Twin hospital doors burst open. "Make way, make way, patient coming through, emergency, oohhh!" It didn't entirely seem logical that there were three nurses with extremely skimpy nurse uniforms around the cart and no doctors and one of them was carrying a megaphone and shouting at anyone that got in the way through it and it was strangely hard to focus on their -faces-. And then there was the patient on the cart, wearing a strange outfit with a sword jutting out of her chest hilt first and the pinkest hair you ever saw... Leaving several cases of tinnitus and at least two nosebleeds in their wake, the nurses and their cart raced rapidly down the sterile white hallway, skidded and almost turned over, and screeched through the doors of an operating room. Machines beeped. Bright surgical lights flashed on and off, came on and stayed on. "We haven't got much time, make this good!" One of the nurses commanded, tossing aside the megaphone and pulling on a surgical mask and gloves. She gestured imperiously to the others. "You! Outfit! You! Nails. I'll take the hair... we're gonna lose her!" Wielding their instruments, the three fell on the patient like a pack of wolves, light gleaming from the edges of combs and sewing needles and nail polish brushes and power drills and chainsaws and the edges of their mad grins... Shoujo Kakumei Utena Alternity 5: Dead Man's Party * Utena's kiss. Himemiya Anshi moved her thumb over her lips. Like being kissed by a ghost, that's what it'd felt like. That's what it -was-, she reminded herself bitterly. A ghost kiss from a dream Prince as soft and sweet as a rose petal made of hollow light. Anshi was sobbing, her hands clenched over her knees on the floor. The tears continued to roll down her dark face even after her heart shut down, even after she thought she didn't have the strength to cry any more, and each fresh new tear was a stunning surprise. She hadn't cried, not once since the day she'd set out shining and new from Ootori to enter the world. Oh, she'd felt sadness and pity and regret and all of those feelings.. but she'd never come to tears. She'd been so full of happiness and hope for her new life. Not in ten years had she cried. All it'd taken to break her was one day with Utena, one fleeting cruel kiss. Does this mean I failed? Himemiya wondered. Was I really -living- those years, or did I just sleepwalk through them in a different way? She'd put on the world like a crisp new dress and then.. at some point... had simply taken it off, laid it aside in a box and never touched it again. Retreated to her house on the sea all alone with her painting and her Chu-chu and her antique radio that didn't work, pretending she was a singularity. No wonder Utena had been able to come to her; no wonder she'd been able to touch her, smell her, feel her. It wasn't that Utena was any more real than she'd ever been. It was that Anshi'd been fooling herself. Anshi brushed her hand over her cheek, and gazed at the tears clinging like jewels to her fingertips, (and he looked up to the ceiling slumped on the floor as the elevator fell fell fell and he held up the teardrop to the light and smiled proudly, look Mamiya, look, she hurt me, isn't it beautiful...) and all at once she was on her feet, the Prince's kiss burning like acid on her lips. She shoved herself over the floor and stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the churning grey sea below. She laughed to herself, tears still flowing down her cheeks as she suddenly saw herself, as if she were a stranger looking on her own body. What a cliche she looked. A figure in a soft dress on a balcony, long violet hair swirling around her neck and shoulders, like an epic romantic painting, like a Princess in her lonely tower over the sea waiting for the Prince to return. No, this wouldn't do at all. She climbed onto the wooden railing that lined the deck to keep people from falling. There were sharp hard rocks below, and the sea washed against them. The air battered at her dress, trying to grab her up and take her away with it. Her toes flexed, dangling just over the edge, and as she looked down, for the briefest moment she saw the sea and stones give way, and the familiar scent of roses was in the air as nighttime traffic flowed through the city streets... Wait for me, Utena. Himemiya Anshi closed her eyes. *CRUNCH* Chu-chu bit loudly through his cracker and toddled over to the edge of the deck. He glanced down where his mistress had gone. "Chuu." Himemiya lay still, twisted, her head tilted back over a rock-plane, and her brown arms were bent unnaturally amidst a red smear. The sea washed in, rolled over her body, and when the tide withdrew, there was nothing but a pile of broken sticks bound in a vaguely human shape, a witch-doll wearing a faded lavender gown. Chu-chu sat back on his haunches and reached behind himself, pulling on a tiny headset microphone. He spoke into it eagerly. "Chu, chu!" "Thank you-chu!" came the tinny response from the earpiece. * The nurses stood around admiring their handiwork. Utena, breathing raggedly, rested on the operating table. Her hair had been curled and elongated, relaxed loose waves that bunched in soft locks around her hed and shoulders. Her nails had been shaped, filed, and layered with clear gloss until they shone; subtle makeups sculpted and smoothed her face and accented her strong cheekbones. She had been redressed in a new jacket and shorts, white with black running down the center, new red socks and black and white spat-sneakers. Blood slowly soaked into her new jacket from the sword still portruding through the center of her breast. "'All changed, changed utterly, a terrible beauty is born.'" A quoted. "That's Keats, isn't it?" B asked. "Yeats, actually." A answered. "...Shouldn't we do something about that stab wound?" C wondered. ".... Builds character. Iron in the diet is good for you." A decided firmly. "And we had to replace the old one anyway, didn't we?" B chimed in. "Hey, hey! Let's switch her on again and see if she works." C chirped. ".... Uhm, how?" A and B asked together. "Isn't a kiss the usual way in matters like this, chuuu?" C pursed her lips. "Or was it that you have to have a key?" B tapped her chin. "I can't remember now...!" A tore her hair. "Guess we have to wait for the others..." B sighed. "Don't forget, 'They' might try something." C noted. "Ooh, I forgot all about 'them'." A nodded. "Let's be all brave and heroic!" They drew their plastic ray guns and bubble wands and circled the operating table, watching the doors. Just in case 'they' got in... * Streamers of colored paper rained down from platforms above his head and Touga absently flicked one aside as its tail end brushed against his left golden epaulet. The air was warm and moist, like freshly watered earth, full of dance- sweat and wood mist; summery air, effused with the still-lingering scent of ash. There was a party going on all around him, a masquerade ball and May dance, something to cheer the surviving students returning to the campus after the terrible fire had forced a temporary closure three months prior. Now, with Ootori rebuilt, the school year was resuming and students were coming back to campus in increasing numbers. It was meant to be a cheerful, festive occasion; taiko drummers had come in, there was so much food it was all but breaking the banquet tables. It was meant as a celebration of Ootori's resilience and survival. Touga felt it more like a wake; like he was walking on his own grave. His eyes continually wandered to the east, toward the Tower, square and linear now, a monolith that dominated sky and earth alike. The original dome of the Planetarium had been grafted on midway up, a broken adjunct bleeding red at its severed ends. He remembered what it had been, what it SHOULD have been. Behind it, the ruins of the duel forest lay scattered and torn; a few slashed and battered tree trunks still poking up, broken columns amidst the sea of concrete that had been rolled out over their remains. They had made it into a parking lot. The Jaguar was parked there, the only car in the lot. Touga's stomach twisted at the sight of it. And once more, lost among the drums and the noise and the whirling dervish students, he stared toward the Tower blindly. A pretty young harlequin slithered out of the dancers toward him, her eyes flashing behind her red and white mask. She danced a slow circle around the Seitokaichou and hold out her gloved hand to him, thrusting her hip his way; all but demanding, not requesting, that he favor her with a dance. Touga threw his head back, an arrogant prideful toss of his long red man. Silent, unspoken reply from flashing blue eyes: Why should I? What do I get for it? The hungry gleam in her eyes and the slight parting of her so-shiny red lips seemed all the answer she intended to give, the only answer that mattered; their eyes locked as she draped her hand formally over his shoulder, slim arm tight and tautly poised. Touga slipped his arms around her tightly corseted waist, grateful for the distraction from his grim mood. He wasn't paying enough attention to notice the coquette's dark, dusky skin, or the way her green eyes were so piercing and cunning behind her feathery mask. He assumed the lead, as he always did, without so much as a second thought, and the two whirled into the middle of the crowd of dancers. It was nothing but movement for a time; fluid melting and grace. She seemed to know his moves a moment before he made them, which made her an ideal dancing companion. After a time she finally lifted her head and spoke, as she pressed herself tightly against his black-clad chest. She stared at his throat, the adam's apple visible through the slight part in his stiff collar. When she spoke her voice was so low as to be nearly inaudible, a whisper against his skin. And yet he heard her clearly, more clearly than any of the giggling conversations taking place around them. "Do you remember me?" she asked him then. Touga smiled, amused. "Should I?" There'd been so many girls with soft skin like this and wet, greedy eyes and smooth backs. He dipped his partner low over one arm, and gazed into her humid emerald eyes. Then, all at once he faltered and froze, leaning low over her, stammering. Her eyes frightened him, old and vast and dark, like the feeling of the arena forest. He remembered those eyes and the swirl of wind on his face, the floorboards rumbling under his feet and the gate of night opening before him... When he opened his mouth, words he hadn't intended to say came spilling out in a voice that wasn't his; in his ears he heard himself sounding like a frightened little boy. "I keep having a dream..." he whispered, "I was making love to a beautiful girl in my bed. I stroked my hand over her hair, and it came away in my hand. There was pink underneath. Her eyes were closed. She said I could have her if I could open her eyes..." Bent and bowed underneath Touga, feeling his chest swaying with his breath against hers, the coquette smiled. She shifted her hand to the fold of his right elbow, the other stretching over his left shoulder. Her head craned up, her mouth resting under his eye. "Did you open her eyes?" she breathed. Touga frowned. "No." he shook his head. "No. I tried everything I could think of to do it, but I couldn't. Someone else did." He seemed to come back into focus and his eyes hardened. With a quick brush of his palm he shoved away the mask that the coquette wore, wiping it off her brow. Her hair seemed to come down with it, falling from hidden pins into a cascading wave of violet curls that flowed to the floor and caught pieces of confetti in its ends. Stricken, Touga stared at her, his tongue swelling up in his mouth fit to choke him. "Bara no... Hanayome." he gasped. There was no golden crown in her hair, no gilded sword in her breast, but he knew her now. He brought her up with careful reverence; she settled back in tightly against his body, pressing her cheek to his chest. They resumed their dance, softer with slower steps, and both were watching for danger. "Is Utena here?" he asked finally, his hand pressed against Anshi's back as if he feared she would slip away and his hopes and dreams would be lost. "She never left." Anshi replied grimly. To Touga's confused look, she shook her head. She was leading the dance now, and she pulled him toward the shadows out of sight of the crowds. They stopped there, just out of sight, just inside the lip of a small alleyway corridor between two of the ground-level structures. Further up the little alleyway they could hear breathy giggles and they both stiffened and froze. After a moment, it became clear the sounds had very little to do with their presence. Himemiya turned to Touga. "We need to find Utena, then gather the others." Touga nodded, answered clear and unwavering. "Yes. This way. I'll tell you everything I know while we're on the way." They turned and together bolted quickly, deeper into the shadows. They were not unobserved. The couple in the shadows slowly turned and looked after them, and one lifted a cell phone to her head, speaking into it. * A hand floated in darkness. Not severed, yet, from the root to which it belonged, the hand was chocolate brown, fingers dangling in limp half-curls, and its wrist was enveloped by thick old rose vines, so dark as to be almost black. Thick metallic thorns were driven through the skin of the wrist; there was blood, slipping down the length of the vines, a soft 'plip' here and there on the floor below. It was not a solitary hand, nor was its condition unique to itself, but of the body to which the hand belonged nothing could be seen; it was swallowed in infinite undefined darkness. "I see. Thank you." spoke Utena's voice from that darkness. "You and your girls get after them." A momentary pause. "I believe you'll find them in the fourth circle, in the school nurse's area. See to it." A soft click as the phone was closed, a rustle of fabric as it was returned to a pocket. The sharp crack of fist against bone. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. I know. WE know. We wanted her here. I've been waiting a long time to meet mother in person..."