To be nobody but yourself,

in a world which is doing its best, night and day,

to make you everybody else,

means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight;

and never stop fighting.

E.E. Cummings

Chapter Nine

"We gather here today, not to mourn, but to celebrate the life so quickly, so valiantly, cut short."

Once more the sun beat down without mercy, drenching the assembled group in their own sweat…and their tears. Once more Sari found herself at the front of too many strangers, watching a coffin being slowly lowered into the earth open at her feet. Once more two friends held her up, but these were not the comforting fingers of Betty or Alex. These fingers were like marble on her elbows; cool, hard, impersonal.

Controlling.

Repressing a shudder, Sari kept her eyes trained tightly on a small pebble embedded in the grass by the open grave. It pointed up, sharply, as if defying the world to knock it free from humble Mother Earth. Solid. Strong. Permanent. Unlike life.

It had happened so quickly, she thought to herself as the sermon droned on. So quickly. One moment she was floundering in water over her head, the next strong arms supported her, buoyed her up. For one brief instant she saw a flash of white hair, dark skin, an impersonal dot of pigmentation high on the forehead…the pungent scent of roses invaded her nose, cloying and ripe; the next she was spewing fluid from water-logged lungs and the man who struggled to save her was a normal man, one that she knew and loved.

His familiar voice whispered, comforting, in her ear. "Sari, hang in there."

And so she had. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face into the smooth neck of her rescuer, trusting him to save her, to get them both safely to land. Smooth, strong strokes of his muscles playing beneath her hands assured her without further words that they would be safe, that soon she would be curled on the beach. Nurikia would wrap her in a towel, Makoto would perhaps be worried, and her rescuer would hold her in his arms as he had before…comforting her without words. He never had been much for words.

But they were too far out. The waves had carried her an impossible distance, she had realized. Even floating as she was, letting him guide them both, she could feel him begin to tire though he hid it well. The storm raged. There would be no chance of reaching the beach. It was with an eerie sense of disquiet she understood he was no longer trying to reach the beach, but rather just keep them afloat in the turbulent waters.

And then…

Sari choked on a sob and felt the fingers around her upper arm tighten momentarily. Their message was clear: she was not to make a scene, or else. So rapidly had things gone from bad to worse. Was it only a week ago that they had gone to the beach? That she had childishly dreamed of speaking with Ohtori Akio and thought with longing on the mother she barely remembered?

A solitary tear slipped down her face as she recalled those last moments with him. At the ocean's whim they were cast toward an unfamiliar beach South of the picnickers. High, rocky grottos and cliffs were their only escape from the unforgiving waters. He managed to get them to an enclave of sorts, managed to force Sari's tired fingers to grip the rough surface of the stone, managed to urge her above the angry waves. But in doing so…

"We must not think on Miki's fall back into the ocean with anger, my children," said the minister. "We must think of his fall as that of the angels dropping down to Earth, and their return to Heaven above. He was a gifted man, a loving brother and son, a scholar of the highest order. He was merely sent back to Heaven where he was needed for his true purpose. In saving the life of one, he gave himself to God and showed us all where the true path of humility lies."

Hypocritical old bastard, Sari thought angrily in English. You never even met him! Miki wasn't even Christian! As if sensing her disquiet, the fingers at her elbow tightened once more, warningly. She calmed quickly, though her expression barely faltered. She mustn't make a scene.

Her slight scowl went not unnoticed. A slender woman with hair only a slightly darker hue than Miki's nodded as if hearing Sari's thoughts. Kozue had chosen this quick, impersonal funeral for her brother's colleagues and companions almost as a final way to spite the brother she loved. Only she would be able to say goodbye to Miki properly, something she relished and enjoyed. Miki would see her face alone in the afterlife. But, as she had learned all too well from Juri, appearances needed to be met. Thus, she had organized this farce of a funeral. Her only disappointment was that of the Council and friends Miki had made during his first time at Ohtori only Touga and that toady of Nanami's attended this mockery with her. Miki's beloved Juri had been hospitalized two weeks ago, the night after her confession to Adam. She was unable to attend Miki's burial and Adam was not about to leave his mother to attend to a man he'd never met. Kozue didn't blame him. She hadn't wanted to come either, preferring to stay in the quiet sanctity of the hospital room. But she did this for the memory of what Miki had been once, before that girl with the purple hair had come into his life, shattering what remaining ties bonding Kozue and Miki together. However, Kozue had come. Taking stock of the situation, she darted her gaze here and there, taking the mourners reactions into consideration. Sari, she took special note of.

The girl was something different indeed. Slender, quiet… The last time Kozue had been able to see her Sari had been a child on the edge of womanhood. All that was needed was a tragedy; some dark past indiscretion to lend her face the hard edge of maturity she needed to blossom into true beauty.

Miki's death had apparently done the job admirably. Kozue cared little that this was the girl whose foolish actions had stolen her brother from this world. Miki had always yearned to be the hero, just once, and his wish had been granted. Shame that it was a tragic hero, but beggars can't be choosers. She wished Sari no ill will; she would miss Miki, but at last the mantle of being the bad twin was lifted. She no longer had to protect Miki from others like herself by being worse than he ever could imagine. Miki had protected himself by dying gallantly. How very typical of him. However, ignoring the droning minister, Kozue concentrated on Sari. This girl was his prodigy? This young beauty was supposed to hold within her fragile hands all the power Miki had wielded? It was hard, no, impossible, to believe. Just looking at the pair of students supporting Sari was proof enough of that. She would sag to the earth without their hands upon her arms.

And for that, Kozue would not forgive her. Sari could have killed Miki a million times with her own hands; she could have bloodied him personally, shot him, poisoned him, and Kozue would have forgiven her… no, even understood her actions. There had been times enough she would have rather ripped out his throat herself with her own sharp, white teeth than let another have him, touch him. But to demean Miki's memory, his skill, with such tender little hands. No, that she could not ever forgive. She told Sari this with her eyes, with her sneer. Sari did not look up to receive her message, but the crimson-haired girl beside her did.

Nurikia sneered right back. She could flaunt her power too; and she truly DID hold power now, though Kozue might never know it, know of the true danger she now flirted with. Though she looked nothing like Miki, or his darker half, his twin, Nurikia was very aware of her noble lineage within the Council. The Ends of Innocence had told them everything about their heritage, their powers. Her acceptance of her predestined Role within the Council was only the first step. She, Nurikia, was the Blue Key, the Sapphire Rose; just as Miki had been, just as Kozue had been the darker shadow to his light. Kozue knew nothing of the New Council or their quest. She knew only that Sari was the slip of a girl of whom Miki had been so proud… and that she was humbled somehow, lessened. Controlled. Corrupted. And Kozue was displeased. It showed in her eyes, in her posture.

Nurikia, on the other hand, was thrilled. Soon. Very soon the darker half would fall as well and she would take her proper place as the Secretary to the Ends of Innocence. Total power would be hers, not just this little taste she'd been given at Miki's demise. Power… and strength. Her fingers tightened once more on Sari's smooth skin, this time a little harder than before. She felt the girl shift uncomfortably beside her, but she didn't care. It hadn't been hard to lure Sari far out into the waves. It hadn't been hard to follow the orders in the letters, to befriend the lonely girl, to lead her into danger… then to send a bright shining hero after her. It was only fitting that the 'hero' in question was one that the Ends of Innocence proclaimed to be Nurikia's own predecessor, the key to the power held just out of Nurikia's grasp. Hiding her face carefully with the fall of her bright hair, Nurikia smiled. One by one, as proclaimed in the letters, the Old Council fell like Angels to Earth…in Miki's case, literally.

Soon.

The hospital room was dark when Adam returned from his quick run to the apartment. A month had passed and Juri grew worse by the day. It was as if, in telling him of her malady, she had given the disease leave to corrupt her body even further.

It was as if she'd given up the fight.

"Mom?" he whispered, sneaking into the bleach-scented room. He had brought flowers in earlier, white and pink roses, but at the sight of them Juri had gone into some sort of seizure. The doctors had ordered him out; a nurse had requested he rid himself of the blossoms. Nodding, Adam had thrown them in the trash without a second thought. But in the eons between the 'all-clear' to return to her room and the incident he had nearly been sick.

It was when he was pacing by the window and happened to glance out that it happened. He saw a young girl, obviously a streetwalker, get into a car. Such a simple act, but it vibrated in his soul. When was the last time he saw such a thing so openly displayed?

How strange what the mind recalls after so many years.

The last time he's been in a hospital…

Her voice drifted back to him, across the years: "You could call me a fairy godmother to a princess…Sari and I are joined in a way you don't understand yet. But you will."

Anshi.

How long had it been since he'd thought of the enigmatic woman? The woman he'd first laid eyes on as she swept into the shop in New York with Yamika by her side? Long purple hair, skin a flawless hue of caramel…she'd always smelled faintly of a flower sachet, the scent of… roses. Yes. Roses. The sweet smell had seemed embedded in her skin itself; it had flowed around her like some sort of elixir.

Adam smiled to himself. He had never seen her again after that day, after their conversation in the hospital waiting room. She'd just vanished from his world and from Sari's. But somehow, someway, she'd kept her promise to him. She'd gotten both he and Sari off the streets of New York. But at what cost? Five years had passed since then and he hadn't seen Sari once in all that time.

He supposed she must have grown up to be a beautiful woman, but he didn't know. All he knew was that Anshi had somehow given him Juri; he wasn't sure how he knew that, especially now, but he did. Anshi…what an amazing woman. It clicked then, in his heart. Juri may have known his mother in passing, but upon questioning she never spoke more of it. But Adam remembered sitting with her, looking over the box of faded pictures from Ohtori… from Juri's Sophomore year. Two girls had seemed so much clearer than anyone else in the picture…and the girl who seemed more familiar…could have been a mirror image of Anshi. Adam blinked and nodded. When he returned home that night he would pull out that box and make certain it was indeed the woman from his past. But if it were… it explained so much. Truly, then, she would have been a godmother of sorts. She would have reached into some magical bag and pulled out the thing he wanted most in the world… a mother. A gift to Juri, a lonely girl from her past. Her gift to him for being a stubborn and rash kid, for knowing a little girl with bright blue eyes and skin the color of caramel whose mahogany-pinkish hair never stayed properly in braids.

Anshi could probably save Juri, he mused sadly to himself. But would she? Would she even care? Somehow, someway, he thought she might. She had turned out to be a fairy godmother after all… not the weird witch he'd once supposed her to be.

But that had been hours ago; now, sitting beside Juri's bedside, Adam quelled his unease and fear. Juri mustn't see him sad or unhappy. She had to see him loving her until the very end.

And the end was near; he could taste it in the air.

"She get any better?"

Adam jerked up and looked in the dim doorway. "Shhh," he told Kozue, whose clothing looked impeccable despite what must have been a very long train ride crushed against the nameless multitude. "She's sleeping."

"Which is a big fat no then," replied Kozue coolly, settling down beside him on the floor. She reached out one sharp-tipped hand and took Juri's emaciated fingers in her own. "I've only been gone two weeks, Adam. Why didn't you make her eat more?"

"I can't force feed her," he groused at her. "They've got her on IV now." He paused, and then sighed. "How was the funeral?"

"Boring," Kozue said, tracing the blue veins so close to the surface of Juri's hand. "But I saw that Sari kid while I was there. His protégé. Young, but she's pretty enough I suppose."

Adam blinked. The Juri's friend Miki… Kozue's brother Miki… had been THAT Miki? Sari's Miki? Why hadn't he ever made the connection before? He'd seen enough pictures of…

The machines in the room began beeping frantically. Adam and Kozue jerked up. Adam stumbled to the doorway and skidded out into the hall. "NURSE!"

Behind him, he could hear the harsh inhale and raspy exhale that was Juri fighting for life… for breath. Kozue was silent.

The doctors bustled in, the nurses and staff and white coats and sharp needles and humming electrical equipment and hands grabbed him, pulling him, forcing him out of the room and there was a low, long wail, and this wasn't the way it was in the movies with goodbye parting words and promises to be good and tears and soft, gentle sorrow or…

Kozue slapped him.

Hard.

Adam gasped roughly and slapped her back.

Just as hard.

But he had come to himself. The red mark on Kozue's cheek…

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She shook her head. "Forget about it. Just don't fall apart on me, kid. We're going to need one another pretty soon."

They stood there, in silence, and waited for it to end.

She came in fighting, unlike the others.

Mikage was almost startled at how brilliantly she was given to them, like some goddess of the sea or wood. One moment the dimly lit cavern of a tomb was filled with the faint sounds of the various dead gone insane, the next a fiery light thrust itself from the open window and exploded with golden flame into the form of a woman.

A woman with thick, luscious curls cascading down her back.

"Juri…" whispered the man at his side in mingled awe and joy. His blue eyes took her in, his expression softened.

"You've come to us," he murmured, stepping forward to foolishly offer her his hand.

With the same icy demeanor Mikage had so respected in her life, Juri stepped past him and strode purposefully toward the pink-haired man. "Why am I here?"

It was not a question. It was a demand.

Mikage shrugged easily. "You're connected to this damned campus, just like the rest of us," he offered with clinical precision. "Welcome to Hell."

She slapped him. It wasn't personal, and he didn't take it so, though all the others in the cavern stilled. Miki, their previous arrival, winced at the flat sound of her hand striking Mikage's almost-flesh.

It was that action, however, that brought her corporeal form to Mikage's attention. His eyes widened and his hand snaked out, catching her wrist. "You have form!" he stated, not nearly as icily as normal. "You have substance even after death."

Ruka stepped forward and brushed slender fingers through her curls as a test. They shifted with his touch. He looked to Miki and beckoned for the young apparition to join them. Surely enough, he too was blessed with a sort of translucent flesh. They hadn't thought to test the new arrival, just allowed him to scout out a corner per usual. It was getting rather crowded in there and neither Ruka nor Mikage wanted the bother of explaining the afterlife to the slightly confused young ghost. So they left it be. But all of them were apparently reaching some critical point; even those newly brought, who should have had to suffer the torments of pure dementia and invisibility for years as he and Mikage had were not even given that option anymore. They came as he and Mikage were… almost flesh.

It was vaguely disturbing.

"Send me back," Juri demanded, still ignoring them all, including Miki. "I need to go back for Adam."

Shiori screeched in the background; Juri flinched slightly, but held her ground. "Send me back."

"If only I could," Mikage said, "don't you think that I would be back as well? Or Ruka? Or Nanami?"

Juri stiffened at Nanami's name. She took in the wisp of a girl and her lips tightened. "What is going on?"

"Trapped," Ruka said, taking care not to move too close to his lost love. "Bound by our actions to forever exist until the walls… all the walls… come crumbling down. At least, that's what Ohtori thinks."

Her eyes narrowed. "Ohtori Akio is here as well? What of Himmemiya Anshi?"

"She's dead," Nanami said, gaining sanity for the first time in a very long while, "but she didn't join us. Tenjou… Utena… she…"

"She freed her," Miki murmured. "But she only partially freed us before whatever she battled in the Arena drove her away. So we seem to be… stuck. Rather like a cork in a bottle to be honest. Holding the remaining magic of the Academy together."

Typical. How typical.

Juri grimaced, then seemed to retain her icy demeanor, her cool collected calm. She eased herself to the floor and looked around with faded interest at their dank and rather dismal surroundings. So what now?

"We wait," Ruka murmured as if he'd heard her. "We wait."

"Until when?" she couldn't help asking in a voice Adam never would have recognized. A voice tinged with uncertainty and fear.

"Until judgment calls," Mikage broke in from across the room where he'd settled once more under the thin beam of sunlight filtering down on the dead, blackened husk of a rose. "Or until this Academy is dust in the wind. Whichever comes first. Either would be a miracle."

Juri's head lifted at the words and a single iridescent tear glimmered on the edge of her lashes. "I don't believe in…"

"Yes you do," broke in Saionji, appearing as if from the ground itself. "We all do. We have to. Because that's what it's gonna take to free us. So believe, Juri-san. Believe."