Chapter Seven

I'm all out of faith

This is how I feel

I'm cold and I am shamed

Lying naked on the floor

Illusion never changed

into something real

Wide awake and I can see

The perfect sky is torn

You're a little late

I'm already torn

"Torn" - Natalie Imbruglia

"…Yes, thank you for calling me."

Pause.

"No, no. I'll take care of it. I'll make sure her parents know. You shouldn't have to do that at a time like this."

Pause. Tap, tap.

"My condolences. Please call the History department and contact her instructors."

Pause. Tap, tap. Clink of glass.

"Yes. Goodnight to you too."

Click.

Akio gently set the receiver back into its cradle and then turned his swivel chair around to face the wide window behind his desk. Another death. This was bad. Ohtori was quickly gaining a reputation for something other than excellence. In two months six students had died mysteriously in their sleep with no mark on them. The doctors had pronounced the strange series of deaths all natural, which left Ohtori suspiciously innocent in the eyes of the general public and the Board of Directors. Nothing had been said yet, but Akio would have to be blind to note the sudden drop in applications and the remarkable influx of transfer requests piled in his inbox.

Grimacing to himself, Akio turned back to his work and tried to drown his worries in red tape and paperwork. Much had changed in those two months, much he didn't like thinking about when the lights were off and the window shutters to the observatory were down. Akio was growing more desperate by the day and he knew it. Utena…

Less than an hour later a knock on the door of his inner sanctum thankfully drew his attention away from his dire thoughts.

"Ohtori-san? I'm sorry to interrupt your work, sir, but I have those papers you needed to sign. It'll only take a moment of your time."

Akio glanced up at the timid man standing just inside the elevator and waved a hand, gesturing the man forward. He was one of the new British teachers from their sister academy in London and was as yet unused to the various formalities of Ohtori Academy such as passing such mundane paperwork to the English department secretary. Making a mental note to have his assistant post a memo for the newcomers, he held out his hand. "Bring them here please."

Stepping forward, the little man was almost shaking with suppressed awe and fear of the expansive observatory. In the slowly dimming light of day, the vaulted ceilings were like nothing he'd ever seen before. Everything was faintly tinged red and gold, like a faded graveyard at sunset. How could the dean work in such a large and nearly empty room? It would give him the creeps. He wiped one hand across his brow as Akio began scanning the papers, only signing when he was satisfied they were adequate. Timidly clearing his throat, he wrung his hands. "I can't thank you enough, sir, for letting me work here. I know a lot of the professors at Bara Academy had to go back into the work force, and-"

Clicking his pen closed, Akio leveled a cool stare at the twitching man before him. "You speak fluent Japanese, Smith-san and hold a doctorate in Shakespearian literature from Oxford. Such a rare combination is difficult to find. It was the very least I could do after the fire."

Smith nodded nervously and held out his hand for the papers that Akio laid in his palm gravely. "Have they come any closer in discovering who-"

Akio tapped his pen once on the desk and looked pointedly at his watch. "I believe you are late for a night class, Smith-san."

The man gaped at the dean a moment before nodding once and fleeing to the elevator. Akio moodily stared after him. At Utena's request he'd hired most of the jobless teachers from Bara Academy to fill odd spots in Ohtori. But he would have done so without her orders. As he had told Smith, it was the least he could do. Such as it was, Smith had lucked out and remained teaching a subject he was familiar with. Most of the transplanted teachers were working outside their fields of expertise. As such the complaints piled on his desk grew by the day and there seemed no rest from all the new administrative duties now piled on his shoulders. Had it always been this difficult to run the academy or was he finally growing weary of it all?

The pad of feet on tile made Akio nearly cringe. She was finally back. He'd started wondering if she was ever going to return from the mysterious trips she'd begun. Early in the game he'd made it a point to never ask her where she was going and to never question her on her return. Utena held secrets behind her eyes he never wanted to hear and he knew if he asked, she'd tell. In great and gory detail at that. It was better to remain silent and just ignore the grisly hints.

Recently, despite his love for the girl she'd been, he'd hoped she wouldn't return from these little excursions, but it didn't seem that his wishes would be granted. But her luck had to run out one of these days. It was impossible to do the things she had to do on her trips and not get caught eventually. The odds were against her, he reasoned with himself, knowing in his heart that he lied. The Swords took care of their own; she would not be detained in her travels, she would always return to him and their strange connection.

As if in answer to his silent musings a slender hand pressed on the back of his neck and sharp nails scratched lightly against the sensitive skin of his earlobes. "More problems?"

"You could say that," he ground out. He'd found it more and more difficult to remain stoic around her as the months melted into years. She just knew him too well, and his previously untouchable buttons were pressed daily now, at her whim. It goaded him to know a mere slip of a girl could bring him so damn low with one action, one word.

Utena was uncustomarily silent at his assent. Akio waited for a taunt, a word-- something to indicate she heard and was gloating over his difficulties. Nothing.

Instead her fingers twined through his hair leisurely; he sucked in a deep breath, aware of where she was going with this. How strange to be the hunted rather than the hunter, he thought absently as her teeth nipped the lines of his shoulder. She had changed from the child she had been in so many ways, but this was one thing he would not change. Pleasure. They found so much pleasure in one another when they weren't locked in battle. Her fingers skittered down his chest. With one impatient rip all the buttons popped off his shirt and she yanked the fabric down his arms and torso, baring his chest to her expert hands. She kneaded taut muscles with a burning touch and he nearly groaned with the pleasure of it.

They fit together so perfectly at times as if they'd been molded for one another and no one else. Quite often, in the quiet moments after they'd gone at one another like wild beasts, Akio would cup her to him and wonder what would be different had he not been so foolishly stubborn about bringing the Revolution all those years ago. If he'd found an alternate way to save his sister from her duties as Rose Bride, if he'd broken off his engagement to Kanae, if he'd treated Utena another way in the end. If he hadn't been manipulative from the very start. He didn't dare say it, but secretly he believed that the outcome would be very, very different from where he currently found himself. Very different indeed.

"Akio-san?"

Steeling himself for another brutal round of baiting and battle, Akio drew away from the warm fingers and turned to face Utena. "Yes?"

At the sight of her, he nearly gasped. A few months ago she'd been on the mend, or so it seemed. But now… skeletal didn't even describe her. He had known she had ceased eating again, but her body… her frame looked only loosely held together by skin and sinew. Even her hair seemed to be clinging to her head by sheer force of will alone. She was a jumble of bones and skin and hotly burning eyes… eyes trained on him. "I missed you," she whispered, leaning forward so the short crop of her faded pink hair brushed against his cheek.

The sliding caress was almost more than Akio could handle; he had to actually grip the arms of his chair to keep from thrusting her away from him and frantically rub his cheek to rid himself of that awful feathery feeling on his face.

The Swords glinted behind the blue in her eyes. He could almost hear the edgy scrape of metal rasping against metal; the hornets drone of the approaching attack. But there was something different about this particular encounter, something oddly off.

"Where did you go?" he whispered suddenly as he looked her over, not caring of the unspoken vow to never ask her such questions. He needed to know. He needed her to tell him she wasn't the killer of all those children. He needed to hear that she was still innocent somewhere inside.

She shook her head and brushed one stained hand down his face, leaving streaks of red and brown in her wake. "Shhh, that's not important. It's my little secret." As she spoke Akio's eyes skittered past her to stop at the bag in the corner, covered in grass and dirt with splashes of red for color. Oh god…what had she done?

Almost as if sensing his fear and dismay, Utena drew back and wiped her hands on her filthy jeans. The swords dimmed in her eyes and Akio took a deep breath as the cold and businesslike Utena took over for the more frightening twin underneath the skin. "The new students at the Academy…the ones that transferred from London. How are they doing?"

Akio cleared his throat and donned the most impersonal and commanding mask he had left to him after such a sight, the title of Dean. "They seem to be doing well for the most part."

She nodded. "And my council?"

Grimacing, Akio turned to rifle through his drawers. This was one of the things that made him wish he'd strangled her all those months ago when she'd been at her weakest. Moments later he held up five slim black envelopes. "Signed 'The Ends of Innocence' as per your request."

Utena's smile had a sharp edge to it as she took the letters from the former Ends of the World. "You don't seem pleased. I would think you would be thrilled to have the Gates of Revolution open again."

He snorted derisively. "What I did, Utena, was shape you into something powerful. I made you into the tool I needed to control everything. What you plan… it won't work. It isn't honorable battle. It isn't a game. It is just slaughter."

She leaned forward and cupped his chin in her hand. "Care to make a wager on that? My council pitted against yours?"

Sneering, he drew away. A bit of his courage returned at the impish look she gave him. How dare she?! How dare she play at his game and expect him to just nod his head and agree to go along with it?! "Hardly fair," he acquiesced. "Considering some of my chosen duelists have died."

Utena dropped to the floor and wriggled out of her jeans as he spoke. She conceded his point with a nod of her head and a glance at her stained bag. "True. Nanami is so much worm food now, isn't she?" With one fluid motion, Utena kicked her leg into the air and caught her ankle with her hand. Clad only in her underwear and a formerly white shirt, drying now with dark streaks of maroon and brown, she began stretching in a sad parody of her youthful self.

She always used to stretch like that as she thought, Akio mused to himself. When she was most confused she always depended on her athleticism to see her through. That is still the same at least. Perhaps not all of her is gone after all.

Pursing her lips, Utena suddenly dropped her leg and snapped her fingers. "I know! Mikage's old duelists! You chose them through him. They can be your council."

Shaking his head, Akio moved away and lounged easily on his expansive couch. "Shiori is dead. Your friend Wakaba is gone and as for the others…"

"You're not making this easy for me," she complained lightly.

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to," he replied evenly. "But your little competition…"

"Juri is still alive," she snapped. "So are Touga, Saionji, and Miki. I may have selected my council, but they haven't accepted yet. So for the moment it sounds fair to me. Besides, Sari hasn't even…"

She stopped and chuckled. "How stupid of me. I'd forgotten."

Akio's heart nearly stopped in his chest. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Sauntering over to the desk, Utena laid her palms flat on a clear area and boosted herself up on the expansive desktop. With a soft growl she shoved the mountain of complaint forms, dismissals, expulsions, and transfer admissions to the floor. As the papers lazily drifted down, Utena rolled to her stomach and dialed a number on the speakerphone. Moments later a young girl picked up the other end. "Hello?"

"Himemiya Sari, please," Utena purred.

"I'm sorry, Sari isn't in right now. She's in piano class. May I take a message?"

Utena pouted a second, and then shook her head. "No. Just let her know that she had a call. Bye."

Akio was at her side a moment later, pressing her to the desk forcibly. His naked chest pressed against her filthy shirt, her bare legs tangled with his. Enough was enough. Their eyes were locked, teal to blue. "Utena. Don't do this to her. She's innocent."

There was a momentary sting as she thrust upward and bit his lip. Two drops of blood dripped down and curved over her pale cheeks like crimson tears. She licked her pink tongue up the line of his jaw and he shuddered with suppressed emotion as the touch. These past six months had wrought the most disturbing changes yet- in both Utena and himself. It was as if they BOTH had gone stark raving mad. Would it ever end?

She growled low in her throat. "I was innocent once too, Akio-SAN. Remember? But she will free me. And Anshi. Then we can truly be together. Sari will be the next Rose Bride and she will bear the weight of my soul just as Anshi carried yours."

"You won't," he forced, holding her down to the desk, forgetting himself in his anger. She may have the Swords within her, but he was still the stronger of the two physically. There was a thud as his stapler toppled off the desk to join the papers on the floor. With one fluid motion Akio shoved his leg under hers and used the rest of his body to pin her down. They were flush from shoulder to toe. He'd tie her up and hold her hostage if he had to, no matter how much he cared about her. She couldn't do this to them. Not anymore. "I won't let you leave here. She's our daughter, Utena. Have you forgotten that?"

Realizing this was not the game she'd intended, Utena's eyes narrowed as she struggled against Akio's tight grip. "Let go of me."

"No. You've gone too far."

"I'm warning you, Akio-san. Let go of me."

"You're not getting up from this desk, Utena."

At the first slight hum of sound Akio immediately regretted his actions. He'd forgotten for a few brief minutes that he was not in fact dealing with Utena. Utena would never have acted this way. She would have never challenged him so fiercely. It was just her body in his arms, her shell. What was left of Utena within the shell might as well be dead for all the help she'd be to him right now. The real force he had been trying to tangle with was the Million Swords. And they weren't happy with him. No, not happy at all.

The first sting of pain was from his right thigh. A quivering rapier secured him firmly to the desk as blood began welling up from the wound and dripped sluggishly down. The second impaled his right shoulder. Utena took the momentary diversion to wriggle out from under him and roll off the desk. She ferally bared her teeth at him as the next one sliced down through his side and the next shoved its way bluntly through his outstretched palm. And still the swords kept coming. The blood seeped out slowly, each cut was cauterized almost immediately and only the barest bit of blood was shed before the next weapon took its revenge. He writhed and gasped, but would not give the grinning harpy watching him struggle the satisfaction of his screams. Anshi had been able to hold her tongue as they skewered her time and time again; for the memory of his sister he could do no less. But even the strongest grow weary of their burdens over time. When the pain and Utena's sick sneer grew finally too much to bear, Akio simply let go and blacked out.

What seemed hours later he awoke in his own bed with a white rose clenched in his hand. Akio hissed in a breath suddenly; those thorns were sharp. But it was a message from Utena, he knew. He was unbelievably weak, so much so he could barely move, and she knew it. But he did manage one thing. Holding out a hand, Akio turned it first one way and then another. Not a single blemish, yet he knew he had not dreamed the torture. He had vastly underestimated the strength of the Swords. He had underestimated the hold they had over Utena. But what was worse, he had a sense that the little tableau had changed nothing.

Not one thing.

Things would still be the same between he and Utena.

Her damned Council would still be contacted.

Sari was still going to be the next Rose Bride. Nothing would change that. She had been training her daughter indirectly for years; preparing Sari for the role Utena had refused herself. Sari would become Anshi… and so help them all. For if the duels were resurrected as Utena wished it would not be a simple game of slicing a rose from your opponent's chest. No child's game was this. Utena, in order to fully bring about the Revolution needed a larger sacrifice than that. She needed power. She needed each duel to end not with a shower of rose petals but with the soft sound of splattering life. The duels of her council were to end at first blood.

"Dios," Akio whispered, staring up at the ceiling above. "If you're still there, somewhere… Help them. Help Sari. Because like this…I'm helpless. She has me." He bowed his head a moment as if in prayer, and only the most observant would have noticed the fine trembling which caught his body…or the blood that sluggishly welled from his tightly clenched fist down the stem of the rose to bloom crimson on his blanket below.

Several weeks later.

"Himmemiya-kun? Please stay after class," called a voice as the bells rang and the other students rose to go to lunch. Sari frowned a moment, but obediently remained behind as her instructor brushed a lock of his black hair off his face and just looked at her as the students filed out, whispering among themselves.

"Yes, Kazami-sensei?"

The instructor stopped before her with a slightly worried look on his face and handed Sari back her most recent examination. "Did you study at all for this, Himmemiya?"

Sari nearly lost her composure at the large 34 scrawled in red ink across the top of the title page. "Yes, Sensei. I did, but…"

He shook his head. "I taught you at Bara Academy, Himmemiya. I know your grades and your record are -much- better than this. Is something going on in your life that you need to talk about? Has the transfer been that difficult for you?"

Turning her face momentarily away, Sari contemplated telling him all of it, every last little detail. The strange dreams, the increasing odd phone calls from the androgynous voice, the overwhelming worry that something at this school just wasn't right. She'd only been attending Ohtori a month, yet already she felt suffocated, pressured into a role of sweetness and virtue she normally would have embraced.

But she was -too- sweet here.

-Too- nice… as if her own feisty personality were subjugated in this foreign climate.

She longed to tell him she hated it here and she just wanted to go home to London… or better yet, New York. She wanted to tell him that the only thing keeping her from bolting was her daily walk with Miki and working with Mitsuru after school on the katana.

He was impressed with her progress. Under Miki's tutelage she'd long since mastered the quick rapier and unwieldy broadsword. Now was time to work with a true weapon; the grace of the katana suited her.

But she said none of this.

"I don't know, Kazami-sensai. I will do better."

He snorted, but worry darkened his eyes. "I will allow a makeup examination this Saturday afternoon. I expect to see you here with bells on. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Himmemiya-kun?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good." He gathered his supplies and bowed politely to someone just outside the door as Sari slumped down into her seat with relief. That had gone much better than she'd expected. Glaring at the failed examination, she crumpled it into a little ball and chucked it at the door. Rather than sailing smoothly into the trashcan in the corner, Sari was rather surprised to see the paper stop in midair. It hung there, suspended in its flight by a slender hand of the palest hue. Her eyes strayed up the arm to the owner of the hand and her only reaction was one of slight surprise.

"Good throw," murmured the owner of the appendage, as the test was unrolled and exposed in all its horrible glory. "But a bad grade like this doesn't really make a worthy basketball. I much preferred tossing away my good grades."

"Why would you do that?" Sari was curious about this genial invader despite herself. Her impression of the stranger was a collection of random bits; slender but muscled arms, coltish frame, sweep of shining hair, and perfectly straight teeth. Yet somewhere in all that dissection she understood that the woman was beautiful in a very uncontrived manner.

"Bad grades meant I wasn't concentrating on school," the woman explained, sauntering into the room and settling down beside Sari. "I had something more important going on in my life. Don't get me wrong, grades are important. But they weren't as important as the sheer act of living. That took the kind of gutsy willpower sitting down with a book never needed." She shrugged; on her it was an eloquent motion. "Besides I was such a tomboy all through school. I never wore dresses, rarely went to parties or dances. I kept pretty much to myself and a few good friends. I didn't need anything more than them."

She must have noted the longing on Sari's face, because she paused. "That bothers you?"

Sari shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have many friends here myself."

"Just moved with the other transfer students?"

"Yeah."

"Here. I'll tell you a little secret. If you want to make friends, you have to try at least one thing. Go out for a club or something."

Sari laughed. "It's not that simple."

The woman raised one eyebrow and then turned to face the trashcan. "You do realize you could be the prince of the school if you tried, right? With a shot like that, I could have ruled the basketball court when I was your age."

"You played basketball?"

She chuckled. "Basketball, baseball, tennis. Name a sport and I probably tried it once."

"Fencing."

The woman stiffened slightly and then flashed a brilliant grin at Sari. "That too. I had my share of swordplay in school. This school as a matter of fact."

"You attended Ohtori?"

One slow nod was her answer; coupled with a dreamy expression. "Ohtori and I go a long way back, Sari. You could say I never really escaped my need for this place. School was this giant illusion that supported me and cared for me in a way reality couldn't; though gods knew I tried to make it all work out in the real world. But sometimes you find that you just can't grow up. Your burdens are just too heavy."

"Deep," she murmured in reply. "But, uh…"

The woman glanced casually at her watch and flashed that sharp grin once more. "You probably are running late for lunch, correct?"

"Well…"

"See you later, Sari." The woman abruptly stood and walked out, without even a look back. Sari just stared at her retreating back. What in the world just happened? Who was that strange woman? And how did she know her name? It was just one more inexplicable thing to add to her growing list of oddities.

Frowning to herself, Sari gathered her things once more and headed toward the lunchroom to eat alone once more. Miki had a class this hour and Mitsuru was often occupied tutoring around this time of day as well. Which usually meant a lonely lunch hour for Sari, as she hadn't made any new friends yet. In a way it made her heart ache for the familiar jabber of Alex and Betty. Despite their many flaws, the two girls had always been a source of comfort for Sari. And they would never let her eat alone.

A few minutes later Sari entered the lunchroom and stood in the open doorway a bare moment or two. She murmured to herself: "Where is everyone?"

The lunchroom was practically deserted.

"Maybe outside then," she sighed, moving toward the soda machines.

But the rose garden, the atrium, and the bleachers were all deserted as well. Sari hated eating in such utter silence; she may not have anyone to eat with but she did enjoy the sound of gossip and laughter floating around her at lunchtime. It made her feel a little more at home. Finally, she gave up and settled down on a grassy knoll overlooking a good portion of campus. Shuffling through her bag, Sari came across her British Literature text and opened it. Chaucer might not be the easiest of reading for a balmy afternoon lunch, but at least she wouldn't look like a total loser sitting here by herself. As she read and ate two boys passed on their way to the fencing hall. Some sort of competition was occurring this period-most of the student body had chosen to attend it rather than spend their free hour eating and relaxing.

Sari momentarily considered going, but ultimately decided against it. Lunch hour was almost over-she'd wasted almost half of it searching for people to eat near. Besides, she'd seen some of the world's best fencers traveling with Mitsuru and Miki; a high school competition would probably seem like nothing after such impressive displays.

Absently chewing on a celery stick, she continued her assignment, when a cloud blocked the sun. Sari looked up and was half-blinded by the bright sunlight. The lack of light wasn't from a cloud-the dark shadow across her book came from a student. A tall one at that.

"Can I help you?" Blinking to clear her eyesight, she tried to keep her voice polite, but an edge of annoyance peeped through. It was really rude of them to just stand there at that odd angle and not move. With the way the sun was streaming around them like a halo, Sari could barely make them out.

"Maybe." The voice was husky-Sari couldn't tell if it was naturally that way or perhaps the student had a cold. "What are you reading?"

Sari shifted over to let the sun shine on her page once more. "Chaucer."

"I read him once. Montclair the Rooster, right?"

"Right." Sari cleared her throat, reached for another celery stick, and tried to return to her book. Much to her annoyance she found that the student had moved once more and was yet again blocking her light. "Excuse me, do you mind?"

"Not at all." The figure dropped down beside her and Sari blinked in surprise. The voice had been so deep and the student so tall she'd just assumed that the speaker was a guy.

"Nurikia," the tomboyish girl offered her hand then linked her fingers loosely around her ankles and began stretching. Had she been wearing the girl's Ohtori uniform, Sari would have been able to get an impressive display of leg. As it was, she just seemed very limber. "You're Himmemiya Sari, right?" This girl had a slight accent; she was obviously not native Japanese, despite her exotic name.

Sari couldn't help staring at the bright crimson hair cascading down the girl's back. It had been caught back with a large clip so that it hit behind her neck and shoulders… but it was incredibly thick… and there was so much of it.

Inwardly shaking herself, Sari returned the handshake and watched enviously as the girl touched her nose to the ground easily. It had been years since Sari had been able to stretch like that, since dance class in New York at least.

"Right. How did you…?" Sari gestured loosely, not sure how to complete her question.

"Know your name?" Apparently finished with her stretch, Nurikia shrugged and reached over. She plucked the book out of Sari's nerveless fingers and laid a blade of grass as a place marker before snapping the text shut. "You're in the class below me with my kid brother."

Nodding, Sari smiled hesitantly. "What's his name?"

"Kaji," she grinned. "You probably wouldn't notice him. He tends to stay to the back. He's a little dork like that."

"Oh," Sari hadn't been there long enough to learn too many names, so she merely nodded.

A few minutes passed while she fumbled for conversation. Nothing came easily to mind until a group of girls passed by gushing about the fencing competition.

"It must be over," she commented softly.

"It must be," agreed Nurikia. "It was Heero and Tama. I wonder if Tama won."

"Tama?"

"Harikino Tama," she explained. "The Student Council Representative for the High School? Tall, dark hair, absolutely gorgeous?"

Sari shook her head. "I don't think I've met him."

Nurkia laughed. "Of course you haven't. If you had, you'd know -exactly- who I was talking about. Tama is a playboy extraordinaire, if you catch my drift. The boy has class and style down to a fine art. I mean, if he were a vampire I can name at least ten girls who'd happily die in his arms. But wow, what a way to go!" She winked slyly at Sari and leaned back again, crossing her ankles primly and tilting her chin up to the sky.

Fumbling for a tactful way to phrase her next question, Sari finally gave up and was blunt. "You know this… Tama… well?"

Chuckling, Nurikia took a moment to answer. She brushed crimson bangs out of her eyes and the sun momentarily glinted on a simple silver ring around her middle finger. "I've known him since we were kids. He used to live down the street from Kaji and I. He and his cousin Makoto lived with their grandparents until their parents returned from the States. It was a couple of years at least. That's probably why they ended up at Ohtori now that I come to think about it. Globe-trotting folks probably doesn't make much of a home life. What about you?"

Frowning, Sari glanced over at the bright young woman. "What about me?"

"Well you're obviously not from around here. You weren't here last semester; I'd remember a face like yours pretty easily, I think. So what's your story, hmm?"

"Who says I have to have a story?"

"Your eyes do. They're a little too sad to not have some sort of history behind them." Nurikia winked again-- the hand not blocking the sunlight poked the necklace around Sari's neck. "Like that for example. It looks pretty old."

Her fingers stole upwards and curled protectively around the signet ring. "It was my mother's," she murmured. "It's all I really have of her, you know? I don't remember much about her-she left me in New York when I was four. But the nuns are pretty sure she died; I apparently told them that she was sick when she left me."

Nurikia's smile fled and she sat up slowly. "I'm sorry, Himmemiya-san," she murmured. "That's pretty awful. Forget I asked."

Sari shook her head and swiped a quick hand across her eyes. "Don't be. I used to get real upset about it when I was a kid. Adam, this guy at the orphanage with me, he would take care of me and hold me until I stopped crying about it when I was little. But I got older and I guess one day it all sort of sunk in. Nothing is going to change my past or what happened to my mother. I'm never going to really know, so I shouldn't bother dwelling on it, you know?"

"Right," Nurikia murmured as her fingers combed through the thick grass at their feet. She plucked a small dandelion from near her left foot and began shredding its stem. "Well, I'm still sorry. That was lousy of me to ask like that."

Shrugging, Sari took in a deep breath. "Don't worry about it. I never do."

The two girls sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes when Sari gasped and jumped up. "Class! Shit, look at the time! I'm going to be late!"

Nurikia tilted her head back and didn't move another inch. "So skip."

Startled at the suggestion, Sari dropped her bento box. "Skip? I can't skip."

"Why not? It's easy enough to do. You just don't go to class."

Scrambling to pick up her papers and the disjointed sections of her box, Sari paused long enough to glare at Nurikia in a half-bemused, half-irritated manner. "It's not that simple. What if we have a test?"

"I'll write you a note," the girl yawned, laying back down and holding a hand up to shade her eyes from the brilliant afternoon sun.

"You are insane," Sari laughed as she finished gathering her things. "I think sensei would notice if a student cribbed a note for me."

"It wouldn't be cribbing. I'm a member of the Student Council. If he wants proof, just have him contact me and I'll explain I was discussing Council business with you. He has to understand. As a responsible student of this academy, if a Council member needs your expertise to get a project done, it's only right that you help them. It's for the good of the school, you see."

Sari thumped to the ground and just stared at the scarlet-haired girl beside her. "What, did you plan this or something?"

Nurikia yawned again and turned on her side. She regarded Sari with eyes of the darkest green and smiled mischievously. "Something like that. So are you going to be a goody-goody or are you going to skip with me?"

Chaucer.

Sunlight.

Chaucer.

Conversation.

Chaucer.

Friend?

"I'll stay."

"I thought you might."

In another part of campus a small dilapidated building sat basking in the bright afternoon sunlight. All the windows were boarded up save for the two stained glass arches flanking the front door. These had been shattered beyond all recognition. Delicate flecks of glass littered the foyer and dainty dancing rainbows shimmered in the air. Dust and cobwebs were so thick that even the slightest breath would send you into a hacking coughing fit.

If you were alive, that is.

"It's bright today."

"Yes."

The first figure reached out a hand and cupped a shivering rainbow in his palm. It was all an illusion, of course, one couldn't really hold a rainbow, but it was a nice one nevertheless. It made him feel more real, more human. "You're looking more solid today."

The second figure glanced impassively down at his blue shirt and black trousers. "I suppose so. Our progress has become infinitesimal as of late, however. I don't see the point in discussing the particulars of this latest failure."

Ruka shook his head. "We didn't intend to gain substance, Nemuro. I don't see how the final few steps back into the flesh being denied us constitutes a failure. Maybe it was a fluke."

Mikage, predictably, did not reply. He simply leaned, or rather, appeared to lean, against the far wall as he observed the tangible and intangible inhabitants of the room with his coolly sardonic gaze.

Soon after her "permanent" arrival Nanami had claimed a small corner for her very own. There she usually spent her time, pressing her slender fingers against the cracks in the walls as if, like a Japanese Nancy Drew, she could escape the prison of Ohtori's making by simply finding the right combination of crevices and crannies. She didn't even bother talking any more. She just eternally searched the walls and occasionally stopped long enough to stare moodily out the window at the students before returning to her walls.

Shiori had, quite simply, gone stark raving mad. Like Nanami, she'd staked out a small portion of the basement for herself and remained there a good deal of the time. She would rock back and forth or mimic opening and shutting something over and over and over again. Every time she performed this somehow obscene act, she would look at first surprised, then disgruntled, then downright disgusted. Her features would draw inward and her eyes would narrow dangerously. Her teeth would bare themselves in a sickeningly ghoulish grin. "I have her secret!" she announced, and Ruka, much to his disgust, for the first time realized of whom she was referring to. He turned his face away and tried not to think about Juri. It was a difficult task.

But the worst was perhaps Saionji.

None of them were certain exactly when he appeared-he was just there one day. Unlike Nanami and Shiori, both who had been there so long that their minds had stretched their existence all out of proportion, Saionji knew exactly where he was and what had happened to him. He just didn't care about it enough to tell them.

"Kanae is safe," was all he would say to Ruka's gentle probing. "Our baby is safe."

And that, for the ex-Vice President, was that.