure? Does it have to do with the ballet dancers?"

Is that what they are called? It sounds right… He stood up and sniffed the feather-like strands protruding from her scalp. I don't know, it seemed so familiar. They perform there often, it makes me feel… wistful.

This gave her pause. Like her, Mr. Cat was forced to go back to his original form: a cat. She, better than anyone else, understood the pain he felt. What it was like to want to dance. What it was like to be limited by her animal form. What it was like to have had the ability only for a little while before it was taken away. She, however, was given a magical out. How could she possibly help soothe his pain, when she had suffered it and taken the easy way?

Luckily, he did not wait for her to speak. I have achieved my greatest dream: I have love. I have a wonderful mate and have had many kittens with her.

Princess Tutu smiled at this. She had been threatened with marriage enough times to know how happy this probably made him.

We've had two litters now, and our first six are all adults making their own families—three of them were even taken in as pets. This is all I've ever wanted, but I still feel unfulfilled.

Dance had been so important to him during the story. She remembered his story of his treasured slippers and how he got them from "the great Meowsinski," and she remembered how devastated he was when Mytho, under the influence of raven's blood, had destroyed them. How could dance not leave a gaping hole in his heart?

She stood and performed her signature mime, "Won't you come dance with me, Mr. Cat?"

Dance? But I am just a cat.

"Even a cat," Princess Tutu began, "can dance if they feel it in their soul." With every word she felt more confidant in the direction her heart told her to take her advice. "You feel it in your soul, don't you?"

I… do.

She smiled at him and inclined her head encouragingly.

He took to it as naturally as a cat turned ballet teacher turned cat could. He switched between attempting on two legs to all fours depending on how easily the movements came to him. Together, they took tiny steps, bourrée en couru.

This, this feels right, like I was meant to do this. How can I give it up?

"You do not have to, don't you see?" Princess Tutu led him through fouettés, with as much grace as a feline could muster.

But my body does not move as a human's does.

"Then make your own movements. Let the music fill your body and take you away." She turned on her toe and jumped, pas de chat.

How will I share my passion? He mimicked her actions almost perfectly.

She drew her chest down to her shins in a bow before straightening back out. "With your family. Show your mate how to feel the music. Share it with your kittens." Keeping her upper body rigid, she performed an entrechat trois.

The cat leapt in the air, performing his own entrechat six, ending in a plie and transitioning into another pas de chat. You're right! What good is love if I cannot share my passions. I can bring my family to watch the street performers and dance the night away with them in the alleyways. He landed on all fours and bowed his body to her. Thank you, for giving my joy back.

Princess Tutu curtsied elegantly back to him. "Not at all, it was always inside of you."

Mr. Cat mewed as a dark light shot from his chest and into her pendant, his body crumpling in its wake.

Tutu gasped, "Mr. Cat!" as her own body was brought to its knees. With a shuddering moan, she crawled closer to him and lightly caressed his face. She was relieved to feel he was still breathing—not that there had been a precedent of fragment or even heart shard carriers to die, but seeing his tiny body unmoving was disconcerting.

She groaned and let her transformation fall, her energy was sapped, and it was simply too difficult to keep it up. Tiredly, she pulled Mr. Cat into her lap and cradled him. "I guess I'm not alone in the wounds the story left, huh?" She absentmindedly stroked his cheeks and rubbed at the base of his ears.

Ahiru scooted back to the brick wall behind them and leaned against it. At least she didn't pass out this time. Something about passing out in an alleyway seemed rather unsafe. She was utterly exhausted though. Her chest felt heavy and even holding her head up seemed a chore. Even if she could move, she wasn't about to leave Mr. Cat defenseless. Letting her head fall on her shoulder, she looked down at him. He looked like he was doing well on his own, at least he seemed to be well fed. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to fall asleep.

About an hour passed before she heard a soft mew from beside her. Ahiru cracked open an eye. Sitting on her right was a white cat, seemingly concerned about the sleeping lump in her lap. Ahiru smiled. "Are you his kitty wife?" She moved the arm that was cupped around his back, allowing the white cat to sniff at him.

The cat eyed her suspiciously before licking Mr. Cat's back. This apparently was enough to jostle him awake, as Ahiru could feel a deep rumble in her legs as he started purring. A moment passed before he trilled at her and stretched, kicking his front and back legs out as far as they could go. He trilled again as he opened his eyes, pausing as his wide eyes stopped on Ahiru's face. His pupils adjusted from wide to small back to a medium size as he stared at her. Cautiously, he sniffed her left hand before butting his head against it and resuming his purring.

Ahiru gently patted his head. "Are you feeling better, Mr. Cat?"

He cooed and stood up with another stretch.

"Your wifey's here, you better go," she giggled.

Mr. Cat pressed his paws against her chest and rubbed his cheek to hers. In a flash, he was gone, the white cat running off beside him.

Ahiru smiled and rubbed her temple. Her head had been throbbing a little, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in the past. Maybe her body was finally adjusting to the demand her responsibilities as Princess Tutu put on her. She stood up unsteadily, using the wall to help her balance. Giving herself a moment to adjust, she went on her way. "Hopefully Fakir's not mad I stayed out so late…"


Drosselmeyer laughed as he rocked in his favorite chair, the boisterous sound mixing with the clicking of the omnipotent gears surrounding him. Before him was a viewing gear reflecting Ahiru's weary face as she walked back to Charon's house.

"Ooh, how expected of our heroine!" He eyed the gray stone shining in the setting sun with a grin. "Things are moving along quite nicely.

An indignant 'tip tap tat' rang out from beside him.

"Where's the love-love, zura?!"

Drosselmeyer pouted for only a moment as he looked down at his seafoam green haired companion. "Oh, I know." He looked back at the girl trudging along in the gear. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what we talked about."

Uzura rapped at her drum, "So Ahiru and Fakir will be lucky-ducky, lovey-dovey, zura?"

Drosselmeyer shrugged. "Maybe."

She glared up at him petulantly.

"Come now, I haven't forgotten," he repeated. "After all, the sweetest tragedies come from the fall of the happiest of lives."

It was Uzura's turn to pout, "What about their lovey-dovey, zura?"

The old man patted her head, "I can't make them fall in love, Uzura, that's up to them." He pulled his hand back up and scratched at his whiskered chin. "Speaking of love, I wonder how that useless writer descendant of mine is doing at trying to thwart me…" He sniggered, "And yet the answer is so close to him! Oh, how delicious!"

The gear's picture switched to one of a young man bent over a weathered book. Drosselmeyer's grin broadened.


Fakir straightened his back with a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. He had been going at this for hours, but he could hardly concentrate. Of course, he knew in his heart of hearts he wouldn't get much of anywhere. The knight had long ago exhausted this library's catalog of books on stones, gems, and anything of that nature—magical or fairytale or not. It frustrated him to no end that even with this potential new lead, he was no closer to figuring anything out than he had been when he found her at the edge of the lake.

Her smiling face flashed in his mind.

"IforgotIhadplans. With Autor!"

He growled. If only those damn words would stop replaying in his head, he would've been able to concentrate and maybe then he would've found something.

"I better go, sorry!"

Fakir was ready to slam his face into the table. He hated that it bothered him so much. He hated that she was completely unaware that Autor was trying to court her. He hated that she was even interested in hanging out with that nerd in the first place. He hated that she did so so often. He hated that she left their date to go be with—

"It wasn't a date!" Fakir startled himself by his sudden proclamation. He looked around awkwardly to make sure no one had heard him. Luckily, no one was around him.

He was just frazzled and stressed out from researching nonstop for so long. That was all. He supposed he should probably call it quits for the day.

Standing, Fakir gathered the pile of books he had been looking through in his arms. Unfortunately, he had chosen a spot further away from the book cart. Groaning, he trudged across the library. He mentally prayed Charon would make something heavier for dinner so it would put him out of his misery quick when he went to bed.

"No way, you're making that up!" A girl hidden amongst the stacks squealed incredulously.

Another girl responded, "I am not! I saw it with my own two eyes!"

Fakir rolled his eyes, he was never one to partake in any gossip. Especially, as was his experience in school, since he was often a victim of it. He walked past the shelves the girls were standing between briskly.

"It was a huge swan!" The second girl insisted. "Dancing around a giant tree!"

Fakir's body froze and his ears burned. A swan?

A scoff sounded out from the first girl. "Yeah, you keep saying that! In that clearing by the watermill with all the rocks. You know, where there's no tree."

Fakir darted into the stacks behind them, trying his best to be discreet while getting as close as possible to the two.

"It was there, I'm telling you, I saw it!" The second girl stomped her foot.

"So how did a big ol' tree grow and get cut down over night?"

"I don't know, but it was there!"

The first girl sighed in exasperation. "When did you see it, again?"

"About a month ago…"

"You mean when you had a go at your pop's liquor cabinet?"

The second girl whined, "I promise that had nothing to do with it! I really did see it!"

"Uh huh. Or you were drunk off your rocker."

Silence rang out between the two before the first girl added sympathetically. "I believe you think you saw something. Who knows what it was. Besides, wasn't that the day of that blizzard? It was probably just snow."

The second girl groaned and started walking off, upset she was obviously getting nowhere at getting her friend to believe her. Unbeknownst to either of them, she had definitely at least piqued someone else's interest.

Fakir furrowed his brow as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard. A giant swan and a tree by the watermill? But that's where the oak tree was… He stiffened as his mind reached the only possible conclusion he could come to.

"It can't be… Princess Tutu?"


A/N: I really wanted to get this out for Valentine's Day, but here we are, ten days later. C'est la vie. But, hey, it's much better than my old updating schedule, you know, every few years or so. Anyway, I had fun writing Mr. Cat, even though it was a bit more challenging, especially since I know very little about ballet as is, so trying to write a cat doing ballet is much more difficult. So, if anyone actually knows anything about ballet and thinks my choreography (or written execution) is way off and super awkward, please feel free to correct me. I spend a few hours researching ballet every chapter, but it obviously doesn't compare with someone with actual know-how.

Does anyone else have a furry little chatterbox who trills and coos more than meows? I used my cat as inspiration for Mr. Cat's mannerisms, and he talks talks talks all the time, but he usually doesn't meow unless he's in another room. Cats, brah.