Once upon a time there was an angry man. The man was angry as he and his town were plagued by the scourge of a wicked sorcerer. Everyday this angry man would meet with his equally angry friends and lament the treachery of the fiend. One day, they decided to take up arms to save the town from this villain and were even able to defeat him. But, perhaps, they didn't make things better at all.

The summer heat was blistering and had made the smithy almost unbearable. Fakir's arms ached from helping Charon forge an order for a wrought iron gate. Usually, Fakir worked as a striker for Charon, but today Charon had him work on drawing and punching. While Fakir had drawn before, the more detail-oriented work of punching seemed to make use of muscles he didn't normally use. At least, that's what his screaming muscles seemed to suggest. He was grateful Charon let him go earlier than normal.

The past two weeks had been tough. Not long ago, it had been him avoiding her because of a kiss, and now it was Ahiru who had been avoiding him—possibly because of a kiss, but he wasn't sure because she was avoiding him. She had been making a good show of it, cooking and eating with a big grin, but immediately excusing herself once she was done eating her meal. Somehow, she always found a reason to be busy or out of the house. He assumed it was to keep Charon from worrying and, considering Charon hadn't said a single word about it to him, he figured it must be working.

Fakir knew Ahiru better than that, though. She had sunk into a depressive state, spending most of her time alone. And, of course, whenever he tried to talk to her, she somehow managed to see him coming and find a way to dodge him. She had given him space when he didn't want to talk, and he wanted to extend her the same courtesy—except it was incredibly hard.

He didn't know where he had gone wrong. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. The fire was illuminating her enchanting blue eyes and highlighting the orange tones in her poppy-colored hair. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. The soft smile, her flushed cheeks, the captivating expression on her face. She was gorgeous. The flower crown upon her head gave her an ethereal look—like a wood nymph donning the height of German renaissance fashion.

He couldn't handle it. The way she was looking up at him with such hazy intensity. He shouldn't have asked her if he could kiss her, especially not after everything that had transpired earlier in the day, but he couldn't help himself. The breathy quality to her voice was just too much. And when she nodded, he was certain he had died and gone to heaven.

And then, suddenly, she gone. With a horrified expression marring her beautiful features, she pulled away from him and ran. He chased after her, naturally, but she always was an extraordinary runner. After losing her for a period of time, he found her crumpled on the forest ground, crying. She wouldn't say anything to him, and everything he said just seemed to make her cry harder. She apparently hurt her ankle at some point, so he ended up carrying her home. Thankfully, Charon had long gone to bed by the time they got home, so he was able to get Ahiru up to her room without any incident, but that was the last time he spent any extended amount of time alone with Ahiru. She'd been expertly avoiding him since.

Normally, Fakir would've taken this as a rejection. She reconsidered kissing him, found the thought abhorrent, ran, and now didn't want anything to do with him. There were times he certainly felt like that was likely the case. Times when the nagging voice in his head told him he wasn't worthwhile and she could see that. Except… she had been right there, right in front of his face, his fingers urging her chin towards him. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes closed, and she was just about to say… something.

"I think… I—"

And then she wasn't. It wasn't like she had just pulled away from him, she never pulled her face away. Her face was there, and then it wasn't. She had still been in his arms, but, impossibly, the location of and expression on her face changed instantaneously. Fakir had only had Ahiru disappear on him like that once before, when Uzura was in the middle of trying to pour water on her. One moment Ahiru was a duck, laying in his bed with water well on its descent towards her, and in an instant, she was completely gone. Upon looking out the window, he found she reappeared outside his house. There was only one possible cause of such an occurrence.

Drosselmeyer.

Ahiru clearly knew more than she let on, and it was frustrating beyond reason. Ahiru's sudden transformation back into a girl, all the reported appearances of Princess Tutu, and now what had happened at the end of the Fire Festival… Fakir didn't like it one bit. The only person who seemed to have any clue what was happening was Ahiru, and that seemed all the more obvious by how much she was avoiding him.

Today, Fakir decided enough was enough. He had wanted to give her space to come to him when she was ready, but with what happened at the Fire Festival, it no longer seemed that would be an option. Today, Fakir was going to get answers.

Ahiru hadn't been outside, or in the kitchen. He did his best to avoid the creaky stairs as he made his way to her room. He knocked loudly and waited a moment before opening the door.

He narrowed his eyes.

She wasn't there, either.


Ahiru tucked her legs under her as she skimmed through another occult book. She wasn't quite sure why she was still bothering with it, she hadn't found anything yet. Perhaps the drumming sound she heard was caused by faulty piping… or it was an auditory hallucination from spending too much time reading that day. Regardless, she couldn't shake the feeling that answers were just within her grasp, if only she could read the right passage.

She sighed and closed the book. It seemed like it was of no use. Ahiru leaned her head on her hand, trying to resist the urge to chew on her lip. Needing to expel her unused energy, she twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger as she started lightly thumping her leg against the chair. Her patience was starting to wear thin with researching. She had around five months left by her estimates, and she really needed to figure out how to defeat Drosselmeyer before things got any further. She may have made a mistake in accepting his offer, but she could still turn things around, if only…!

If only she could figure out how to stop him.

Ahiru groaned and let her head drop to the arm of the chair. She's been doing that for the past how ever long, and she really wasn't that much further than when she had started. It was starting to feel helpless.

She shook her head and adjusted her legs so she was more comfortable. She needed a break from focusing on researching so much, or she'd go crazy—or worse, give up.

"I'm becoming Fakir," she chuckled quietly to herself.

'Fakir…' Ahiru sighed again.

Ever since the Fire Festival, she'd been avoiding him. She was just so embarrassed… not to mention devastated. Running away wasn't the best thing to do, though now she sort of understood why Fakir did it… sorta. Pursing her lips, Ahiru tugged down on her bangs. Secretly, she doubted Fakir had as weighty a reason for his fleeing, but it felt counterintuitive to dwell on that feeling.

She wanted a happy ending now more than ever. Her feelings had gotten away from her, and now there was no helping it. So she threw herself into researching. Maybe if she had a solution to the issue, it wouldn't be so terrifying to tell Fakir. Maybe then she could finally tell him everything and have this awful weight lifted from her chest.

And then one day she could tell him she reciprocated his feelings without fearing that she'd turn into a speck of light.

Her face instantly flushed a bright red. Despite avoiding Fakir, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Sure, they had already kissed—well, he kissed her—but, at the Fire Festival…! She buried her face in her hands and flailed about in the chair at the memory. How gently he touched her, how intensely he gazed at her, how close his lips had gotten!

"Can I kiss you?"

She squealed in delight, earning her a harsh shushing from a librarian a few stacks away.

Sputtering an apology, Ahiru tucked her legs back under her body and covered her face with her hands. She couldn't help it. It had been so long since she felt like this. The absolute giddiness that's experienced at the blossoming of love. And she knew he liked—loved!—her back!

And she couldn't confess those feelings, or she'd turn into a speck of light. That, and she was going to die in five months.

Ahiru ran her hand through her bangs in frustration. She wanted to be able to explain herself to Fakir. To apologize for running from him with no explanation, and then continuing to do so for the following two weeks, give or take. How could she explain, though? He'd be furious with her.

Shaking her head, she opened the next book in her stack. She had to figure out how to stop Drosselmeyer. She had to.


The sun was still up, despite how late it was. Such was the way with long summer days, Ahiru supposed. Luckily, it was Charon's day to do dinner, so at least she didn't have to worry about that. After putting the stack of books she was perusing on the return cart, Ahiru made her way to the door of the library. Hopefully by now Fakir had holed himself up in his room for the evening and she could eat without running into him. She felt silly avoiding him like this, and incredibly hypocritical after how upset she was with him for doing the same thing to her, but she really didn't know what to say to him—or how to begin to say it.

As she left the library, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Ahiru swallowed and tried to discreetly look behind her. For nearly two months now, she's had this nagging feeling that someone was watching her, especially when she was around the library. At first she figured it was just her frayed nerves from spending too much time doing "Fakir things," like reading too much, but it persisted.

It was likely Drosselmeyer she decided. Frowning, Ahiru wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight the shiver that ran up her body despite the suffocating summer heat. The memory of the cold, dark inner workings of the story that Drosselmeyer took up residence in haunted her. The metallic click of the gears, the wooden clacking of his marionettes. She closed her eyes and tried to will the memory away. Drosselmeyer was always watching; maybe she was just becoming more aware.

Her heart stopped.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a shadowy, hooded figure following her. In the blistering summer heat it seemed insane to wear something so warm. Whoever it was, they were getting closer. Trying to act as if she hadn't noticed, she casually stretched her arms above her head, hoping they couldn't see how much she was shaking. Sure, she had a magical sadistic writer who happened to be dead currently working towards her tragic death, and she had dealt with a murderous, bloodthirsty crow, but a creepy human stalker with unknown, but likely ill intent? That was a monster she wasn't sure she would ever be ready to face.

No one else seemed to be around, which was odd for the time of day. Ahiru released a shaky breath and reprimanded herself. 'It's okay. You don't know if they're following you. Maybe they just have somewhere to be in the same direction you're going, and they're in a rush.' She ducked into the closest alleyway once she was near enough and picked up her pace a little bit as she hurried to the other end.

'See…? No big deal, they jus—'

The figure turned down the same alley, appearing to be moving even more swiftly.

Her breath hitched in her throat. 'Please don't be following me, please don't be following me!' She forced her legs to move even faster, and when the figure followed suit, she decided it was safe to assume her instincts were correct: the figure was definitely following her.

Soon, she was sprinting down the road, taking as many shortcuts as she could remember. Mentally, she calculated if it would be more or less wise to cut through the forest on her way to Charon's house. Should she even go back to Charon's house? Would it be safe for her to lead this threatening figure to her home, giving them the opportunity to figure out when she was alone and—!? Ahiru shook her head, no, she had to lose them.

She darted down another alley before colliding into someone.

"Ahiru?"

Falling back a bit from the impact, Ahiru looked up at them, instantly recognizing the voice. It was Fakir.

"What're you—"

"—No time!" Ahiru grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her as she bounded down the road.

"Why're you running?" Fakir asked but ran alongside her all the same.

"Someone's following me!"

"What?" Fakir looked behind him, coming to a sudden stop.

Ahiru tugged on his hand impatiently. "No, we've gotta keep going!"

Fakir gripped her hand, stopping her from pulling him any further. "Ahiru. Look." He gestured at the empty alley with his free hand. "There's no one there."

Ahiru puffed, her chest heaving slightly from the effort of running so long. "B-but…?" She shook her head. "I swear. There was someone following me!"

"Well they aren't anymore."

"I must've… lost them…" Ahiru frowned. Had she really lost them? She supposed she was a rather fast runner, but… She felt like they had been right behind her the entire time. It couldn't have been her imagination, could it have?

Fakir nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Ahiru stared at the other end of the alley, half expecting the figure to burst into sight at any moment. A moment passed before she nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"There really was someone following me! Honest!"

She was obviously shaken up, and though Ahiru could be eccentric, Fakir didn't take her for a liar. "I believe you. Maybe they heard me and got scared. Do you want me to go look fo—"

"No!" Ahiru vehemently shook her head.

"What did they look like?"

"I don't know! They had on a hooded cloak and they were just following me, no matter where I went or turned!"

Fakir frowned. Hooded cloak? He put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. They're gone now."

Ahiru looked past him. Hesitating a moment, she looked back up at him, "Can we take the long route home?"

Fakir nodded. "Sure, we can just walk around the town for a bit before heading home if that makes you feel better."

She weighed her options for a moment before nodding. At the very least, if they ran into whoever that was, she wouldn't be alone and could point them out to Fakir. "Okay."

In her attempts to lose the hooded figure, she managed to run past and further away from Charon's house, anyway, and they were not far from the Used Book Store and Autor's house.

"Why don't we go to the park? It's a bit a ways, but it's more open so it might help ease your nerves."

"Okay," Ahiru agreed. It had been a while since she had been to the park, and it was a nice day to sit in the shade of an apple tree.

Silence reigned over them as they walked along the road. Slowly, the roads began showing signs of life again, easing the discomfort in Ahiru's chest. Perhaps there was just something going on by the school which is why no one was out and about.

Ahiru snuck a glance up at Fakir. Now that her heart had slowed and her brain wasn't screaming in panic, she remembered that she was supposed to avoiding him. She wasn't sure how she had planned on reintegrating into his life, but she was sure it wasn't like this. Sensing her stare, he looked down at her, causing her to look away, cheeks flushed.

Scrambling for something to hopefully distract him from her stare, Ahiru blurted, "So what were you doing out here?"

It was Fakir's turn to blush. He didn't want to admit he had been heading to Autor's house to see if she had been over there—nor did he want to admit he had been going through the alleyways to put off having to go to Autor's in case she was there and he'd have to accept that she had chosen the unpleasant man over him. Admittedly, it was lucky he had, as he didn't want to think what would've happened to Ahiru if he hadn't run into her.

Finally, "I was looking for you, actually," he admitted.

Ahiru frowned and stared at her feet as they walked. She knew where this was going. She wasn't ready, but it was apparently going to happen regardless.

"We need to talk."

A moment passed before Ahiru responded. "I know."

Another moment of silence passed as Fakir collected his thoughts. Maybe he should've planned what he wanted to say; all the questions that have been festering since she became a girl again began fighting to come out. He needed a logical order, but he didn't have one. Where was he supposed to start?

As they drew nearer to the park, the smell of pizza from the pizzeria wafted through the air. A forgiving, cool breeze blew past them, rustling their hair and making the heat a bit more bearable. Fakir swallowed and steeled his nerves.

"Ahiru… you know, don't you? How you became a girl again."

Ahiru swallowed. The need to run was rising in her stomach, but she pushed it down. At this point, she owed him some honesty. "Yeah…" she whispered.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He had suspected this, but it was both relieving and infuriating to hear it. They didn't speak again until they reached the park. Upon arrival, they sought refuge in the shade of one of the many apple trees, Ahiru silently accepting Fakir's hand when she lowered herself to the ground before he followed suit.

Fakir was the first to speak again. "I heard a rumor," he started, "of a swan."

Ahiru glanced up at him, wide-eyed.

"A large swan. Dancing in the snow with an oak tree that hadn't been there the night before and isn't there any longer."

She looked back down at her hands. Her heart pounded in her ears and tears were welling up in her eyes. Ahiru had been woefully unprepared for this conversation. Someone had seen her with the oak tree? How? She was the only one stupid enough to be out there during the blizzard, right? Though, it didn't start blizzarding until after she got the fragment from the oak tree…

He watched her expectantly, unsure of what else to say. His heart dropped a bit when she reached up and wiped at her eyes. He hadn't intended to make her cry. It was tempting to just let it go, but he couldn't any longer.

"I, uhm… I'm…" Ahiru tried to give some sort of explanation, but just couldn't find the words. The tears began welling up again. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to just say something. "It… it was Drosselmeyer."

Another revelation that gave Fakir mixed emotions. The questions bubbling in his chest rushed forward before he could stop them, "How? Why? Do you know what he's planning? Is it another story? What is he up to?"

Ahiru bit her lip. "I don't… I don't know." To most of his questions, this was the truth. She didn't know. But what she did know? She couldn't tell him. She was willing to come partially clean, but she would not tell him she that she agreed to it. That she agreed to die.

Fakir seemed to accept this. He nodded slowly and then hesitated before asking, "When did you find out?"

Ahiru looked out at the sky. The sun was finally setting, and the sky was lovely hues of orange, pink, and purple. This conversation was never going to be easier, and it wouldn't get easier the longer she waited. She bit her lip before finally admitting, "When it happened."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" His heart lurched, hurt that she had hid something so big from him for so long. He thought maybe she had found out at the Fire Festival—but from the very beginning?!

"Because!" Ahiru exclaimed. "I didn't want you to worry! You get so… so obsessive when it comes to Drosselmeyer! I wanted to take care of it by myself!"

Fakir was quiet a moment before he grasped her hands in his. "I need you to understand that you don't have to do things by yourself. I'm here for you. Please. Let me be here for you."

Ahiru's cheeks colored as she stared into Fakir's eyes. He was looking at her so earnestly, beseeching her to place her trust in him. She felt so awful. Of course she trusted him. It was her who couldn't be trusted.

She tore her eyes from his. "I know you're here for me. I just… I just didn't want to think about it. I wanted to enjoy my time as a girl…" She added, whispering, "…with you."

He stroked her cheek, following the curve of her face down to her jawline before curling around her chin and gently but firmly pulling her face toward him. His face was closer than she had expected, and her color in her cheeks darkened even more.

"I am glad you're human again. I'm thankful for every moment I get to spend with you. I'm worried about you, though. Drosselmeyer is unpredictable."

"I know…" Ahiru bit her lip.

"And the Fire Festival…?"

She swallowed, trying really hard to focus on what he was saying and not on his proximity, or the fact that he mentioned the Fire Festival and how he had held her chin just like this by the bonfire when his lips had been so very, very tantalizingly close to hers. "Y-yeah?"

Mentally reprimanding himself, he resisted the urge to kiss her. Now wasn't the time for this sort of behavior. He couldn't help himself. She looked so cute illuminated in the last rays of the sunset, and so fragile. Noting the deep red in her cheeks, it pleased him to know he had that effect on her. He mentally reprimanded himself again. He's supposed to be asking her what she knew about Drosselmeyer, not losing himself in her allure.

"That was Drosselmeyer then, wasn't it?"

A jolt shot through her heart at the reminder of what else had happened at the Fire Festival, completely destroying the pleasant haze that was clouding her head. She frowned and pulled her chin from his grasp. "So you noticed?"

"You were there and then you weren't," he explained, "it was hard not to."

Ahiru nodded absently. Fakir was no idiot, of course he noticed the sudden change in proximity. And that she immediately ran away and then proceeded to avoid him for a couple weeks. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, trying to figure out how much she could tell him without giving away too much—something she was disgustingly familiar with doing lately.

"Why was he there?"

"If Princess Tutu declares her love to her beloved she'll turn into a speck of light."

"He always talks in riddles. I don't know what he was saying or what he wanted," she lied. What could she tell him, really? The rules of speaking her love were poorly defined, and she didn't know what was safe for her to say. If she told Fakir that Drosselmeyer came to her, right before they were about to kiss and she was about to say something, to tell her that she'd die if she confessed her love, wouldn't she be doing that very thing indirectly? And she certainly couldn't tell him Drosselmeyer only told her not confess because he was feeling unusually charitable and didn't want to cut their one year of life deal short.

"What did he say?"

Ahiru wished the ground would swallow her. What was she supposed to say? There wasn't a thing he told her that evening that she could feasibly tell Fakir. "I don't remember. The usual mumbo-jumbo he's babbling about. Something about tragedies, probably."

Maybe she shouldn't have said tragedies.

"So he is writing another story…" Fakir leaned back against the tree and rubbed at his chin in thought. He glanced back at her "Are you sure you don't remember anything else? What about in the past? What else has he said to you?"

"I-I don't…" she chewed on her lip. She regretted letting this conversation happen, but it wasn't exactly something she could avoid. "I don't know."

"Please try to remember, this is important." Fakir's eyes shot down to the white pendant around her neck. The sun was no longer painting the sky with its vibrant hues, and the gem sparkled in the moonlight. "You never responded."

"What?" Ahiru's brow knit in confusion. "Responded?"

"About the swan. That was you, wasn't it? Princess Tutu is back."

She ran her hand through her bangs, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. Did this conversation really have to hit on so many sensitive topics?

"Autor told me he had a dream about Princess Tutu."

Ahiru remained silent for a few more moments before she could bring herself to speak again. "Yeah. Princess Tutu is back."

Fakir sighed and rested his forehead on his hand. "So you knew about everything, and didn't tell me?"

"I thought I could do it on my own," she whispered.

Fakir wanted to shake her. To tell her he was here to protect her over and over again until she finally understood it. Did she not realize how much it hurt him to know she had been hiding all of this from him? Last time they fought Drosselmeyer, they did it together. Why was she so insistent on doing this all alone?

Before he could speak, she placed a small hand on his bicep. "I know you're here for me. I know you would do anything for me." She hesitantly reached out for his right hand and delicately traced the dark, jagged scar from where he had stabbed himself. "You already have."

He swallowed as he stared at her profile. Reaching across him had brought her face so close to his. He wished his mind would stay on the matter at hand, rather than focusing on her soft touch.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to have to deal with it." She frowned and shook her head slightly. "No, that's not right." She licked her lips as she tried to think of the right wording. Finally, she started again. "I think it's more… I wanted to protect you. I-I just wanted to, you know, have a normal life with you. Start again or something. I didn't want you all tangled up in this Drosselmeyer nonsense."

Fakir couldn't take it anymore and wrapped his arms around her. "Idiot." He scolded her as he pulled her close to him, burying his face in her neck. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around. Don't you understand?" He hated crying at all, and almost hated crying in front of her more. She was the only one he could be so raw with, and yet he didn't want her to see him as weak. He took a shaky breath to try and prevent his burgeoning tears from entering into his voice. "I can't… I can't lose you. I just," his voice broke, causing Ahiru to clutch him tightly, "I just can't."

Whatever will Ahiru had that held her own tears from spilling over completely broke. She pulled him as close as she possibly could, griping his shirt in both of her hands. Her heart broke under the weight of the truth: he would. He would lose her, and it was something she, herself, had set into motion.

"I know I should've written a story for you. I had tried so many times. Every time I started, I would just be paralyzed with fear. I couldn't. I couldn't let what happened to my parents happen to you. Not because of me."

"Fakir…"

"And now that bastard has you in his clutches again! Who knows what he plans on doing to you to achieve his stupid freaking tragedy! All because I couldn't—"

"Fakir." Ahiru pushed his head away from her neck and placed a hand on either side of his face. "I would never blame you for any of this. It's not your fault."

Tears stained his cheeks and clung to his eyelashes, breaking Ahiru's heart. She carefully wiped the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, being careful not to poke him in the eye as she cleared them from his lower eyelids.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," she murmured. Gently, she pulled his head down to her and pressed her lips to his forehead. She lingered for just a moment before pulling back and resting her forehead upon his. "Just don't blame yourself, okay?"

Fakir nodded slightly and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of her presence.

A moment passed before either spoke. "Fakir," Ahiru spoke softly.

"Hm?"

"Look," she urged him quietly.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. She drew away from him and gestured towards the grassy field in front of them.

"Fireflies."

Fakir looked out over the open area, where small flashes of warm, yellow light danced among the blades of grass. "So they are."

She leaned back against his chest and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Silently, they watched the enchanting, methodic flashes of the summer beetles, taking comfort in each other's presence.

Gathering the courage to break the silence, Fakir began, "What's your purpose as Princess Tutu this time?"

Ahiru sighed. She had hoped he would just let the conversation die at that, but of course she wasn't that lucky. "I don't really know. Drosselmeyer called them fragments."

"Fragments? Fragments of what?"

Ahiru shrugged. "I don't know," she repeated.

"Are they like the heart shards? What do you do with them?"

She resisted the urge to bury her face in his shirt and just never respond, after coming this far, it seemed silly to give up. "They're sorta like heart shards, I guess… but not really, at all… I think. And they just… sorta… get absorbed. Into the pendant." She tapped the gem hanging from her neck.

The memory of the pendant shining gray shot through his mind, making him stiffen. "Wait, the fragments get absorbed into the pendant?"

Ahiru sat up and looked over at him. "Yeah…?" Had she said something wrong? Too much, maybe?

"And what happens? Are they humanoid? Are they emotions? Do they just disappear forever?" He gave himself a second before adding, "Does it change colors?"

She blinked in surprise and looked down at the pendant. She didn't like to think about the pendant's apparent tendency to turn gray. "They don't have human forms… at least, I don't think so. They're just… light. Or the absence of light. I'm not sure. And they just go into the pendant. That's all I know."

"Does it change colors?" He repeated.

Ahiru couldn't even fully confront that fact herself, much less to him. She shook her head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Fakir pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite knowing so much more than him, she seemed to hardly know anything.

She threw her hands up. "I don't! Okay? I got myself into this mess, and I don't need to drag you into it, too. So, just, don't worry about it!"

"Wait, what?" Fakir's brow furrowed as he lowered his hand and stared at her.

"Nothing, never mind." Ahiru groaned. She was getting worse at lashing out.

"No. What do you mean you 'got yourself into this'?"

Ahiru's heart stopped. Had she really said that? Her eyes widened in terror, and she began profusely waving her hands in denial. "No, no! I just—I mean—that was just bad wording—I didn't… I-I don't—"

"Ahiru. What did you mean?"

His hard stare bore a hole in her soul, and she slumped in resignation. "He offered me a deal, and I took it."

"You what?!"

"It was just—he said I could be a girl again! And I was just—"

"So, what? He just offers you a chance to become human again and you just accept it?! After everything he's put all of us through? After everything he put you through?"

"He'd said I'd never have to be a duck again! I was miserable, okay?! I didn't want to be a duck anymore! I wanted to be human! I wanted to dance and make friends and speak and spend time with you, alright?! I was done being a duck! So, yes! I accepted his deal!" She shouted, hot tears pouring down her face.

Fakir's heart ached for her. He knew she was miserable and lonely. If only he had been confident enough to write her story—no. He wouldn't be swayed by her tears this time. He was furious with her. Not only had she lied to him and hid all of this from him, she had been a willing party to Drosselmeyer's plot.

"What was his price?"

Ahiru averted her gaze. She couldn't tell him. He'd never forgive her.

"Ahiru," he spoke her name forcefully, "What. Was. His. Price?"

"To be Princess Tutu again and collect these stupid fragments, okay?! He won't tell me what they're for, so don't bother asking me. I don't know!" She was upset enough, she hoped he wouldn't see through her lie.

"Why would you agree to that?! We don't even know what he has you collecting! He could be stealing your soul for all we know! How could you be so stupid!?"

"You think I haven't been beating myself up over this?! I don't need your help with that, alright?! Yeah, it was stupid! I'm a moron! I get it! This is part of the reason I didn't tell you in the first place—I knew you'd react like this! But you know what?! I don't regret it! Nothing will make me regret being human again! You're just mad because you were too much of a coward to write a story for me, so I had to take care of it myself!" As soon as her last words left her mouth, she regretted them. She had meant to hurt him, but seeing the intended hurt clearly displayed across Fakir's face as he glared at her only made her feel worse.

Her shoulders fell, and she closed her eyes, disappointed in herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Sure."

Ahiru shook her head, pleading with him. "I really didn't. Please believe me. I'm just… I'm mad at myself, and I was taking it out on you, and I don't… I already told you. I don't blame you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her words shook as she began crying harder. "You're right. I acted selfishly. I was just so tired of being a duck, and I wanted to be human again, no matter the cost. And I don't regret it, but I regret any pain it's caused you. That I caused you."

With a sigh, Fakir leaned back against the apple tree. "I'm sorry, too. I guess you're somewhat right. I am mad at myself for not writing you back into a girl. I should've never given Drosselmeyer the opportunity."

Disagreeing, Ahiru wiped at her eyes. "That's not your fault, please don't say that. You were being responsible and cautious. There's nothing wrong with that. I got impatient. I just… I guess I thought it couldn't be done any other way. You said we should go back to our true selves, and I just thought… maybe you never were going to write anything after all…"

"I guess… we never really talked about it, did we?"

"We couldn't. I was a duck."

He halfheartedly chuckled, "Yeah. Yeah, you were." He was quiet a moment before he asked, "Is this why you've been going to the library so much? To research Drosselmeyer?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe if I tried researching it more, tried doing what you'd do, maybe I'd figure something out and I would be able to tell you."

"You should've just told me so I could help you. I would've been mad, but I told you: I'd do anything for you."

"Then don't blame yourself again, okay?"

"I'll try."

They sat there without saying another word, staring at the waning moon. An indeterminable amount of time passed as Fakir processed this new information and Ahiru wondered if she had done the right thing telling him as much as she had. Eventually, prompted by a rather loud growl from Ahiru's stomach, the two walked home, hand in hand.


Ahiru sighed dreamily as she leaned her elbows on the wooden table and rested her chin in her hands. After mentioning his back hurting the evening before, Fakir had forced Charon to let him take over for the day. Since it was Charon's day to make dinner, and he had nothing else to do, he decided to make a roast, which would take all day to cook properly. Ahiru had intended to watch him prepare it to improve her roast skills, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.

Charon chuckled as he dried his hands off and sat down across from her. "Someone's on cloud nine."

"Uh-huh." Ahiru agreed despite not having heard what Charon had said.

Grinning, he shook his head. "So are you and Fakir finally together?"

"Uh-huh," Ahiru repeated. A few seconds passed before her brain processed what he had said. She bolted upright. "What? No! Where did you hear that?! We're not—I mean, he's not—I'm not—!"

Charon guffawed at this, slapping his knee in amusement. "I'm just teasing you, kiddo. Don't mind me."

Pressing her hands to her hot cheeks, Ahiru pouted. "I'm sorry, I was a little distracted."

"A little?" Charon gestured to the oven with his head. "The roast is already done and in the oven."

"Aw, really?"

"That's alright, there'll be more roasts in the future."

Ahiru nodded absently. She should've been paying more attention, but she couldn't seem to keep her daydreams at bay. She's been hopelessly lost in memories of warm fingers pressing up on her chin, dark green eyes staring into hers, and all that could've been. Barely suppressing the urge to melt into a puddle of giggles, Ahiru apologized to Charon once more.

"I think I'll take a walk. Hopefully that'll clear my head."

"Be careful," Charon called after her, "it's still awfully hot out there."

"Don't worry," Ahiru dismissed, "if I get too hot, I'll stop somewhere."

Despite the heat, it was a nice day. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and plenty of places were advertising some sort of cool treat. Ahiru walked aimlessly before stopping to buy a bowle inspired popsicle. After walking for a while longer, she found herself on Goldkrone Academy's campus.

'I guess while I'm here I may as well go to the library…' she mused as she finished off her popsicle.

As she drew nearer to the library, her heart sank into her stomach. Memories of the hooded figure following her came flooding back, making her feel uneasy. Maybe she should just forget it and head back. She looked around. Campus was bustling with students, and not a single person in a hood was in sight. With how hot it was, why would anyone wear a hood?

'It'll be fine, I'll just make sure I leave earlier than last time…' She assured herself, trying to quash the growing anxiety brewing in her gut. She couldn't let this one person ruin her ability to go about her life. Besides, despite the understanding they had reached a couple of days ago, Fakir took every chance to bombard her with a myriad of questions she either wasn't ready to answer or simply couldn't. She needed to do more research.

She just wished Fakir were with her.

'If I get too scared, I'll just ask one of the librarians for an escort home… They'd probably be willing to help.' Ahiru nodded resolutely before entering the library and heading back to her often-frequented occult section.


Ahiru groaned as she shut the large tome on demons and devils. How she managed to waste so much time reading about the nachtkrapp was beyond her. She thought maybe with its resemblance to the Raven it might've been useful, and maybe that was why she kept reading even after it was clear it had nothing to do with Drosselmeyer and his powers. Either way she was out two hours and had nothing to show for it.

Grabbing the next book, Ahiru settled further into the chair. It was never anything useful, but she had hope eventually she'd find something. This one was some sort of compendium of magic types or something. With a sigh, she skimmed through the table of contents. Looked like more of the usual from her brief scan. She mindlessly chewed on her lip as she half-read the words she ran her finger over.

Mancy this, mancy that. She stopped at litomancy. She had been researching Drosselmeyer and his powers long enough to know this was a term some used to describe the powers of the spinners. Sighing, she flipped to roundabouts she imagined the section would be in the book—she may as well see what this one had to say about it. With a quick glance at the section title, she knew she had gone to far and started thumbing backwards through the pages.

Ahiru froze when she eyed the title of one of the sections, her fingers suspended mid-page turn.

Sanguinomancy: Blood Magic

She stared at the subtitle with a furrowed brow. Something about it struck some chord in her distant memory, but what was it? Blood Magic… Blood Magic… Blood…

"…the men cut off his hands to stop him from writing. Drosselmeyer ended up dying from the blood loss."

Autor had told her Drosselmeyer had died from blood loss, but…

"That machine?! I wrote that story in blood!"

Ahiru's eyes widened in realization as Drosselmeyer's words from all those months ago popped into her head. "That's right! Drosselmeyer said he—and if it was after the bookmen cut his hands off, then that would've been the only way for him to continue, right?!"

"He had, unfortunately, built his little machine before our ancestors cut his hands off," a raspy voice spoke from in front of her.

"Eh?!" Ahiru squeaked in surprise at the sudden appearance. Looking up, she saw the hooded figure from the other day. "Yo—!" Unfortunately, she was quickly muffled by someone else slamming their hand over her mouth. Her heartrate quickened as she struggled to get away, but their grip was tight.

"We thought his control over the town ended with the destruction of that machine," as he drew closer, Ahiru could see into the shadows created by the hood, and Ahiru recognized him as one of the bookmen who had tried to cut off Fakir's hands, "but, it seems another story is in motion."

Ahiru squirmed violently, trying to wrest her body from the other person's grip. Despite her best efforts to scream, she was barely able to get a sound out. Surely, she thought, it had been enough noise to warrant a librarian to come check on her.

As if sensing her thought process, the bookman shook his head. "Struggling won't do you any good. We do have our own magicks, you see. We can't have you getting away, can we Princess Tutu?"

Finally freeing enough of her jaw, Ahiru clamped her teeth down on the hand over her mouth, earning a masculine yelp of pain. Before she could make use of her recently attained freedom, something hard came down on the back of her head and the world went dark.


"Damn it!" Drosselmeyer cursed as he slammed his hands onto the armrests of his chair. The impact caused his right hand to flop unheeded to the floor. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He scowled and stroked his beard with his still-attached hand. "Oooh, I was afraid of this when I saw them lurking about. What to do… what to do!?"

He stood abruptly and began pacing. She was nowhere near his portal, though maybe if he was lucky, they'd take her there and he could bring her inside the story for her safety like he had last time. Though, they had seen him do it last time, maybe they wouldn't take her there… And if she was their target this time, if they did take her to his grave, he had no guarantee they wouldn't just camp outside the portal, waiting for her return. No, he needed something more imminent.

A flash caught his eye, and he turned toward his viewing gear. The pendant hanging from Ahiru's neck was sparkling. "I should've known they'd have a fragment." He exhaled heavily and dragged his hand down his face.

"Uzura!"

The tinny sound of Uzura's drum quickly grew louder as she scurried over. "Uzura's reporting for duty, zura!" Upon seeing the image of Ahiru being carried by several men, she frowned. "Is Ahiru okay, zura?"

"Now, Uzura. This is very important. You want to help our little duck, right?"

Uzura nodded zealously.

"Good. You need to get the boy, and lead him to her, okay? Will you be able to keep track of them?"

Determination painted across her face, Uzura nodded. "Of course, zura!" Without another word, she raced off, beating a war cry on her drum.

Drosselmeyer watched her depart for a moment before turning back to the gear. A grin ripped across his face as he regarded the descendants of the men who chopped off his hands in an attempt to stop him. "Yet again, you've given me quite the gift."


Fakir dragged his pen listlessly along the paper in front of him. When he got back from the smithy he had been disappointed to find Ahiru wasn't home. Even more so when she wasn't back after he took his shower. He attempted to get some writing done, but he could hardly concentrate. He wanted to ask her more questions about Drosselmeyer—they had to get on top of this. After he crossed out his fifth attempt at trying to write something, he decided to put the rest of the empty space to better use and scrawled aimless squiggles across it.

It was getting a bit late, and last time Ahiru went out by herself she got chased by some miscreant with unknown intent… maybe he should go out and try to find her…

Tip tippa tip!

Fakir frowned. Was that… drumming?

Rapt tappa tat!

It was growing louder. Fakir stood, his brow furrowed. "Uzura…?" He hesitantly called out. Another string of crescendoing drumbeats pealed throughout the room. There was no one there, and a precursory glance out the window showed there wasn't anyone playing the drums outside. "Uzura, is that you?" He tried again. The drumming suddenly stopped and then,

Tap Prurruururur Tap Tap!

"So it is you." Fakir surmised.

The invisible drummer began cacophonously drumming again before the sound began disappearing down the hallway.

"Uzura, wait!" Fakir shouted after her before taking off after the retreating drumbeats.

"Fakir?" Charon called out, baster in hand, as Fakir dashed past the kitchen.

"No time," Fakir responded as he slipped on his shoes and dashed out the door, following the trail of audio breadcrumbs Uzura left for him. He had no idea why she would come back all of a sudden, and in such a manner, but he knew there had to be a reason.

The drumming stopped, and Fakir came to a halt. Just as he was about to call out after her, he saw some cloaked figures in the distance near the graveyard.

'The bookmen?' Fakir's brow furrowed as he stared at the procession. 'Why are they out? Wait, is that…?' He frowned and squinted.

"What the hell?!" He shouted, enraged, as he sprinted toward them. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Laying on a makeshift altar before them was Ahiru. He should've known it was the bookmen following her when she mentioned a hooded figure, but it had been so long since they had approached him. Why had they come out of the shadows now? And what did they want with Ahiru?

"Begone spinner! This does not concern you!" The owner of the Used Book Store, the apparent leader of the bookmen and the one Fakir had dealt with last time, held up his hand.

"Like hell it doesn't! Let her go!" As he drew closer, a few of the figures parted from the group and stood firm to hold him back.

A small moan escaped the supine figure on the altar as Ahiru began stirring.

"We must make this quick," the man insisted, pulling a dagger from his cloak.

"Ahiru!" Fakir fought to release himself from the grasp of the men gripping his arms.

"Fa… kir?" Ahiru murmured before wincing. Her head ached fiercely. "What—" Her voice died in her throat as her eyes came into focus on the glinting knife that was hefted above her.

Shrieking, Ahiru deftly kicked at the man before her, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The remaining three men that weren't holding back Fakir reached out for her limbs, trying to stop her from escaping while their leader gasped for air.

"You'll… regret… that!" he wheezed.

While Fakir managed to free himself from one of the men, two were still stymying him. "Ahiru!" He shouted again, "Ahiru, run!"

She squawked in panic as she writhed on the altar. "Let go!" Somehow her movements were erratic enough the bookmen were having trouble maintaining a hold on her limbs. Squirming away from their hold, she managed to free herself from their grip.

"No!" The man before her rasped as he slashed out at her with the dagger, eliciting a screech of pain from her as he slashed her ankle.

Ignoring the pain, she dashed for Fakir, who managed to rip himself from the hold of the bookmen who were now scrambling after Ahiru. She bobbed and weaved in an attempt to dodge them and was pulled out of the fray by Fakir as they sprinted for the nearby alleyways.

With her free hand, Ahiru tenderly rubbed the spot where her head throbbed. Not far behind them, they could hear the thunderous footfalls of the bookmen chasing after them. Having gotten enough of a head start, Fakir deftly ducked into a dark corner filled with trash. He tucked her behind him protectively, and both tried to quiet their breathing as they listened for the group of men to pass.

The sound of their footsteps grew louder, and Ahiru squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself into Fakir's back and praying the crazed men didn't find them. Finally the footsteps started growing quieter, but neither of them could bring themselves to talk in case there were some stragglers.

She opened her eyes, and at once she knew what she had to do. "Fakir…" she whispered, still shaken.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" He immediately turned towards her at the sound of her voice, but further questions died in his throat.

The shadows of the alleyway were brightened by the soft glow being emitted by the gem hanging from her neck. "What…?"

She swallowed. "I have to help them."

"Are you insane? They tried to kill you!" He hissed.

Closing her eyes, she nodded, mindful of the throbbing pain. "I know."

"No. Forget Drosselmeyer, forget his stupid story and these fragments or whatever—you can't expose yourself to them! They're just going to try to kill you again!"

She placed a hand on his arm. "They know where you live. They know where Charon lives. I don't know why they're doing this, but… but they're not going to stop unless I stop them. I can't let them put you and Charon in danger. Let me do this."

"I don't like this." Fakir knew she was right. It was impossible to hide from them, and even if they left Goldkrone town, they could still go after Charon.

"It'll be okay," Ahiru assured him, though she didn't feel as confident as she sounded. The only time she faced an armed hostile entity in such a capacity was when she freed the Ghost Knight from one of Mytho's shards—but at least he had been angry in general, not specifically trying to kill her, nor had there been more than one of him. She had stood up to the Raven, though, so she could do this. Stepping back a bit, she closed her eyes and let her transformation overtake her.

Fakir watched in amazement as she changed before him. Standing en pointe in the shadows of the alley, Princess Tutu looked the same as she always had. She gave him a reassuring smile before, with a fluid wave of her arms, a great vine blossomed under her and carried her to the rooftops.

His heart stopped as she stood above him, illuminated by the light of the moon.

She was gray.


It didn't take long for Princess Tutu to locate the bookmen as she searched for them from the rooftops. She found them not far from the entrance to the underground passage she once traversed with Fakir. Steeling her nerves, she leapt from the rooftops with a grand jeté.

"So you've decided to show yourself in full form, eh, Princess Tutu?" the leader of the bookmen faced her, pulling his knife back out.

"You harbor feelings you don't understand," she began.

"Don't bother with your spiel," he interrupted her. "Another story is controlling this town, and this time it is your doing."

Princess Tutu frowned. "The people of Goldkrone are under no one's control but their own." Perhaps she knew better than to take Drosselmeyer's word for it, but from what she could tell at least that part had been the truth.

He shook his head and began taking steady steps toward her. "Mayhaps the people are, but you are not."

"What?"

"You've become his puppet, and it's time for us to cut your strings before they ensnare us all."

She swiftly side-stepped him as he lunged at her, dodging him and his knife, as well as the other bookmen that swiped at her with their hands. Burning in her chest, she could feel their tumultuous rage. "The story controlling the town has ended, isn't it time for you to move on?"

"It is an honor passed down from our ancestors to protect this town!"

Gracefully, via piqué tour, Princess Tutu spun between the men, dodging their various attacks and attempts to grasp her.

"Ahiru!" Fakir's voice drew her attention from the group accosting her. Across the way, she could see him sprinting towards them.

Panic briefly seized her body. She couldn't possibly concentrate on resolving their anger if she was worried about him getting hurt. Leaping past them, sissonne, Princess Tutu crossed her arms in front of her, shaking her head. Unlike when she had danced with the Ghost Knight, the night was clear and she had no fog to obscure them with. She would, instead, have to use her own means.

Ignoring the betrayal in his eyes, she summoned the thick, flowery vines she occasionally relied on, engulfing her and her attackers in a solid cage, effectively barring him from getting any closer.

"No!" Fakir shouted as he clawed at the vines in vain. "You can't do this! How am I supposed to protect you?!"

Princess Tutu pushed his objections from her mind, satisfied that he was safe. If all else failed, at least she knew he would be okay.

"You are wise to keep the young spinner out of this, but it will not save you."

Despite his proximity, Princess Tutu sprung past him with all the grace expected of a prima ballerina. "Please, we do not have to fight, Drosselmeyer no longer controls Goldkrone."

"And yet you brought him back!"

"I promise you I am not on his side! I am here to help! We could work together," she implored, spinning, chaîné, past the men grabbing at her. She lost her footing when one pointedly kicked at her injured ankle, smearing her blood across her leg.

"How can you when you are his marionette?!"

A scream ripped through her lips as he took advantage of her temporary impairment and slammed his dagger into her side. The haze of her pain made everything move much too fast and too slowly all at once. Sound seemed to fade from her grasp, and Fakir's increasingly desperate bellowing fell on deaf ears. Somehow, with everything else drained out, she was able to see it. The string that tied them all together. And she could see its weakness.

With shaky hands, she reached out and grasped his face. "It isn't failure to pursue your own lives. It is not your job to carry the oaths of your forefathers; their will has been done. Let me take that burden from you."

"You've spoken your piece." His words were hard, but she could see his resolve was shaken.

The bookmen staggered back as they watched her rise to fifth position, her body shuddering with the effort. Blood spurted from around the dagger, still lodged in her side. Her welcoming features belied the undoubtedly excruciating pain she was in. As she rose en pointe, the only indication of her injury was a slight tightening of her eyelids and the deliberation in her movements.

"You have seen their goals to fruition. The story your ancestors sought to bring an end to has ended, and you have done them proud. I can see how the burden of their mantle has weighed upon your souls. It's okay to let go."

A number of the bookmen stopped in their tracks, staring mournfully at Princess Tutu. A few of them voiced their agreement. Being a bookman had been thrust upon them since childhood. Though they might have taken pride in the work, many of them had to sacrifice their happiness for the sake of the role. Drosselmeyer's control of the town had been destroyed, and they no longer were compelled by the story's magic to stay within the walls. Some of them desired to move on with their lives but were now obligated to stay for the title they had forced upon them.

"You fools!" The owner of the Used Book Store seethed at the others. "If we don't put an end to this, who will?!" Though her words had affected him as well, he steeled himself. He had a duty. Lunging forward, he ripped the dagger from her side, earning another cry of pain as blood gushed from her now open wound and she crumpled to the ground in pain.

Letting herself rest for only a moment, she was soon pushing herself back up from the ground, her body unsteady from the strain. "You've entrusted Goldkrone's fate in Fakir's hands before. We were the ones who defeated Drosselmeyer. Let us take over from here." The effort was showing on her face now as she struggled to hold herself up, let alone execute any turns, jumps, or spins. Her knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the ground again.

"Stop!" He cried out in horror as she yet again fought to push herself back up.

"You'll kill yourself if you keep this up!" The voice of another of the bookmen called out.

She gave them a small smile, though tinged with pain, she shakily reached out for the leader again. "You are not murderers. I can see your love for this town, but your ancestors have asked too much of you—asked you to go against your nature. It's okay to say no."

"She's just a kid," one of the other bookmen beseeched their leader.

"You've all lived with this pain long enough," she grimaced as her ankles faltered in her movements, "please, trust us with this duty."

"But this is all we've ever known."

"It's okay to move on." She assured them weakly. "You've done enough. It is not a betrayal to live for yourselves."

"I…" the bookmen quietly looked amongst themselves as they contemplated her words. A few fell to the ground as their fragments left their bodies and entered Princess Tutu's pendant, causing her to lose her balance again.

The leader closed his eyes and solemnly nodded. He was an old man now, and he was tired of fighting a battle he had not started. "Very well, Princess Tutu. We entrust the fate of Goldkrone town to you again." With this, black lights shot from the bodies of the few remaining bookmen, and soon all seven were crumpled to the ground.

Her tenuous grasp on her transformation and the vines shielding Fakir from the fight faded almost immediately as she collapsed to the ground with them.

"Ahiru!" Fakir's voice was raw from screaming at her from the other side of the vines, his fingers bloodied from scratching at her barrier.

His heart stopped at the sight of the blood smeared across her torso and the fast-growing red stain on her pink shorts.

"No, no, no," he stumbled over himself as he rushed to her side, ignoring the shooting pain as he fell to his knees on the cobblestone. "Ahiru!"

"Fakir?" She looked up at him weakly as he pressed his hands to her wound in an attempt to slow the blood flow.

"I can't… I-I can't—!" He vaguely considered shouting for help, but if no one had come with all the noise he had made earlier, there was clearly something blocking others from sensing them.

"It'll be alright." She feebly placed one of her hands upon his.

"I have to get you to the doctor!" His hands were slick with blood as he carefully hefted her off of the ground. "Just… just hang in there, okay!" Fakir could hardly hear his own thoughts as he sprinted down the road, mindful not to jostle her as he skidded around corners. All he knew was he couldn't lose her.

He couldn't lose Ahiru.


A/N: Finally finished this chapter! As I mentioned in the last chapter, I went back to the previous chapters and edited in seasonal details. I also ended up rewriting the first four chapters pretty heavily. The story still hasn't changed, though, so don't worry if you don't feel like rereading them. The major changes were seasons (the story starts right before the beginning of winter, if you're curious), the addition of the horse, Lohengrin, the spelling of Mytho being corrected throughout the story, and changing from Kinkan Town to Goldkrone Town. The final change was something I had been debating about for some time and decided spur of the moment to implement while rewriting the first chapter. Since I decided to lean on German culture for the story, I decided it was time to use a German name for the town. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading! I appreciate it!