Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ Memory of the Rose ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter Three

"Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive."

Robert M. Prisig 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance'

January 30th.

Anshi wrote the date with a steady hand, but rather than continuing her entry, looked out the window and laid her journal down on the table top with a frown. A sound drew her attention from the task at hand and to the drafty window by her narrow and uncomfortable mattress.

The alley down below the flop motel was dark and filthy. A homeless man curled beside a dumpster moaned out loud as dismembered bodies crawled after him in a nightmarish dreamscape of peacetime warfare. She could feel his pain from here, but could do nothing more about it. The swords of the world were no longer hers to haul around, even if in her heart of hearts she sometimes wished it if only to cure one old man of his endless duty to his god and country.

Turning away from the window with a sigh of soft regret, Anshi looked over her new domain with a sense of pity and disgust. Oh, with her powers, latent and lax though they may be now, she could have had the Presidential Suite at the Hilton. But instead she chose this run down flea-bag motel because it was near _her_.

Utena's child.

Moments later, she crossed the room and riffled through her well-worn knapsack to discover what was kept carefully hidden under bottles of expensive exotic perfume and threadbare underwear. She sometimes needed the comfort of that one single item like a drug. When her searching fingers found it, with reverence they carefully brought the thin page forth and held it up to the dim and winking motel bedside lamp.

Anshi held the tattered letter in her dark-skinned hands and shivered.

Another year.

It had seemed simple enough at first. Ten years.

Ten years she would have to search, and if in that time she could not locate her friend, she would return to her brother's dominion for one last cup of tea. One last meeting of minds one last one last

But nothing. And so, after ten years of searching, turning up only the bare remnants of clues, Anshi had returned. For what, really? She had braved Ohtori all those months ago to find this very letter set neatly on an empty plate in the middle of a table set for afternoon tea.

It hadn't taken much to walk onto the campus. Just an intense force of will she never would have credited herself with. The architecture had greatly changed; it was now all angles and hard edges. Nothing hurt more than to see her precious rose garden; now torn apart, altered. She had loved those damn plants with all the power of her shattered heart; only she could coax such extraordinary colors from common household blooms. It was, in a way, her only true talent beside trickery.

Her brother…

Oh, Akio

Anshi watched him from afar, her prince of old, and inwardly wept for her poor, pathetic Akio. He had changed; it was obvious even from a distance. He never even sensed her proximity, merely moved about the campus attending to business as usual. But his eye…

His eyes…

They were the eyes of someone who had given up hope. Not someone filled with greed, not someone who desired eternity to use it for his own ends. No. Rather, all that lay in his unbreakable teal gaze was the sad and wistful dreams of someone who wished his eternity of endless days and nights to end. One who would do it himself if only he held to power to end it all. But for all his illusions and mind-games, for all his little seductions and power plays, there was one thing he couldn't do- end it. It was a bittersweet irony, really; until the very end neither she nor Akio had ever been granted the one thing all their duelists and pawns had from day one- free will.

In a way, she supposed, that was why those special few had been chosen. Those of indominatable will, but bendable morals, moldable ethics. Anyone can be convinced of a crime if only they believe they are doing it for the right reasons. An exaggeration here, a stretching of facts there; manipulation at its most horrifying and scarring best.

Nearly a decade of solitary agony later, Anshi watched her partner in manipulation and very nearly wept. Oh, her fallen prince. It had taken the sacrifice of all his illusions and the heart of the only prince remaining to save him and what was left?

A shell.

A shell of what he once could have been; a proud and strong man.

Straightening, Anshi had dared to walk past her brother on the way to the observatory.

He hadn't even noticed her.

But in a way, his change was a good thing to see up close. The little differences, those small and very telling details that spoke worlds of diversity in who he was and who he had become stood in stark relief on his face. Akio had the beginnings of wrinkles. Not just frown lines, but small laugh lines curling in the corners of his mouth. His dark skin seemed a little less perfect; Anshi was almost shocked into stopping him when she saw a small streak of gray above his right temple.

Yet, this all thrilled her. Her own face had begun to show such lines, her body such minor changes. In Utena's abandonment, and even in her own, they had done for Akio (and herself) what no one else dared. They had nudged the lip of the coffin lid open just enough to let in a bit of murky sunlight. When she'd left him, he'd been ignoring the wonderful gift given to him; he'd been preparing to begin all the old games and manipulations once more, thus diving headfirst into the satin of the grave and remaining locked away forever. But at some time between then and now, he'd realized the wondrous gift Utena had bestowed upon them both, though neither of them deserved it. He'd realized the wonderful gift and mourned the loss of the giver. Some time in the ten years that had passed Akio had grown up. It wasn't very obvious, barely noticeable really when one got down to it. But the expression on his face, it wasn't the old haughty arrogance he used to wear. It was the world-weary face of a twenty-six year old Dios.

Holding her letter close, Anshi whispered the words. She needn't have pulled the yellowed thing out; she'd read it so many times as to have it committed to memory, yet it was comforting to hold. There, written in Utena's bold and flowing script were the only real clues to the mystery. At least until the arrival of a fresh October wind and a small young dancer with eyes as blue as the mid-summer sky.

Anshi-

I remembered our meeting. Things in my life are strange right now and I don't know that I can do this see you I mean. So I ask you for one thing, call it a last favor to an old friend. Please wait one year and meet me back here on this date. I will bring the tea, so you won't poison it, and you can bring the cookies so you can be sure I won't touch them. Just give me time. I will be here one year from now. I promise.

Until then,

Utena

Anshi felt her lips tremble as she mouthed the words. One year. Now less than that. And with any luck, she would have Sari, Utena's own daughter, with her on the next visit. Now all she had to do to make her dream real was to make a call to one very influential friend in London. "Someday," she murmured as she set the letter aside and began her journal entry, "we'll shine together."

"Mail call!"

Adam glanced up at the pimply-faced kid at his door and withheld a groan with effort. Jacob Aster was such a pain in the butt. He had nothing better to do most afternoons than wait for the mailman to arrive and then go tell all the kids that the mail was there despite the fact that most days it was nothing more than junk mail and credit card applications addressed to resident'. Squelching the uncharitable feelings towards his classmate, Adam forced a grin and waved. "Thanks, Jake. Be right down."

Not like he'd get anything.

Jake shrugged and continued his rounds. His voice echoed up and down the halls until he was satisfied that every single one of them, even the ones who never ever received mail, knew that it was there.

From upstairs, Sari heard the call and sighed. Her report card was due in today or tomorrow and she wasn't too pleased at the prospect. Her final for math had been murderous, even for an advanced class, and she was terrified she would make a bad grade. In some ways her dancing was a curse. Sure it kept her fit, happy, and sane…it also kept her from studying. How in the hell was she supposed to finagle her way into one of those pricey private dance academies without a sponsor or scholarships? She had to keep her grades in tiptop shape for at least another year if she ever sported a chance at moving beyond where she was currently stagnating.

t was with no small amount of trepidation that she trotted down the stairs and retrieved a square manila envelope from the top of the stack. "Great," she muttered to herself, "did they have to make it so official looking?"

Trudging back up the stairs to her room, Sari took pains to neatly open her envelope alone the top flap. It came open with surprising ease; she didn't even have to pry at it with her nails. As she reached her room a small piece of paper fluttered out of the envelope to drift towards her feet. She blinked a moment in surprise they weren't in the habit of stuffing the report card envelopes- then she bent down to pick it up.

Adam sat back in his chair and popped his back. It had taken forever, but he'd finally gotten his Chemistry homework finished. Blinking, he looked at the clock. Seven already? Sari should have been up here long before now, he thought absently. She must have taken a nap or something.

With the ease of a practiced athlete, Adam swung the trunk of his body to his

left, using his legs as a pinion, and landed in a half-crouch beside his chair.

From across the room his roommate Sam glanced over the edge of his 'Penthouse' and dryly stated, "That move I give a six, Adam. You could have done it with so much more flair."

"Thanks ever so much," Adam sarcastically retorted as he stretched a bit more and popped his knuckles. "I'm going up to hang with Sari. If anyone calls or stops by, send them up, okay?"

Sam snickered. "What, think Miss I'm-So-High-and-Mighty Sullivan is going to be paying you a visit?"

Adam's face darkened. "Shut up, man. Just do it, okay?"

With an absent shrug, Sam went back to his articles and Adam stepped into the hall with no small feeling of annoyance. Why did Sam have to be such a jerk anyway?

So what if Adam had a little crush on Alicia Sullivan? His little flirtation wouldn't hurt anyone except for Sari; as it was Adam had done a marvelous job thus far of keeping her from finding out. He never wanted to see his little one cry, but if she ever knew about the leggy blond sophomore she would probably do a little more than cry. There was a ruthless streak in Sari a mile wide when she was crossed wrong -though she hid it well- and it sometimes unnerved the older boy how self-sufficient she could be for someone so damn young. "Wonder where she gets it from," he murmured aloud, unaware that he was muttering to himself as he took the stairs up to the fifth floor by twos.

Instead of finding Sari curled up on the bed- she usually slept with her arm

wrappedaround a large stuffed monkey he'd gotten her when she was eight- what met his eyes was a completely unexpected sight.

A suitcase.

An almost completely packed suitcase.

"What the ?" he began as he stepped into the room. "Sari, what's going on? Getinvited to a sleepover or something?"

Please, his heart cried in spite of his easy tone, please just let it be something assimple as a sleepover. Don't let it be anything more; don't think about Anshi-san and her deep green eyes. Don't just please no

"Isn't it great?!" squealed the young girl as she whirled to face him, her bright blueeyes alight with joy. "I never would have thought in a million, zillion, billion years !" With four large strides, she was in his arms, her little girl's arms wrapping about his waist and tightening for all they were worth. "It's so fabulous, Adam!"

Worry enveloping him now, Adam took a step back and took stock of the situation.

Sari's half of the room was a total disaster area; a far cry from the normal anal-retentive attitude the young dancer normally took concerning her prized possessions. Her shelves were bare, but he could still see the smudges of dust and dirt in the outline of stacked books on the upper shelves where she kept her lesser-read novels. It was fairly obvious from the stack of cardboard boxes beside the bed she had hurriedly taken them down and packed them away.

Her closet also stood open and empty of all contents; the left door was swinging slightly on its crooked hinge, making a quiet creak with each motion. Sari had been forever complaining about that creak, threatening to take the doors off the hinges if no one came to fix it; now the last thing on her mind was that crooked door as she fluttered about the room, wrapping small knick-knacks in yellowing newspaper most certainly pilfered from the cellar below. Watching her hands work with a speed and precision he hadn't believed possible, Adam felt his knees go weak. He settled himself down on her roommate's bed and watched her take up the paper with a calm fascination bordering on a catatonic stupor. She laid each figurine in the corner of the classifieds with a finicky precision that spoke of years of rigorous training in both school and home life. That done, one deft motion rolled each porcelain figure diagonally down the paper; three rapid twists and two pieces of scotch tape later it was carefully wrapped and settled in the box on her bed, lickety-split.

Adam opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again. Tried once more for good measure but all he could get out was a single croak. Sari paid no attention to his vocal failings, however. She was still moving around the room with the speed of a flighty hummingbird, carefully and expertly wrapping all things that could be considered fragile with a nimble hand, moving swiftly to the next project as if her task had to be finished that night.

Turns out, it did.

"Let me get this straight," Adam murmured an hour later looking at the empty remnants of Sari's bedroom. Her rapid explanation over cold leftovers from dinner left much to be desired, and even as she wolfed down the last bites of her runny macaroni, he could see she was already itching to return to packing. "You got this invitation in the mail _today_ and you're prepared to leave tomorrow?"

"I have to," she said simply, nervously fingering the card in her hands. "It said I had to be packed and ready by tomorrow morning when the car came."

Hurt washed over Adam's face. "Weren't you going to tell me any of this?! Or were you just going to waltz out of here first thing and send me a postcard when you got to London?"

Sari sat back, confusion and embarrassment tattooed all over her face. "Adam," she soothed, "I never meant make you mad. I just really needed to get this done tonight and I didn't even know if you were home from work yet." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, as he watched one trembled on the brink of her eye and slowly slipped its way down her cheek, traveling the line of her jaw to hang like a jewel from the bottom of her chin. Subconsciously, he reached forward and brushed it away, the cool feel of it on his warm skin an unwelcome relief.

"Look, Sari," he grumbled, "I'm not mad at you. Getting invited to attend such a privileged academy is an honor. But why do you have to leave tomorrow? Don't you at least have to call and tell them you're going to accept their invitation?"

She shrugged. "The letter said to call only if I wasn't going to accept. Besides, the letter was dated just after Thanksgiving, Adam! That's been months!"

He sighed. She had a point. But still "Well, how did this big-wig academy find out about you anyway, huh?"

Practically jumping out of her seat, Sari clapped her hands. "Oh, Adam, you're not going to believe this, never in a million years!"

"Try me," he muttered dryly. He knew he should be thrilled for Sari, but something about this whole situation just didn't quite sit right with him. It was all too convenient for one thing. It came too closely on the heels of his conversation with Anshi-san and Sari's unexpected performance. Yes, they hadn't heard from the exotic woman for almost a month, but that didn't mean she hadn't been sitting somewhere off in the wings, waiting for her chance to help' Sari out. In the time away from her, Adam had grown to distrust the exotic woman despite his original feelings towards her. Something about her, some intangible thing, screamed at him. She wasn't like other people; her old, green eyes had seen much too much and it showed. It was like she wasn't even a real woman; rather some strange and powerful force used to direct daily events from the sidelines. The idea of her gave him the creeps.

"Well," Sari drawled, her cheeks flushed, "turns out not all my relatives are dead after all! Isn't that fabulous?!"

There wasn't a sound in the room for three shocked seconds. Then a splintery crash sounded as Adam's glass plummeted from nerveless fingers to shatter on the hardwood floor. Neither of them said a word, just looked on as the deep red punch soaked into a pair of socks nearby, staining them a dark scarlet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll have to buy you another pair."

"Don't bother," she murmured, her head hanging down and her fingers clenching and unclenching on her thigh. Her grip was so tight she was going to leave a bruise if she wasn't careful, he absently noted. Without his permission, his hand stole out of its own violation and captured her offending hands in his own.

"Who?" he asked simply.

Sari cleared her throat. "My mother had an aunt who lives in Germany. Turns out my mom was an orphan too. Crazy, huh?"

"Crazy," he agreed.

Sari's voice was too high-pitched, he noted. She was shaking with repressed emotion; joy, exuberance, the thrill of unexpected good fortune. Her left foot tapped an unconscious staccato against the wooden floor; the two of them were too busy to note the fact she was dipping her toes into the red liquid over and over again, leaving fresh impressions of her foot on the floor like a bloody footprint.

"So this great-aunt," he pressed.

"Right," she said, her voice still a shade too high, "she found out about me because of the dance recital. Apparently one of my instructors knew her and sent her an invitation. She wasn't there, but "

"But…"

Sari's hair hung in a soft curtain around her face, obscuring her features. "But she recognized my picture and my last name. Apparently my mother told her about me before she disappeared and left Japan. My great-aunt never heard from her again, though she wanted to help with me and well my mom died. So you can imagine how stunning it must be to look at a flier with a cast shot tucked inside and see the face of your dead niece in the leading role. Apparently I look a lot like my mom."

Adam snorted. "How convenient," he drawled, unable to keep the cynical sarcasm from his tone. "So this affects you moving to London how?"

"She contacted Ohtori Academy in Japan where my mother went to school when she met my dad."

"And…" he prompted.

"And they have this London program. I mean, it'll be a few months before I can meet her, but until then I can attend this school in London for free and dance all I want!" Sari's eyes were pleading with him, he could swear. Please Adam, they seemed to say, please don't ruin my dream for me.

He coughed a bit. "I thought well "

"She might adopt me," Sari broke in, belligerently. "Isn't that nice Adam? It's what you always want for all of us, right? But you don't want me to go."

Adam's head snapped up. His angry eyes met Sari's furious blue gaze. "I never said that!"

"Well you're sure as hell acting like it," she cried, her face two shades paler than usual. She was crying in earnest at this point, a fact that did nothing to help Adam's plight, but he couldn't help it. Everything in him was screaming at the idea of her leaving him like this. "Please, please, can't you let me have this one thing, Adam? I'll write, I'll call, I'll visit! But I have family, and that family wants me to dance and "

"And you're afraid if you don't go, you'll never get a chance like this again," he supplied with a tremor in his voice. He couldn't help the next cutting words as they leapt off his tongue. "You're frightened this will all be a hoax and a mistake and-"

"Shut up!" she cried. "Just shut up! Why do you want to say a thing like that, huh?"

"It's true isn't it?"

"Get out, Adam!" Her hands scrabbled at the necklace hanging around her neck.

"Just get out! And take this thing with you!" Her angry words hung in the air like a subtitle, and he looked at her dangling birthday gift with such obvious hurt she couldn't help the cry of pain that sprung to her lips. She and Adam had never, ever fought until today. Never!

"Adam," she whispered, her hand dropping and the golden locket clattering to the floor with a soft rattle, "oh, Adam I "

"Never mind," he cut her off, jumping up and turning to the door with a flourish. "Get to your damn packing, kid." He spat the endearment out. "Have a great time."

"Adam" she cried, jumping off the bed. "Wai- ouch!"

At her cry of pain, Adam whirled about and dropped to his knees beside the weeping girl. With her sheets in such a tangled mess, Sari had fallen as she struggled to get off the bed, and consequently, had stepped right on the broken glass. Ugly shards of glittering mug peeped from between all ten of her toes. Both her right and left foot were bloody messes. "My feet," she whispered, looking on in horror. They were her greatest assets, her only way to get out of the gutter, and here they were all cut up. "Oh, Adam, my feet." She was pale; the sight of her own blood horrified her.

"It's okay," he soothed. "We'll get this glass out and some antiseptic on. You'll be fine in no time. Hang on, kid." Scooping her up into his arm, Adam nearly fell himself when something crunched under his boot. "What the ?"

Sari moaned again. "Oh no, Adam! My necklace!"

"Shit," he cursed, looking at the crushed golden shards at his feet. "Sari hon, let's worry about your feet first, then we'll check out how bad off it is, okay?"

She nodded mutely, and he apologized for all the things he said as he carried her down the stairs to the head nun. She just laid her pale tear-streaked face against his neck and tried not to cry too hard as the pain in her feet burned its way up her ankles. One look at Sari's feet had Sister Mary Francis almost in a faint herself, but the Mother Superior was quickly found and soon Sari was bandaged up.

"I have your necklace," muttered Adam some several hours later. It was near midnight, and the two of them normally would have been kicked out of the recreational room at ten, but considering the night they'd all had, (and Adam's older brotherly affection for the young girl) the nuns had deemed it wiser to simply let them have their last night together in peace. An official-sounding woman had called at eight-thirty and made all the arrangements for Sari Himemiya to be picked up first thing in the morning. Thus, with Sari removed from their flock so suddenly, the house had been in an uproar. A cake had been quickly baked for an impromptu goodbye party, everyone had said their final farewells, and her baggage and boxes were primly stacked near the front door. All that was left was her special time with her best friend. The clock gonged a hollow midnight and Sari shivered. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

"How bad off is it?" she whispered, afraid to look at the bits of gold jewelry cupped in his palm.

"Pretty bad," he admitted. "The chain was all smashed, and so was part of the front. But at least we can look at the picture inside now."

"Is there really a picture inside?" she asked curiously, her Pandora's box of a mind snapping around this new diversion.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "And an engraving. A True Prince'. Hey, Sari "

Sari craned her neck to look at the small piece of gold he handed her. Sure enough, there lay the words in careful English script, though below it there seemed to be faded Asian characters. Where they katakana or hiragana? Kanji perhaps? Despite all Yamika-momma's lessons she could never remember the difference between the three to be perfectly honest. "Yes?"

Adam's brow furrowed. "Well, this girl. She looks a lot like you. See?"

Staring at the tiny face in the locket, Sari felt a prickling of unease. Yes, the face was rather similar to her own if you looked at it in the right light at the right angle. Same bright blue eyes, same angular chin. Except the skin was as milky pale as Adam's own and the hair was the most incredible shade of bubblegum pink imaginable.

"Wow, if that isn't a coincidence, I don't know what is. Why would some starlet have a locket with a woman like that in it? Are you sure it isn't her own picture?"

Shrugging, Adam pulled the younger girl close to his side and laid his head on the top of her own. He was going to miss the scamp when she was gone. But it was really the best thing for her it was just so hard to let her go even though he'd promised Anshi-san he would. "Maybe it's all part of some cosmic puzzle. Maybe the starlet was really a lesbian in love with a long lost aunt of yours and she followed her to New York."

Sari giggled, getting into the story. "Well, if you're going to say something like that, it should be my mom. This lesbian starlet had developed a crush on her after a disastrous love affair she'd been in for years and years finally ended. She met my mom near the bitter end and fell head over heals; despite the fact Mom never felt the same. After discovering what a jerk my father was she followed my mother to New York to try and start fresh, only to discover Mom was pregnant with me."

Adam chuckled. "So they exchanged tokens of love and your mother went off with you in tow. This woman became so famous she probably has own line of sneakers or perfume or something and now she regrets smashing the locket."

"Yeah," Sari chimed in, "she's going to show up on the doorstep tomorrow, demanding the locket back, and I'll be gone."

Snickering at the idea, the two friends spent the rest of the night in companionable bickering, making the most out of the remaining time they had. It was only as Sari lay in fitful sleep on the couch, her head pillowed in his lap, that Adam tried to remember what the grimy clerk at the pawnshop had said about the locket.

"She was a really pretty lady," he'd guffawed as Adam held up the delicate necklace, "looked an awful lot like that there Japanese model lady. You know, the one who makes all those military costumes the girls like so much these days? But that was years ago who knows? Coulda been the same one, now that I come to think about it." He'd coughed up a mouthful of phlegm and spat it into a wad of toilet paper he'd unrolled just for the occasion. "Whydja wanna know?"

Adam had shaken his head, refrained from answering, and had bought the locket. But now that he thought about it, he could almost remember the name of the model the old geezer had been referring to. It had been a really strange name so far as names went, but very elegant sounding. Not exotic like Anshi-san's name, but more down to earth. He just wished he had his old Japanese translation dictionary or Yamika-momma's ear for a minute. If he remembered anything about it, it meant something like tree.

He shrugged and tried to put it out of his head. If he thought on it too much, he'd never figure it out and would remain awake all night trying to remember. As it was the car would be arriving for Sari in four hours. If he wanted to be more than a blurry-eyed blob when it arrived, he'd better at least catch a catnap.

Is this your first ride on an airplane, Miss?"

Sari turned at the kind voice and nodded at the stewardess. "Yes, Ma'am, it is."

The woman smiled warmly at the attractive girl. "Would you like a window seat then? It'll be a long flight "

Swallowing hard, Sari nodded and followed the leggy blond to an empty seat in first class. Apparently when her aunt provided the accommodations, she went all the way. "Thank you." After buckling herself tightly in and pulling out her book of Roman mythology, Sari looked around the empty first class. There were a few people back in coach and business, but apparently she was the only one flying in the lap of luxury today. In a way it was a sudden shock to a girl who'd had to earn every penny at home. It was a welcome change, but one that was a bit disconcerting nonetheless.

As the plane took off, Sari pressed her face against the glass of the plane and whispered her goodbyes to the only city she could remember.

Meanwhile, Adam looked up at the sky as Sari's plane took off. "Goodbye," he murmured as Yamika gathered him in her embrace and turned him away from the window. "Now, Adam," she scolded good naturedly, "I know you'll miss her, but don't cry, dear. She'll be back soon enough, I promise."

"I hope so," he muttered, his stomach twisting in new and unpleasant ways. He was watching as the plane rapidly faded into a distant black dot in the sky. "I really hope so."

A week later Adam sat at his desk, staring moodily at a hurriedly written postcard with a picture of Big Ben on the front. The postcard Sari'd picked up in some random gift shop was crammed with tiny cramped script telling of her adventures of that first day. In a way he was happy she wrote, but on the other hand, why did it have to be so soon? Couldn't she have waited another day and sent him a long letter with everything going on? As it was all the small card did was pique his imagination and longing to see her.

Adam-

I'm sitting on my bed in the new dorm (you'd love the dorms here, Adam!) and thought you might like to see that I'm following my promise to keep in touch. I picked this up on my History field trip today and thought since you like clocks and towers so much you might get a kick out of it. The plane ride was so scary! And when we reached the airport there was a limo waiting for me to bring me here. A LIMO! Did you know they have little TV's in the back of those things?! At first I thought it was just my great-aunt providing transportation (on the plane I got to ride FIRST CLASS) but it turns out that it belonged to the school itself! Apparently there are only fifty positions in the elementary school here. Fifty! There are only two hundred students total, and that's including college level! How Great-Aunt Yurika (I know her full name now!) got me in here is a mystery, though I'm being treated like some kind of fragile china. I mean, maids and butlers and tutors the whole works! Either that's the way they do it here or she has some major connections I had no clue about. But wouldn't that be weird? I'm probably going to be expected to live up to some major expectations like (gasp) being a lady! But anyway, I'm running out of space. I love you, Adam! Send love to everyone at home and if you ever see that pretty lady Yamika-momma's friends with (the one from the hospital), say Hi'. She looked very nice.

Love,

Sari

"Hey, Adam?"

Adam turned to the door. Jacob stood there uncertainly, his arms wrapped around a large pile of junk mail. "There's a lady downstairs for you and Sari. I figured since Sari's not here you might want to tell her."

"Okay," Adam murmured, rising from his desk. Sam looked down from his bunk, and then dropped to the floor beside him.

"I'm thirsty," he protested as Adam looked at him. "I'm allowed to go down for a drink you know."

"We do have a fridge in here," Adam pointed to the small box in the corner. Sam just grinned.

With a sigh, he shook his head and gently shoved his roomy out the door. He'd deal with the nosy boy later. As Adam trudged downstairs an unfamiliar feeling of dread and amusement mingled in his stomach. For some reason voices from the past few months drifted through his mind

Pawnshop clerk: "She was a real pretty lady. She looked an awful lot like that there Japanese model lady. You know, the one who makes all those military costumes the girls like so much these days? But that was years ago who knows? Coulda been the same one, now that I come to think about it."

Sari's voice: "She's going to show up on the doorstep tomorrow, demanding the locket back, and I'll be gone!"

Even his own: "Probably some dead lover's picture is in there. Wouldn't that be spooky?"

"Can I help you?"

The blue-haired woman turned to face him and Adam felt a strange sense of vertigo. She was very pretty if you liked the business suit and tie type; her large green eyes were only a shade darker than her indigo hair. Slender build, but very busty- almost Barbie-like. She had the kind of slender legs his boss called loverly gams' in a gangster accent; despite it all, her voluptuous beauty only started there. She stood up with a liquid grace that only emphasized exactly how short the skirt she wore was rather than detracting from it and fluffed her hair. Her bright eyes seemed to snap with vivid, almost violent, intelligence. Adam was immediately on guard. This woman was more than she seemed, he could tell.

"Are you " she checked her notepad, "Adam Chida?"

He nodded. "And you are…?"

She stepped forward, extending her slender fingers for a friendly shake. Adam couldn't help the moment of indecision on his part; with those dagger-like nails, she might choose to stab him rather than introduce herself. It was with great reluctance he put his own hand in her pale little paw. She flicked a sharp smile at him as if she understood his lack of enthusiasm and credited him for a callow sort of bravery nonetheless.

"Kozue Kaoru," she said, her smile still firmly in place. "I'm the private secretary to a Miss Juri Arisugawa. You've heard of her, perhaps?" She dropped his hand and wiped it on her skirt, careful that he was watching her act.

Adam twitched at her words. He could care less for her little mind games, but in his head he heard Sari's voice: " some starlet "

He shook his head. "No, can't say I have."

Miss Kaoru stood back and looked him up and down. "I'm supposed to meet with two people here today, Mr. Chida. Where is Sari Himemiya?"

Adam felt a rush of momentary anger. This woman came to see Sari and only Sari, he could feel it. But she wasn't here; she hadn't been for over a week! Why did they want to keep rubbing it in? It's not like she was going to just show up at the door with her bags and smile her usual sunny smile just because the whim of some woman willed it so. "I'm sorry, Miss Karou," he bit out. "Sari received a wonderful opportunity to attend a prestigious dance academy in London. She left a week ago."

Kozue nodded once; her eyes darkening to a color much like a stormy summer ocean. "I see. Well then, I suppose this interview will have to be with you alone then."

Interview? Wondering what was going on, Adam nodded, his manners finally kicking in. "Would you like a seat, Miss Kaoru? A drink?"

"Scotch and water," she quipped, her smile purposefully cruel.

Adam stiffened, and then smiled thinly in return. He wasn't going to let some decidedly high-priced snooty piece of secretarial tail think she could get the best of him. She'd chosen a hell of a day to show up in his neighborhood, and he wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. Adam Chida was no one's coward despite his initial reluctance to meet with the icy beauty; he wasn't about to let a little snotty attitude stand in the way of whatever stood for dramatic irony in his life. "Bit early in the day to be hitting the bottle, isn't it Miss Kaoru?" he casually remarked as he walked to the front parlor. "Take a seat in here, and I'll be back with juice. We are a church sponsored home after all," he snidely reminded her. "Would you like apple, grape, or cranberry?"

She breezed past him and into the formal room; slowly crossing her legs in what he assumed she thought a provocative manner as she settled down into Mother Superior's brocade chaise. "Apple, please."

With a curt nod, Adam returned to the kitchen and the curious eyes of his fellow orphans. Sam was particularly interested. "Dude, what's a babe like her want with a crud like you?"

Feeling out of sorts from his bloody encounter with the woman, Adam shrugged. "Don't know. But watch out, Sammy. That one's got teeth and nails."

His friend chuckled lewdly. "That's the best kind, Adam."

Adam quickly poured the drinks, ignoring the ribald remarks going on behind him. He had to get to the middle of this puzzle and quickly. There had been something in her eyes when he'd mentioned Sari's unexpected good luck. They'd narrowed a tiny fraction, as if she'd had it on good authority that Sari'd be there and more than willing to greet her with open arms. As if someone had planned for their meeting and then had moved an important piece of the plot at last second. Miss Kozue Kaoru struck him as the type of woman who liked surprising others, not being surprised herself. He shouldered his way none too gently past his roommate and cronies and stealthily walked back towards the parlor.

His silence must have paid off; as he drew closer he could hear Miss Kaoru speaking rapidly in muffled Japanese to someone. Assuming she'd pulled out a cell phone the moment his back was turned, Adam slowed. He wouldn't want to eavesdrop exactly, but if she spoke loudly enough for him to hear as he approached the door, how was he to help doing so? It was fairly obvious with both hands occupied with the drinks; he couldn't cover his ears, now could he?

Slowing even more, Adam listened carefully, blessing Yamika-momma and her cousin. Sari didn't like Japanese much, never had, but she'd learned it anyway to make the gentle teacher and the kind baker happy. As such, Adam had learned beside her (ironically so he could understand Mr. Saccaba's horribly accented English for his job). He couldn't write even at a second grade level, but he did understand a great deal of the spoken word. It would come in handy should he decide to ever go there with Yamika-momma on her summer trips. Not a year went by that she didn't offer a plane ticket to Sari or him. They'd never had the nerve to accept yet, though each year the longing to see another country grew. Shaking himself slightly, Adam tried to keep his mind on the topic at hand- his waspish guest.

Her voice was low and angry. "Look, I don't understand it myself. I'm just telling you what the kid said." There was a pause, then: "You sure? I can just make up a couple of questions and then leave. It's not like he's all that important, she specifically asked Miki about the kid." What kid?! Adam's mind whirled. It was fairly obvious early on she had been referring to him, but was the kid' in question Sari? Who was interested in her? And who was Miki?

She was interested now. "Really? We still have that position open? How like Miki to want that. What? Fine then, I'll interview this one, make the offer if I think you two might click, and if he pans out I'll give you a call. Ciao."

Carefully shouldering open the door, Adam forced a bright and malicious smile. She would be expecting him to still be on edge from their previous encounter and be rather suspicious if he suddenly was warm and fuzzy to her.

"Your drink," he offered, setting the juice on a coaster beside her. She looked down at it, then back at him.

"No rat-poison?" she slyly asked, her dark eyes twinkling. "I know we didn't have the best of starts."

Adam was rather taken aback. It was rather obvious that this Juri-woman had told her retainer to be slightly more polite, but he wondered why the flirtatious act all of a sudden. "You could say that," he replied dryly. "What do you want, Miss Kaoru?"

The notepad came out again, and the woman leaned back; she was wriggling as if she couldn't find a comfortable spot on the whole couch. "Call me Kozue, okay? And I'll call you Adam. We'll make nice-nice so I can get out of here. Capiche?"

"Right."

She cleared her throat and took a sip of the proffered drink. "Name: Adam Chida. Age: Fourteen?"

He nodded.

"Alright then. As I said before, I'm a representative for the office of Juri Arisugawa. You said you hadn't heard of her, so I'll give you a bit of background. My employer, Juri-sempai, was a model for several years. You may not recognize her name, but you might her face." With that she drew a small photo out of her breast pocket and presented it to him.

The first thing that struck him was her eyes. Large and limpid, they were the color of a tropical island pool one where the water was so clear you can see the bottom and tiny schools of tropical fish through it's incredible green-gold depths. She was a remarkable beauty. Shuddering with his mingled attraction and a strange sense of deja vu he forced himself to continue; with a steady eye, Adam looked the picture up and down. She was blessed with long legs, slender build, and a cascade of golden hair an impossible color of tangerine or orange or some unique shade. It was a studio shot, but the clothing wasn't important (though his mind informed him the jeans and tousled button-up did look damn sexy on her) it was more her whole attitude. The studio had some remarkable photographers: they caught the pure rigid strength in her posture, the aloof tilt to her chin, and the barely perceptible humor in her eyes. The picture seemed to say: This is a woman who'd seen hell and is made of impossibly fragile iron. Cool, aloof, breathtakingly beautiful. She is a survivor. This face has never known anything lasting. But she is damn sure going to try and try and try some more to hold on to something eternal until the world knew she was there. Until it all comes tumbling down.

He swallowed harshly and handed the picture back. The woman smirked slightly at his expression. "She does that to all the boys. I'd be jealous, but there's no point."

"Really?" Adam could have sunk into his chair at the sound of his throaty voice. Yep, if he looked at that picture again, he might really embarrass himself with a raging hard on. Something told him that Kozue knew exactly that and wasn't surprised. Amused would be more like it. "Why is that?" He cleared his throat again while trying not to blush. Kozue would only smirk more.

She snickered, a surprisingly unlady-like gesture. "Oh, she's a lesbian. Not at all interested, so most of her prospective conquistadors come running to me when they realize they're not getting shit."

"Oh." Wow.

She seemed almost amused by both his reaction and her gratuitous explanation of her employer's taste. If anything, it seemed they might be close, she didn't seemed ashamed to be stating Juri's preferences so blatantly. "Continuing," she stated, shifting in her chair once more, "Ms. Arisugawa spent many years (if you'll pardon my pun) manning the runways until fashion dictated she take an early retirement. She's still as beautiful as the day she graduated high school, more so in my opinion, but it's only fair to give the younger girls a chance, ne? Now she designs clothing for the very rich, the very famous, and the very bored. Namely rich trophy wives who want one-of-a-kind costumes for their parties, this week's Hollywood star, and those with obscene amounts of money who just want to be different. She's so successful at her work that she has a ton of money and no one to spend it on. Here's where you come in."

"Really " he drawled. Confusion didn't quite cover what exactly he was feeling at the moment. Adam had no clue where he could fit into this puzzle or even how such a rich and powerful (and beautiful, don't forget beautiful his mind reminded him) woman would want with a lowly peon of an orphan like him. "Would you care to explain?"

She held up her notepad and studied it a moment. "Most certainly. Adam, it says here you have no clue as to your family. Is that correct?"

He shook his head. "I know enough about them."

"Hmmm," she pursed her lips. "Do you know the name of your mother, Adam?"

"What has that got to do with anything, Kozue?"

She stared at him over the edge of the pad. Her eyes were sharp daggers once more; the slow camaraderie they'd been building was all but gone. "Just answer the question, Mr. Chida."

He nearly flincked at the ice in her gaze. "Tokiko. Are you happy?"

he nodded. "Quite. Your mother was an administrative executive for most of her career when after the death of her brother she chose to change careers. She married an American man by the name of Alexander Dupris and moved to New York. There she was a trophy wife herself until the day of her death. You were born extremely late in both her marriage and her life. Both your mother and stepfather "

Until this moment, Adam had been nodding along, wondering why she'd verified his mother's name before beginning. But it was at this point that Adam's head snapped up. "Stepfather?"

She looked at her notepad. "According to our research, the identity of your real father was never discovered, Adam. She married a sterile man and several years into the marriage produced one child- you. Your stepfather asked no questions; he just agreed you would be raised as his own and several years later about four or so- made the arrangements for adoption. Sadly both he and your mother died in a plane crash returning from a visit to Ohtori campus in Japan only a week before the proceedings were to be finalized. Your mother had a younger brother who died when she was in her early twenties, and your stepfather had no known relatives. Thus you were given over to the state. Case closed."

Adam had read most of the story before the night he and Sari had picked their way into the system. Somehow Kozue's superiors knew he knew his own history or she wouldn't have reiterated it to him in such a point blank fashion. Who was this woman? He shuddered slightly. Ohtori why had that sounded so familiar? He just couldn't place where he'd heard that name before

Watching him carefully, Kozue sighed; a bored, petulant sound. "Have you wondered enough, Mr. Chiba, or would you like a moment more?"

He swallowed again and drank several gulps of his juice. "Go on."

She nodded. "Fine. Now, to continue. Ms. Arisugawa also went to Ohtori. On one such visit to Ohtori your mother came in contact with my employer. They shared interests in some of the same things; bowling, candied flowers, jewelry, and the like. They became pen pals of a sort. Recently, Juri-sempai decided to look up her old pen pal and discovered the horrible tragedy. Naturally she was distraught and decided that she couldn't allow one of her friend's children to live in such a place."

Bullshit, Adam thought. This is a load of utter bullshit.

Kozue continued, having dived headfirst back into her papers and did not notice the look of mild disgust that crossed Adam's face. He was guessing at Juri's age, but he's put her at around twenty-six or twenty-seven at best. His mother had been a youthful-looking woman even until his birth. But she'd been almost fifty at that time! Had she lived, she would be closing in on sixty-four or so this year. There was no way two such different women could have become friends. The idea was too farfetched. But he let her continue.

"An offer has been made both to the state and this institution. On behalf of her dear friend, my employer has offered to be your foster mother. Of a sort, of course. Should you decide to take her up on her generous offer, a position will be made for you to earn your keep as an in-house aide in a wide variety of locals and you'll receive only the best schooling her money can provide."

"At Ohtori?"

Kozue looked slightly taken aback. Was he mistaken or was there a sort of primal fear in her eyes at the mention of the academy? "No, of course not. You'll be provided with tutors. It is Ms. Arisusawa's intention to get to know Tokiko's child, not abandon him at some frumpy private academy. Besides," she coughed, "Ohtori is impossible to get into even for the very rich. You either have to have a family member on the board of directors, or close personal connections. Only the very special and original are offered application there. You don't choose Ohtori, Adam; Ohtori chooses you. Both Juri and myself were students there only by the whim of close cousins and oodles of money. As for your schooling it will be private tutors as I've already said; you may have her backing, but you won't be allowed out of her sight until you've proven yourself."

"And Sari? You asked to speak to her too."

Kozue raised one immaculate eyebrow and nodded slowly. "You have a good memory, I see. Juri-sempai didn't always have the luck with her looks she does now. When she first came to New York she was living hand to mouth. Her parents might have agreed to their attractive daughter being a model when she was in their good graces, but when they found she well played for the other team, they were furious. All of Juri's money comes from the fact she made it on her own. Realize that now." Kozue stood up and stretched slightly. Adam noticed that sometime during their discussion she had removed her shoes and now stood in black stockings on the cold wooden floor. "As for Miss Himemiya, it had come to our attention that she recently turned ten years old."

"And that has what to do with Juri?"

Kozue chortled. "She was recently photographed for an upcoming dance recital with a necklace on. I believe it was given to her as a birthday gift. A locket. Ring any bells?"

Adam froze. "…some starlet " he whispered.

"I see you know about the necklace I'm referring to," she purred. "Juri-sempai had to sell it when she first came to New York. She wouldn't have done it except she needed the money or turn to a life of questionable means. But she never forgot the pawnshop she sold it in. Ironically she got her first chance at success less than a week later. She had to fly out of the country or she would have returned for the necklace. Years passed and one day she was looking at an old Ohtori yearbook when she remembered it. A week ago at her London showing, actually. Naturally, she called and discovered it was gone. Then the next day she got a forwarded letter in the mail. It was an invitation to come to a dance recital from some old friends of hers. Seemed they ran a dance school in New York and wanted Juri to attend their next show. She normally doesn't have time for such things, but it was the cast picture tucked into the playbill that caught her attention. Front and center was your Miss Himemiya, with Juri's long lost necklace around her neck. She called her friends and they told her about Sari's little accident at Christmas and her pretty birthday gift. It was a strange coincidence, and though Juri-sempai doesn't believe in anything like miracles or gifts from God, she sent me to check it out. Tell me was the locket smashed near the hinge?"

Adam nearly choked at her last question. He shook his head, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. "No no it wasn't. Must have been a different locket."

Kozue shot him a look that clearly said she knew he was lying, but Adam didn't care. He didn't want this crazy woman or her connected boss anywhere near Sari. "I see."

"That you do," he quipped returning her look with a dangerous one of his own.

Kozue stepped back into her shoes, unimpressed. "Well, Mr. Chida? Are you interested?"

Closing his eyes, Adam licked his lips. Sari was gone, there was no one here he could say he cared about as much as her, Alicia be damned. Why should she be the only one to get to travel the world and see exotic places? Sure, he was setting himself up, he knew it, but here was a chance and even if it was a big lie, this woman seemed to believe Juri had known his mother. His mother.

Adam shivered at the thought. Adoption.

"Can I have a day?" he asked.

Kozue raised her eyebrow once more, then nodded. "Take all the time you want. But try and figure it out in a day or two, okay? I'm here on more business than a broken necklace and some long lost kid, you know. I have things to do and my stay will be up by Friday. If you're coming all the papers have been signed and sealed. All you need to do is pack. Nice having money, ne?"

"Friday? What if I haven't decided by then?"

She shrugged. "Juri-sempai's a patient person, but she's been known to change her mind. You might want to not take too long, okay?" Her voice was condescending. "So think fast. Ja."

Adam watched as she gathered her purse and notepad; her steps towards the front door were tiny in those incredibly high heels. "Kozue?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

"How did you get this job? Did you know Juri at Ohtori?"

For the first time during the entire meeting, Adam thought absently, he was seeing her real face. Kozue looked so lost, so scared in that one split-second that he truly pitied her. There was such longing there; apparently Juri wasn't the only one with a spine of deceptively fragile iron. "My brother, Miki," she began, a very slight tremble in her normally cool voice, "he was on the Student Council with Juri. He got me the job to keep me off the streets after I dropped out."

Adam wanted to walk over to her and draw the tired woman into his arms, but a moment later decided against it. Her emotions rebounded quickly; suddenly she was nails and teeth again. Her vicious little grin said so. "Anyway, kid. Don't take your time. It might sneak up on you."

"I'll come," he said. The words startled him as much as they amused her. Kozue looked at him for one tight second then threw her head back and laughed a low throaty purr of pleasure that tingled up his spine. Yes, she might be the business suit and notebook type at day, but something inside him told Adam she was more of a night prowler than even the hardest of New York thugs. Those flashing teeth were like those of small fierce little animal- and a rabid one to boot.

"Good," she chortled. "I'll be here Friday night with a cab. Pack all your things into boxes except a carry on bag and two suitcases. I'll have a driver come by Thursday for the boxes and he'll Fed Ex them ahead of us. Do you know any Japanese?"

Nodding dumbly, Adam refrained himself from smiling as the smug grin faded from her face. She was wondering if he'd heard her conversation of earlier, he'd bet his Baywatch collection on it. She cleared her throat, regarding him now as an equal. Adam wasn't thrilled at the prospect. Before he'd merely been a toy to her; now he was a challenge. Numbly, he wondered if he'd live to even meet Juri. At the rate Kozue was going he might not even see the week out. "Good," she purred. "Then you won't have any trouble. Our first stop is Tokyo. See you Friday. Ja ne."

"Ja," he whispered. "Friday."

~_^

Author's Note: All usual disclaimer information applies here. I think Nabiki just impounded my poodle, so now I'm officially poor. Just hoped you enjoyed the story. As always, special thanks to Alan Harnum. If he didn't plow

through my first drafts this would already be a vastly different (and much less spiffy) story.

You can visit my website at

http://www.geocities.com/utena_skiss/index.html

Thanks!

Angelkate