JAQUEMART
                              by
                         Alan Harnum

Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito, 
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.

This copy of the story is from my centralized fanfiction archive
at http://www.thekeep.org/~harnums/fanfic.  I can be reached by
e-mail at harnums@thekeep.org

V.  The Same River

     i. le matin
     
* * *     

Morning.  The curtains were drawn open, so sunlight spread across
the room like a golden fan and warmed his bare shoulders as he
lay in bed.  That touch, gentler than any lover's, stirred him 
awake, and he opened his eyes.

     She was watching him, lying nude atop the covers, hands 
folded on the pillow, head upon her hands, unblinking.  He woke 
up a lot to the sight, but hadn't yet grown tired of it, and 
didn't think he ever would.

     "Good morning, Miki-chan," she said.  She brushed her hand
against his cheek, sunlight-gentle.  "Tears.  You cried in your
sleep again.  Did you have another dream that made you weep?"

     "I guess I must have," he said softly, reaching out to brush
her cheek in turn.  "But I don't remember anything.  Funny.  They
usually don't come when you're here."

     Sheets rustled and whispered as she slid herself atop him
with the covers still between them, and kissed him lingeringly on
the lips.  "Do you need to be comforted?" she asked coquettishly.

     "Mmm."  He looked at the clock.  "I have to get ready to go
soon.  So do you, for that matter."     
     
     "We have time," she whispered, kissing him again.  He could
feel the heat of her body through the covers, and his own body
was powerless not to respond.  "Soon enough, we'll have all the
time in the world."
     
     "Yes," he whispered in reply, reaching up and tracing one
finger down her neck vertebrae (one, two, three...) as his other
hand swept the covers aside, "all the time in the world."
     
* * *

Nanami, of course, had insisted on driving again.  Not that 
Arisugawa Juri especially cared.  Let Nanami think control of the
rental car was some kind of power position to be coveted--Juri 
knew perfectly well that it wasn't, and was therefore content to 
let Nanami drive, as it kept her happy.  In addition, having to
concentrate on the road undoubtedly decreased at least somewhat
the amount of meaningless chatter that Nanami would attempt to
engage in.

     They'd left the hotel immediately after breakfast, bidding 
Utena a brief farewell before setting off along the wintered 
roads that would lead them back to Ohtori Academy.  The plan was
to park some distance from the campus and walk in at different
times--she and Shiori first, then Nanami an hour later--so that
their simultaneous presence on the campus couldn't be so easily
connected.
     
     Next to her in the back seat, Shiori fidgeted, scowled, 
stared out the window, adjusted the strap of her seatbelt a 
half-dozen times, requested that Nanami change the radio station
twice, complained that it was too cold in the car (and then, when
the heat was turned up, that it was too hot)--all within the 
first ten minutes of the drive.  She, of course, took Nanami's
driving privileges as a grave personal insult.  Of course, she
hadn't said anything or asked if she could drive this time, or on
the way back.  Probably best that she hadn't, since she and 
Nanami already were on bad terms.  But Juri knew it was going to
sit and fester.

     Somehow, she'd arrange things so that Shiori got to drive
back.  Ask it as a personal favour from Nanami, if she had to.
Shiori was already teetering on the edge, and she didn't need any
more little pushes.

     Shiori's left hand was resting, palm down, on the middle 
seat between them.  It would take merely a brief motion to reach
out and touch it for a moment; Nanami, intent on driving, 
probably wouldn't even notice.  

     Juri didn't move.  She closed her eyes and thought back to
the roof, after Utena had left.  

     *"I don't know what more you want me to say to prove it to
you.  How long have we been together now?  Over five years.  What
kind of person do you think I am, Shiori?  I'm not just going to
toss you aside.  Why can't you believe that?"*

     *Her hand against Shiori's cheek.  Tears, crystallizing, 
ice-cold, against her fingers.  "I see how you look at her."*

     *"I'm not going to leave you.  You know that, Shiori; just
let yourself believe it."*

     *"You don't find her attractive, then?"*
     
     *"Did I say that?  Of course I find her attractive."*
     
     *The wrong thing to say.  The honest thing.  Shiori stands.
Edge of the roof, looking over.  "More attractive than me?"*

     *"I didn't say that, either."*
     
     In hindsight, should she have lied?  Avoided the question?
Hadn't that been what Shiori wanted?  To be lied to, to be told
that everything was still the same, that there was only one
person Juri had ever wanted, would ever want, and it was her?

     Lies.  You couldn't build anything solid or good upon them,
or upon hiding your feelings.  It was so hard now, though,
harder than it had been even at the beginning.

     Shiori was better than she believed herself to be.  Juri
knew that, had seen her walk the path to becoming that person for
years now.  And now had seen her turn back at the return of the
truth: the Black Roses, Ruka, a new locket with a new photo.

     Let the truth be like an ill-tasting medicine, for once, 
uncomfortable but ultimately healing.  Because she knew well
enough how the truth could be a fire that burned you down to your
barest foundations.

     The music on the radio was a strident French chanson:
     
     o/` L'homme armé doit-on douter.
     o/` On a fait partout crier
     o/` Que chacun se vienne armer
     o/` D'un haubergeon de fer.
     
     "The armed man should be doubted, yes," Juri murmured.  
Pleasing to see she still remembered her French; she hadn't taken
a class since high school.  

     "What are you talking about, Juri?" 
     
     She opened her eyes and looked at Shiori.  "The song on the
radio.  'The armed man should be doubted.  Everywhere it has been
decreed that everyone should arm himself with an iron coat of 
mail.'"

     Shiori smiled vaguely.  "I couldn't pick out more than a few
words, even though I was in the same French class with you for 
all those years.  You really are remarkable."

     "I still say we should have brought the swords," Nanami
muttered.  "Damn it, it's hard to drive with the sun so bright."

     "This is just a scouting mission," Juri said.  They were in
the city of Houou proper now; straining her eyes, Juri could see
the uppermost tip of Ohtori Academy's central tower, raised high
upon the horizon both by its height and by its location on a
hillside by the sea.  "Swords would make us conspicuous.  And we
can't just walk into the Chairman's office and run him through a
few times."

     "Why not?" Nanami asked, perhaps facetiously.
     
     "Numerous reasons," Juri replied.  "First of all, it's too
risky.  Secondly, we'd probably be seen by quite a few witnesses,
and I don't want to be sought for murder.  Thirdly, I think Utena
wants to be there when it happens."

     "I know, I know, I know," Nanami said, sighing.  "I was
being sarcastic, you know."

     "I know."  Juri smiled and closed her eyes again.
     
     "It's a little strange, when you think about it," Shiori
said softly.  "We all talk so casually about it, about killing
him."  Her voice hardened.  "Not that I don't want to do it, but
it's still a little strange."

     "It's justice," Nanami replied fiercely.  "Look at what he
did to all of us.  Like we were just his little toys.  Every pain
any of us ever felt at Ohtori, he was behind it, laughing."  The
car sped up a little, the chanson still playing on the radio, the
same stanza repeating again and again with subtle variations in
pitch and rhythm.  "And do you think we were the first?  I don't.
How many other lives do you think he's ruined?"

     "Him and Himemiya," Juri interjected in a quiet voice, eyes
still closed.  The sun shining through the window pleasantly 
warmed her face and throat as she leaned her head back.  "I think
Utena downplayed Himemiya's role when she told us her story, and 
I get the feeling that Himemiya played an essential part in a lot 
of what Akio did."

     "He was her older brother," Nanami said, as though that
explained everything, all the surreal, nightmarish things that
Utena had told them.  "What else was she supposed to do?"

     Juri said nothing.  To her relief, Shiori didn't either.
     
     o/` L'homme armé doit-on douter.
     o/` On a fait partout crier
     o/` Que chacun se vienne armer
     o/` D'un haubergeon de fer.
     
     "We're almost there," Shiori said.
     
     Nanami's voice was peevish in reply.  "I know."
     
     "I'm just saying."
     
     "Stop it," Juri murmured.  They did.
     
* * *

Somewhere inside (and Juri had realized this long ago), Shiori
was still a shy, quiet, mousy nine year-old whom the others made
fun of because her uniform was a little too loose (her mother had
been able--barely--to send her to Ohtori, but had to cut corners
where she could, and buying a uniform that Shiori could grow into
was only one).  Until one day (a month, maybe two months after 
Shiori had come to Ohtori--it was so long ago) another nine year-
old (tall, quiet but not shy) had simply put a stop to it.

     And, even back then, if Arisugawa Juri put a stop to 
something, it didn't continue.  How much of that girl was left
inside the woman now?  Juri couldn't say.

     Three elementary students (a boy and two girls, she noted 
absently), all bundled up warmly against the cold, swept by her 
and Shiori as the two of them walked slowly up the path to
Ohtori's gates.  The children laughed and threw loose balls of
fresh-fallen powder snow at each other as they ran, taking steps
equally upon the narrow path cleared through the snow and the
packed walls built up on the sides.

     "Playing hookey, do you think?" Shiori asked quietly.  
"First period would have started nearly an hour ago."

     "Give them the benefit of the doubt," Juri murmured in
reply, smiling gently as she watched them.  "Maybe they all have
the first period free."
     
     "Did we skip much class at that age?"  
     
     "A little.  I always got us off the hook."
     
     "How?"
     
     "Looking the teachers in the eye, mostly.  They hated it
when you did that."
     
     Shiori laughed.  "I remember that now.  You and me and--"  
She stopped.  One of the things they didn't talk about.

     "You can say his name, Shiori."
     
     "I'd rather not think about him," Shiori said after a
moment.  The trees around the path were nakedly desolate.  She
reached out, and fingers sheathed in warm woollen gloves brushed
momentarily against the cold bare back of Juri's hand.  "I'm
sorry, Juri."

     "Don't apologize."  An electric thrill lit up her spine at
the touch.  They hardly even ever held hands in public.  "You
know he wasn't anything more than a friend to me."  And he never
would have been any more than that, either, she added silently.

     "It isn't what he was to you."  Shiori sighed.  "It's about
why I did it.  I only did it to hurt you--"

     "Shiori," Juri said firmly, "how long ago was that?  Ten
years, now?  A little longer?  We weren't much more than 
children.  And children do stupid, cruel things to each other.  
So forget about it."

     "I wasn't a child with Ruka," Shiori said darkly, "or with
the black roses."  They turned left, and began the final approach
up the slope to Ohtori's front gates.  The three children had
long ago disappeared through them during their slow walk.

     "Seven years," Juri murmured.  She raised her hand and
lightly stroked Shiori's back, between her shoulder blades, a
gesture that could be interpreted by anyone watching as entirely
innocent--brushing snow away, for example.  "All in the past.  
Let it go."

     Shiori's head hung low, staring at the snow-flecked road
beneath their feet.  "I wish so badly we weren't here."

     "So do I," Juri agreed.  "But here we are."
     
     They passed beneath Ohtori's rose-crested archway side by
side.  Two different people, Juri thought firmly--we are not who
we were ten years ago or seven years ago, or even last week.  No
more than Utena is a little girl seeking her prince, or Nanami is
a little girl seeking the solace of her brother's arms.

     She smiled a little grimly as they left the shadow cast by
the gates, and stood again upon Ohtori's grounds, not walking any
more, looking about as though trying to take it all in at once.
Impossible, of course, and not really necessary.  Little had 
changed.  The forest still rose at the northern end of the campus
(evergreen trees, dusted with snow), the tower still loomed at 
the centre.  All was clean and calm and bright: white buildings
with pale blue roofs swept clear of snow, neat paths cleared
everywhere to minimize the inconvenience to students from the
weather... all the graceful symmetry she remembered.  Hard to
believe that such a dark heart beat the centre of it all.

     "So what do we do first?" Shiori asked.
     
     Juri looked at her watch.  Soon, the first period would end,
and the grounds would fill with students rushing to their next
class.  In the summer, students would be lounging on the grass, 
playing a quick game of pick-up basketball on the courts, a few 
hands of poker beneath the shading branches of a tree... winter 
precluded that.  "First things first, we sign in at the school 
office, as any responsible visitor from off-campus would do."  

     "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
     
     Juri shrugged.  "Possibly not.  A better idea than not
signing in, however.  Ohtori's security can be pretty tight where
outsiders are--"

     A too-familiar voice interrupted her, a high, sharp shout 
that carried like a whipcrack.  "Hold it!  You two, stop right 
there!  What are you doing here?  Halt!"

     Shiori paled.  "Oh, God," she half-moaned.  "Don't tell me
she's still working here.  Hasn't she retired?  She has to be at
least fifty by now."

     Juri watched the spare figure in the hideous fake fur coat 
advancing with military precision towards them.  Even at this
distance (a good fifty feet), she could see the sun glinting off
the rhinestone-studded frames of the sunglasses, and the riding
crop clenched tightly in the right fist.

     "If you're reporters, you're not authorized to be here!" the
figure called.  "This is private property!  You'll have to call 
the office of the Chairman and arrange for an interview, _if_
he'll grant you one.  Which he won't."

     "We're not reporters," Juri called.  "Bonjour, Madame 
Lamer."

     The aggressive stride stopped abruptly.  "...Arisugawa
Juri?  Is that you?"

     Juri walked towards the teacher, subtly beckoning Shiori to
follow with her hand.  "Oui, madame.  How did you know it was 
me?"

     "You were the _only_ one who ever pronounced my name right."
Mme Lamer apparently thought this was a cardinal virtue.  "Not
'lay mur', but 'la mer': 'the sea'."  She beamed and reached out
to clasp Juri's shoulders in a rather awkward half-embrace, given 
her need to keep a hold on her ubiquitous crop.  "It's so lovely
to see you again, my dear.  Bonjour, Takatsuki," she said 
shortly, then turned all her attention back to Juri.

     "Bonjour, madame."  Shiori smiled a bit queasily, and Juri
winced inwardly.  Shiori had coined the other mispronunciation of
the teacher's name, one considerably more amusing and far more 
vulgar.

     "How have you been, Juri?  You're so grown up now."  The
teacher released Juri's shoulders, stepped back, and lowered her
sunglasses.  Small rabbity eyes blinked near-sightedly as she
looked Juri up and down.  "Where are you going to school now?"

     Lamer Tobuko, Juri thought, mentally pulling up a rather
dusty file.  French father, Japanese mother.  Splits her time
between the Moderns department and the Guidance Office.  Early
forties (late forties by now, she revised).  Annoying but
harmless.

     She spent a little over two minutes making chatter with the
teacher.  Shiori was silent throughout.  Finally, she politely
excused herself and Shiori by saying they really should go and
sign in at the office as visitors.

     "Ahh, yes, you should, you should," Mme Lamer agreed,
nodding vigorously and gesturing vaguely in the direction of the
attendance office (located, like all the other administrative 
offices, in the base of the central tower) with her crop.  "Make
sure you tell them you're a former student.  They're being very 
careful lately about who they let onto the campus--all kinds of
reporters nosing around, you know, because of that horrible 
tragedy."  She sighed deeply.  "Trying to drag Ohtori's good name
through the mud...  So sad.  They were both such sweet boys.  How
it ever came to such a state between them..."  She paused and 
glanced at her watch.  "Anyway, I have business to attend to off-
campus; I was only here to pick up some documents I needed."

     "Madame, this conversation has been far too short," Juri
said quickly, before the teacher could move away.  "Could we
continue it at some other time?"

     "What?  Oh, certainly, certainly, I'd be delighted," Mme
Lamer replied after a moment, clearly surprised.  "Why don't you
come to my house for tea after the school hours are over?  Say,
four-ish."  She extracted pen and paper from her faux-leather 
purse and scribbled her address.  "You are welcome to attend as 
well, Takatsuki, if you so wish," she added perfunctorily.  
"Au revoir."

     "Au revoir, madame," Juri and Shiori said in unison.  The 
teacher walked out the front gates, humming to herself and
lightly beating time against her hip with the crop.

     "That," Shiori muttered, after Mme Lamer was out of
earshot, "was excruciating.  We can skip the tea, right?"

     "You can if you want," Juri offered.  "I'm going."
     
     "You're going to tea with La Merde?"  Shiori blinked and
put her hand to Juri's forehead.  "Funny, you don't seem to have
a fever..."

     Juri playfully batted her hand away, laughing softly.  "I'm
not going for the pleasure of her company.  You know how much of
a busybody she is, and how much she likes to talk.  We need to 
know what's going on--she's the perfect one to tell us.  Still 
want to skip it?"

     "Hmm.  Talk to me later," Shiori said sourly.  "If the
choice is tea with La Merde or riding back to the hotel alone
with Princess Nanami, it's a toss-up."

     "If you do come, don't slip up and call her that name," Juri
advised.  "Remember when that girl who sat in the front row did
that?"  She cupped her chin thoughtfully.  "I think she had
pigtails... or always wore a ribbon... or was it the one with the
ponytail?"  Eventually, she simply shrugged.  "I don't remember.
It doesn't matter.  Let's go sign in."

     As Mme Lamer had told them, the office was very careful
about verifying who they were, to the point of bringing up their
records and asking for identification.  The atmosphere of near-
paranoia was so high that Juri feared for a time that they were
going to be denied permission to be on the grounds; they didn't
really have any particular right to be there, after all.  Once it
was clear that they were alumni and not reporters, though, they
were given a polite but harried welcome by the head secretary,
and told they had the full run of the campus.  Ohtori, Juri
recalled, depended heavily upon contributions by the alumni to
its endowment fund to keep its facilities maintained.

     They went back out from the office into the cathedral-like
rotunda of the central tower.  First period had just let out, and
students and staff hurried singly or in groups--in and out of 
archways, up and down stairs, to and fro across the marble 
floor--to their next class.  Juri and Shiori paused by the 
central fountain to orient themselves.  The air was full of beams
of sunlight falling through the clear dome overhead, and the
gentle burble of the fountain's waters.

     "So where to now?" Shiori asked.
     
     Juri shrugged.  "Look around, I suppose.  There must be
plenty of teachers I knew still working here.  I'm sure we'll run
into someone we can--"

     "Juri-sempai?  I don't believe it!"
     
     She turned at the voice in time to see Kaoru Miki break away
from the group of girls he'd been walking with (junior high 
girls, she guessed, and he hadn't been walking with them so much
as being followed by them) and hurry up to her with a broad smile
on his face.  Nothing to do but stare.  We forgot, she thought.
Up on the roof, she and Utena had agreed to ask Nanami if she 
knew where Miki was, but they'd forgotten... 

     "Miki-kun.  What a surprise," she said automatically.  He
looked exactly the same as she remembered him from the last time
she'd seen him in person.  When would that have been?  Her 
graduation--he'd been in the audience.  Slender, average height,
delicately, almost effeminately, handsome.  The silver-framed
glasses were the only really new addition, and looked good on 
him--they made him appear older.

     His smile somehow broadened.  "I feel like I should give you
a hug, but my hands are full right now."  A black leather satchel
in one hand, a thick sheaf of papers beneath the other arm.  
Careful, Arisugawa Juri, she thought vaguely.  What's he doing
here?  Snappily dressed in a dark blue suit--that was new as
well.

     She kept her caution beneath the surface, though, and 
clasped his shoulder warmly.  "You can give me a hug later," she
said softly.  It really was good to see him again, even under
these circumstances.  "Miki-kun, do you remember my friend 
Takatsuki Shiori?"

     Miki turned his gaze upon quiet Shiori.  "Of course I 
remember Shiori-sempai.  Hello."
     
     "Hello, Miki-kun," Shiori replied.
          
     "It's so nice to see both of you again.  What are you two 
doing here?"

     "I was going to ask you the same."
     
     "Well..."  Miki gestured broadly with his arms, as though
trying to encompass the entirety of the rotunda, of Ohtori, 
within them.  "I teach here now.  That's my excuse.  How about
you two?"

     "Visiting Shiori's mother," Juri replied automatically.  The  
cover story.  "Thought we'd drop in on the old alma mater."  She 
paused.  _Teaching_?  "Doesn't seem like it was the best time, 
though."

     Miki's smile faded.  "Yes.  Bad timing, unfortunately."
     
     "Miki-sensei!  Weren't you walking to class with us?"
     
     "I'll be there in a moment, girls," Miki called over his
shoulder.  "Listen, I have another class to teach right now, but
after that I have a free period and lunch.  My office is room 217
in Kanae Memorial Hall.  That's the new building on the north-
western edge of the campus.  Drop by, please--we've got so much 
to catch up on, so much to talk about."

     "Miki-sensei!  We'll be late!"
     
     "Coming, coming.  Goodbye, Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai."
     
     Then he was gone.
     
* * *

"_Teaching_?"

     "Juri, please, keep your voice down."
     
     They sat at a table in the corner of the indoor cafeteria of
the lower tower and sipped bad hot coffee bought from a vending
machine.  Three tables away, the closest group of Ohtori students
(high school) chatted while one of them played an intent game of 
solitaire.

     "Three years ago," Juri murmured, rubbing her forehead with
the back of her hand.  "That was the last time I ever heard from
him, you know."

     "Yes, I remember.  A postcard, right?"
     
     She nodded.  "Just out of the blue.  'Thought of you today 
and decided to drop you a line.  I hope you're doing well in
university.'  Things like that."

     "You had it on the fridge for a while, didn't you?"
     
     Juri nodded again.  "I think it's in one of my desk drawers
now."  She sighed.  "I should have written back to him, but...
what would I say?  'Doing fine.  Sorry I never paid any attention
to you after your sister died and you really needed someone, 
but...'"  Her hands were shaking, and she had to focus to still
them.  "I was so caught up with everything that was happening 
with you and me then..."

     "That's not true," Shiori said softly.  "You tried to talk
to him about it.  But he just didn't seem to want to talk to you.
You told me that."
     
     "You're right," Juri agreed grudgingly.  "But, still... I
mean, I didn't even know that Akio was the one driving when she
died.  Nanami knew that.  Miki and I were such good friends for 
about a year, and then..."

     "So?  People drift apart.  People change."
     
     "What do you think?" Juri asked, taking a deep breath to
steady herself.  All this emotional turmoil since Utena had
returned was making it hard to keep up her usual calm, and she
didn't like that at all.  "Is it just a coincidence?"

     "I don't know," Shiori admitted.  "I don't think we can take
the risk that it is.  We'll have to be careful with whatever we
say to him."

     "Agreed," Juri said.  She paused.  "If we restored his
memories--"

     "Not here," Shiori interjected.  "Not on the campus.  Akio
would feel it for sure; he might already know that we've got our
memories back, for that matter.  Who's to say he can't sense when
one of his mental blocks is broken?"

     "Not I," Juri replied in a low whisper.  "But we can't be 
sure that he _does_ know we've got our memories back either, so 
until we're certain one way or the other, we've got to play this
game as though he doesn't know."

     "Rather dangerous game," Shiori murmured.
     
     They were quiet for a moment.  The voices of the nearby
students were suddenly raised in a minor argument:     
     
     "Why are you making that move?  Better to put the Jack of
Diamonds on--"

     "Hey, hey, there's a reason it's called 'solitaire', you
know."

     "Just trying to help..."
     
     "Things are rapidly becoming more complicated than I like,"
Juri said finally, sipping her coffee and making a sour face at
its quality.  "I think we're going to have to proceed very
cautiously.  For Miki's sake, and for our own."

     Shiori nodded and glanced at her watch.  "Another half-hour
before Miki said we could come by his office..."

     "Room 217, Kanae Memorial Hall, north-western edge of 
campus..." Juri said musingly.  Shiori suddenly started as though
a jolt of electricity had run through her.  "Shiori, what?"

     "I wasn't really listening when Miki told you before where
his office was," Shiori murmured.  "North-western edge of 
campus... that's where Nemuro Memorial Hall was.  Where the black 
roses..."  Ashen-faced, she fell silent.

     "He must have finally torn it down and built a new building
on the site."  Juri frowned.  "I don't like this at all."

     "The memories don't entirely cohere, even though I have them
back," Shiori said softly, eyes half-closed.  "One day, Nemuro
Hall was there... I remember passing by it... then the next day,
it was just a ruin, and it had always _been_ a ruin, no one even
remembered it's name... but how could that happen?  If we have 
our memories back, all of them, how can a building just become a
ruin overnight?"

     "I don't know," Juri admitted.  "Even Utena doesn't know
what happened to Mikage after she defeated him.  She says when
she left with Anthy, he was still in the Duelling Arena..."

     "He's still out there."  A visible shudder ran over Shiori
like quick spider-legs.  "I know he is... him and his roses..."
She touched a hand to her breast and licked her lips.  "I 
wonder... that boy who was with him stabbed that black rose right
into my heart... are the thorns still there?  Could I--"

     "No," Juri said firmly.  She reached out and put her hand
over Shiori's hand still on the table.  "You couldn't.  Believe
in that.  Mikage isn't going to suddenly--"

     "Why, hello there!"
     
     They both started at the sudden voice and snapped their 
heads in the direction of the voice.  Nanami beamed down at them
with the too-happy expression that Juri knew meant she was
incredibly pleased with her own cleverness.

     "Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai, what an odd coincidence!"  She
pulled out a chair and sat down as they stared at her, mute and
silent.  "This is such a surprise!" she said, loud enough to make 
the nearby students look over to them.  Then she hunched her 
shoulders down and cupped one hand to the side of her mouth to 
whisper to Juri, "Find out anything useful yet?"

     "Nanami," Juri hissed in a low whisper.  "What was the plan
again?  You were supposed to arrive an _hour_ after we did--at
minimum.  Has it been an hour?  And you were supposed to avoid
contact with us unless absolutely necessary."

     "It's been almost forty minutes," Nanami replied.  "And I
was... well, okay, I was bored.  It was long enough."  She 
folded her arms and even pouted a little.  "Besides, I didn't
mean to run into you two... I just walked in here after signing
in at the office.  It was a coincidence.  How would it look to
anyone who knew us in our Ohtori days if I just ignored the two 
of you as though I didn't know you?"

     "Plausible," Shiori muttered.  "That was what you did when
we were at Ohtori."
     
     Juri almost thought she saw Nanami flinch.  "Okay, maybe I
did," she begrudged.  "But that was only because of what happened
with you and my br--"

     "Nanami, shut up," Juri whispered harshly, though too late 
to stop old wounds from shining anew in Shiori's eyes.  You 
playboy bastard, she thought vaguely--even after this long, you
can still hurt her.  "That's not important right now.  What 
you've just done is stupid and dangerous.  When we make a plan, 
we _stick_ to it.  We don't change it without consulting anyone
because we get _bored_."  She drew out "bored" as though it were
a long sword emerging from its sheath, and watched with a certain
perverse pleasure as Nanami flinched again at the tone.  "Don't 
ever do it again.  Or I'll do whatever I can to get you packed 
back to Tokyo where you can't jeopardize us any further."

     For a moment, it looked as though Nanami might snap back 
some reply, or start to whine.  Then her face became sober, and
she nodded slowly.  "Same old Juri-sempai," she murmured, almost
affectionately.  "You're right.  I'm sorry.  I didn't think it
would hurt to come a little early.  And it really was just a
coincidence that I came in here.  Honest."  She smiled 
hesitantly, looked back and forth from Juri to Shiori like a
nervous animal faced with two equal but different threats.  
"Friends again, Juri-san, Shiori-san?"

     Shiori humphed softly and looked away from Nanami.  Juri
just continued to stare at her.

     "I'm sorry," Nanami repeated forlornly.  "I really am."
     
     "Miki's here," Juri said quietly.
     
     Nanami blinked.  "What?  Don't be silly, Miki's not here."
     
     "He is," Juri retorted.  "He works here.  A teacher.  We met
him by the fountain in the rotunda."  She couldn't help but smile
as she remembered the crowd of female students walking with him.  
"He's still very popular with the girls, from all appearances."

     Nanami... blushed?  Juri couldn't be sure--the air outside
was cold, and there had already been a little redness in the 
younger woman's pale complexion when she entered.  Miki had been
the only male at Ohtori whom Nanami ever paid much attention to
beyond her brother.  Had something more been there?
     
     "Miki was so nice," Nanami murmured finally.  "I'm not
surprised that younger women have crushes on him, now that he's
a teacher.  How does he seem?"

     "The same," Juri answered, a bit wistfully.  It wasn't all
that surprising, even given Nanami's (former?) big-brother 
complex.  Miki had been the very best of them, in her opinion: 
for herself, an idealistic light to balance her own cynicism and
darkness.  "A little harried, maybe.  He seemed to have a lot on
his mind."

     "We're going to see him at his office in about half an
hour," Shiori said, finally turning her gaze back to Nanami.

     "Oh."  Nanami looked up at the ceiling.  "Probably best if
I don't come along, I suppose.  It would look suspicious."  She
scowled suddenly, eyes narrowing almost to slits.  "If Miki's a
teacher here, it's because Akio wants him to be."

     "I know," Juri replied softly.  "We'll be careful."  She
paused.  "You do want to see him again, don't you, Nanami?"     
     
     After a moment, Nanami nodded.  "Of course," she said.  
"Miki was my friend.  Of course I want to see him again.  What 
kind of person do you think I am?  It's only that I don't want to
see him with the two of you, you _know_ that would look 
suspicious..."

     "Yes," Juri agreed.  She looked sidewise at Nanami.  "Is
there any reason you're being so defensive about it?"

     "I'm not," Nanami replied firmly.
     
     "You are," Shiori said quietly.
     
     Nanami glared.  "I'm not."
     
     Shiori smirked.  "You are."
     
     "Stop it," Juri murmured.  They did.
     
* * *

"How nice.  He named a comet after her."

     "It just looks like another star to me," Shiori commented,
squinting her eyes at the framed photo behind the glass: a short
swathe of the black stellar void, dotted by faint stars and 
bright stars, with what appeared to be one of the faintest 
circled in red.

     Juri leaned forward and squinted her own eyes.  "I think I 
can see the tail, faintly..." she murmured.  "'Comet Kanae is a 
long-period comet with an estimated period of one thousand years,
discovered shortly after Ohtori Kanae's death by her fiancee,
Ohtori Akio...'"  She straightened, shaking her head.  "Notice
how there are no photos of him?" she asked in a low whisper.  
"And they don't make it explicit that he's the Acting Chairman?"

     Shiori nodded, and ran her eyes up and down the length of
the display case.  It held plenty of photos of Kanae--as a child
in a ballet recital, as a smiling adolescent in a fetching red
gown, as a lovely teenager with a white scarf wrapped round her
swanlike neck--a brief biography, certificates and awards 
(apparently, she'd been big in music and literature), several
sports trophies in swimming and baseball, a graceful violin made 
of pale red wood with the bow crossed over it, several 
derivative-but-competent Impressionistic watercolours (forest 
landscapes, and a single self-portrait) and a small, sombre brass
plaque with the dates of her birth and death.

     "I remember the announcement of her death," Shiori murmured.
"We had an assembly...  I remember, some people didn't think it
was right, making the whole school assemble, just because she was
the Chairman's daughter..."

     Juri nodded.  "One of her friends said in her speech that
Kanae never wanted to be treated differently at Ohtori because of
who she was.  Seemed rather hypocritical to me at the time."  She
sighed.  "Sad, really," she murmured.  "Not even twenty."

     They touched hands briefly.
     
     Shiori glanced at her as their fingers slipped free of one
another.  "Do you think Akio might have..."
     
     "I don't know," Juri softly replied.  "I wouldn't put it
past him.  He'd murder if he had to.  And Utena thinks he killed
Kozue."  She went quiet and looked around--no one else in hearing
range.  "But... he didn't seem the type to do it wantonly.  It
says Kanae died of a brain aneurism.  If he can induce something
like that... why?  And if he killed Kozue, why?"

     Shiori turned away from the case, eyes downcast.  "Let's go
and see Miki," she said, and began to walk towards the stairwell
halfway down the hall.  Juri paused to sweep her eyes a last time
over the reliquary of Ohtori Kanae's life, placed prominently 
just within the atrium beyond the front doors, then followed.
Sad, really, she thought again--a young woman with a lot of 
promise.  But her path had crossed Akio's, and...

     As they reached the landing midway between the floors and
prepared to ascend the second flight of wide marble stairs, Juri
stopped Shiori with a touch upon her arm.  They paused within the
puddled sunlight falling through the high windows like flies 
trapped in amber.  Dust motes writhed in the air.

     "Shiori..." she began.  "How much does this place remind you
of Nemuro Hall?"

     Shiori bit her lip.  "Not much," she said finally.  "It 
was... dark in Nemuro.  This place is full of sun and light."  
She gestured up at the big rectangular windows high above them.
"Nemuro... had a different feel to it.  Different architecture,
too.  Somehow, it didn't really fit in with the rest of Ohtori,
although I can't really think of how."

     "Good."  Juri said it softly, closing her eyes, smiling at
the warm sun touching her neck.  "Perhaps it's all just a 
coincidence, then."

     "You don't really believe that, do you, Juri?"
     
     "Of course not," Juri murmured.  She opened her eyes and
began to ascend the stairs again, touching Shiori's elbow lightly     
to beckon her along.  "But, while we're talking to Miki... as far
as we're concerned, there was never even a Nemuro Memorial Hall 
for it to be coincidental with."

     Shiori nodded.  They walked beneath the wide archway 
dividing the stairwell from the second floor, past windows of
stained glass depicting roses and poppies and lilies; turned, at
a corner, passed an abstract arboreal sculpture of bulbous
limestone clothed in shadow, and found themselves at Miki's 
office.  The door was slightly cracked.  Voices, too muffled to
decipher the words, reached out from within.

     Juri rapped her knuckles lightly on the wood, just below the
brazen plate with Miki's name upon it.  The voices stopped.
Feet shuffled lightly beyond the door for a moment, and then it
opened.

     "Hello," the opener said, managing to put a certain wary
hostility into even that singular word.  "You must be the famous
Juri-sempai."  

     "I suppose I would be," Juri replied evenly, taking the girl
in.  Final year, she guessed.  Tall, curvaceous.  Beautiful face,
pale, thin lips not entirely compensated for by a slight excess 
of crimson lipstick.  Hip-length hair, black as coal, smooth as
silk, pulled back into a thin braid.  "And you would be?"

     White jacket, with black piping, black-and-gold epaulettes,
red brocade at the throat and wrists to contrast.  Black slacks,
tapering tight along long legs.  "Akino Akami," the girl replied
almost ritualistically, as though it were a military rank.  Juri
half-expected her to salute.  Akino Akami?  The name meant 
nothing her.  "President, Ohtori Academy Student Council."  A bit
of the stiff formality left her voice, and she bowed.  "Miki-
sensei told me you were on campus.  I'm honoured to meet you.  
I've heard much about you."

     "Have you, now?" Juri murmured.  Beyond the young woman, she 
could see Miki sitting behind the long arm of big L-shaped oaken 
desk.  He smiled in greeting at her, nodded his head, but said 
nothing.

     Akami straightened, smiling tentatively, as though it were
an expression unusual to her.  "The Student Council of seven
years ago has been held out as an example to all others that
followed, including mine.  President Kiryuu..."

     "President Kiryuu was overrated," Shiori's icy tones drew
Juri's attention away from the President.  "I never felt as
thought my experience at Ohtori was especially improved by him."

     Juri saw Miki wince behind his desk, and knew that he had
heard--she didn't think Shiori could see him at her angle,
though.

     Akami turned slowly to regard Shiori with slightly hooded, 
sensually dark eyes.  "And you must be..."  She paused.  "I've no
idea who you must be."

     "Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai, please come in," Miki called
firmly, defusing further attention.  "Akami-kun, would you like
to stay a little longer?  I'd like you to meet Juri-sempai and
Shiori-sempai."

     "I'm sorry, Miki-sensei," Akami said over her shoulder as
she slipped past Juri and Shiori.  "I've got to go meet my aunt
very soon.  Goodbye.  Goodbye, Juri-sempai."  Another brief
pause.  "Shiori-sempai."

     Then she was gone.
     
     "Little tart," Shiori muttered as they entered Miki's 
office.  Quietly, but Juri coughed loudly all the same to cover
the possibility of Miki hearing it, and cast a pointed glare
Shiori's way.

     "Forgive me," Miki said, rising from behind his desk and
embracing Juri fondly.  She returned it, stiffly at first, then
with equal warmth--for only a moment, and then he pulled away to
briefly clasp Shiori's hands in both of his.  "Once again, it's 
so good to see the two of you.  Please, sit down."  He ushered
them to comfortable leather chairs before his desk, then moved
behind it again.  Juri looked around the office as he seated
himself: big, high-ceilinged, bookshelf-lined, full of sunlight
from the large blue-curtained window overlooking the room from
the wall behind the desk.  A potted fern in one corner, lush-
leafed, and green enough to spite the winter beyond the window.

     Miki glanced briefly at the computer monitor on the short 
arm of his desk, then turned his chair towards them and reached
out almost unconsciously to reorder some papers on his neat but
cluttered desktop.  "Juri-sempai, what's your e-mail address?  If
you'll give it to me, I can keep in touch with you after you go
back to Tokyo."  She gave it to him--Shiori gave hers as well--
and he smiled briefly and turned back to the computer to enter
them into his mailer's address book.

     There were framed photos on his desktop, but Juri could only
see their backs.  Kozue would be in some, she knew him well
enough for that--was she in one, perhaps?

     "How have you been, Miki?" she asked as he turned back.
     
     "Busy, busy."  He laughed softly, and toyed with a pen
briefly before replacing it on the desktop.  "I was so fortunate
to land a position at Ohtori as soon as I finished my Master's.
For me, it's a dream come true to be able to return here to
teach."

     "I'm still working on mine," Juri said, trying to relax.
"But, then again, I was never as smart as you, Miki-kun."  This
is Miki, she told herself--your old friend.  Who just happens to
be teaching at Ohtori, and...

     Miki clucked his tongue, interrupting her.  "Don't speak
about yourself like that, Juri-sempai.  It's just about your
priorities.  I got an early start on my university-level courses,
so it didn't take me long to get my Master's."  He turned his
gaze to Shiori.  "Shiori-sempai, how about you?  Working on your
Master's like Juri?"

     Shiori blushed a little.  "Actually, I'm finishing up some
courses I need for my Bachelors," she murmured.  "I switched
majors a few times, you see--I'm in Anthropology now--so..."

     Miki chuckled.  "I know how it goes.  I thought about
switching from Mathematics to Physics a year before I got my
Honours, but then I talked to my professor, and he pointed out
that with my credentials I could get a double major..."  He
trailed away, spotting the increasing embarrassment on Shiori's
face.  "Anyway, dry academic talk.  Not appropriate for a
reunion of friends.  Let me buzz my secretary and get us some
tea.  Or would you prefer coffee?"

     "Tea's fine," Juri said.  Shiori nodded silent agreement.
Miki politely asked for tea over the intercom, then looked back
to them in silence.

     "You have a secretary?" Shiori asked after a moment.
     
     Miki nodded, and it was his turn to look a little 
embarrassed.  "I really don't need one," he murmured.  "I told
them that.  But it's policy.  You two both went here--you know
the size of the endowments funds, the kind of budget Ohtori 
has... they give new teachers an experienced secretary to help 
them get accustomed to things.  She's been a big help to me."  
He shuffled some papers about for a moment in silence, pursing
his lips and almost frowning.  "How have you two been?  Still
roommates, I assume?"

     "Yes," Juri said.  
     
     Miki smiled.  "That's good to know.  Friends should stay
together, and you two are such good friends."

     Shiori looked briefly to Juri; Juri returned in kind.  A 
silent question in Shiori's eyes--Juri gave her back an almost 
invisible shrug.  How well could Miki read between the lines?  He
was smart, the smartest person she'd ever known, but he'd had his
blind spots...

     "How are you doing now, Miki?" she asked, looking away from
Shiori.

     "As I said, busy, busy."  He picked up a few sheets of 
paper, paperclipped them together, and put them in a drawer.  
"Lesson plans, marking assignments and tests, individual
consultation... that's not even getting into my work as a 
guidance counsellor."

     "Oh?" Shiori asked innocently.  "Did the President have a
guidance appointment with you?"

     Juri frowned, but Miki apparently didn't catch the nasty 
undertones at all.  "Well, yes.  But that's not important, and
what goes on between a student and his or her counsellor is
private."

     "Of course," Shiori said.
     
     "I meant how are you now, Miki," Juri said.  "I know we came
at a bad time... you seem a little stressed."

     Miki's smile became a little forced.  He shrugged, and moved
his stapler to the other side of the desk blotter.  "Not much 
more than usual."  Juri continued to look at him, unblinking,
until the smile cracked.  "Yes," he admitted finally.  "I'm a
little stressed.  It's so... so..."  His voice caught 
momentarily.  "So horrible," he finished at last.  "A terrible
tragedy.  They were friends, you know, and..."  He paused, then
shook his head.  "I can't talk about it, Juri-sempai.  I'm 
sorry."

     "Miki-kun..." Juri began, half-rising from her chair.
     
     "No!" he said sharply.  She sat back down.  "No, I mean--
it's not you.  I'm an employee of the school.  I know things I
wouldn't know otherwise.  So, under my contract, I can't..."

     "I understand," Juri said, hurt all the same, but not
allowing it to enter her voice.  "Let's talk of other things,
then.  But take care of yourself, Miki."

     "Yes, Juri-sempai."  He smiled again, though it was fragile.
Someone knocked on the door; Shiori answered it, and accepted a
tea tray with steaming pot and three mugs from Miki's pleasant,
matronly secretary.  

     They talked, as Juri had suggested, of other things.  The
classes she and Shiori took at U of Tokyo; what it was like to
live in such a big city; research papers they were working on 
(Juri remembered vaguely that she had a major one due in less
than two weeks, but it was a distant, unimportant thing now);
parties they'd been to recently; their hopes for the future.

     "Still modelling?" Miki asked at one point, as they sipped
tea and talked in the comfortable sunlit office.

     Juri nodded.  "Once in a while."
     
     He smiled.  "To be honest, I knew that.  I buy the 
magazines--not all the time, of course, they don't really have my
kind of fashion in them--to check for you.  Some of the girls in
my sixth-period Math class somehow found out that I'd known you
at Ohtori, and they were very impressed."

     Conversation turned towards his life.  Classes he taught
(mathematics for the higher grades, introductory and advanced
physics); clubs he sponsored (the music society, the fencing 
team); how he felt he fit in (a little out of place--he was the
youngest teacher there, hardly older than the older students--but
everyone was very nice, and did their best to make him feel
welcome).  He told funny stories about things that had happened
in his classes, laughed, smiled, poured them more tea, answered
their questions.  He couldn't answer the ones Juri really wanted
to ask, of course.  And the only other answer she wanted she 
didn't want to ask him the question for...

     Did he have anyone?  Someone to make him happy?  Someone for
him to make happy?  That latter would be most important to him, 
she thought.  He'd loved Himemiya (she would not call it a 
crush--the feelings could be that strong at his age, she knew 
that well enough).  Had he found anyone else, after that?

     But she couldn't ask him that, because then he'd ask her the
same thing back, and...

     Did he know already?  He'd known by the end, right before 
the duel called Revolution... but had he had any hints after 
that, after things went back to "normal"?  It was so hard for her 
to keep straight just what she had and hadn't known before Utena 
restored her memories that she couldn't definitely say.  But 
there was no way she could ask...

     "No, no, I'm unattached."  He was laughing as he spoke, in
response to a question from Shiori.  "The youngest female teacher
here is almost ten years older than me, and... well, like any
other school, Ohtori frowns on faculty dating students."  He
paused.  "Which reminds me of a story... you see, a few months 
ago, it was Shizuka-san's thirteenth birthday--Shizuka-san is in
my second-period physics class, she was walking with me today 
when I met you... tall girl, glasses, pigtails... anyway, it was
her thirteenth birthday, and, for some reason, her friends
decided..."

     Juri sighed inwardly, and looked at her watch.  And blinked.
Half-past noon?  Already?  She'd been supposed to check in with
Utena by now.  How times flies, she thought, and rose from her
seat.  "Excuse me for a little while.  Where's the washroom?"

     She received directions from Miki, and, for the sake of not
lying outright, visited it to wash her hands before going 
downstairs to the payphone she'd spotted earlier near the front 
doors.

     Her finger was about to dial the number for the hotel when
she heard the voice.  Soft as velvet, smooth as silk, sensual as
a caress against her breast--a voice with a vague hint of smoke
as of incense burning in it, a voice that spoke in a whisper loud
as thunder...

     "Arisugawa Juri-san?"
     
     She hung up the phone and looked back, slowly.
     
     "Chairman Ohtori," she greeted, in calm tones whose calm she
did not feel.  Smiled, and he smiled back at her.
     
* * *

"So... coming back to visit your roommate's mother?"

     "Yes."
     
     Snow crunched under her boots.  It hadn't been cleared too
well, along this path that led towards the forest.

     "You must be quite close to do that."
     
     "Shiori and I are old friends."
     
     Their route ended by wrought iron gates, beyond which lay 
the wide steps leading up towards the forest proper.  Juri rubbed
her hands together and breathed out, filling the air for a moment
with white fog.  Beside her, Ohtori Akio gazed past the gates and
up the stairs, hands in the pockets of his black woollen coat.

     "Are students still forbidden to go into the forest?"
     
     Akio nodded, eyes still fixed upon the gates.  "Yes."
     
     Does he know, she wondered?  He must know.  This is _his_
place, and, fool that you are, Arisugawa Juri, you've placed
yourself in his clutches again.  But...

     His head was tilted back, presenting his profile to her.
Every feature perfectly sculpted as though by divine hand, as
though he were some Platonic ideal of beauty--male or female, a
division like that had no meaning for one such as Ohtori Akio--
cast down from that higher realm to this imperfect earth.

     She realized suddenly that she was attracted to that beauty,
in the basest physical sense, and an almost indescribable nausea
descended upon her.  She'd had little contact with Ohtori Akio, 
even when she was a Duellist, but she was sure he hadn't had this
kind of effect then...

     "Have you ever wondered why ordinary students are forbidden
to go into the forest?" Akio asked, turning his gaze towards her,
breaking the flow of her thoughts as a dam breaks a river's
flow.

     "I did wonder that," she murmured.  "But I never questioned.
Why did you ask me to come for a short walk with you, Mr.
Chairman?"  There'd been no real way to say no without arousing
his suspicions, perhaps turning them towards Miki when they
wouldn't have gone there otherwise...

     "It is an old rule," Akio said, as though he hadn't heard 
her last sentence.  "From the school's founding.  The fear was
that the students would behave in immoral ways if allowed
unsupervised access to the forest--create some sort of hedonistic
Venuswald beneath the cover of the leaves, such as it were.  So 
walls were built, and a gate, and the students were only admitted
inside, into that beautiful forest, while under chaperon..."  He
frowned.  "Trips were infrequent, so infrequent that dangerous
animals moved back into the forest once they realized they need
not fear disturbance by humans.  One day, or so I have heard 
tell--this was years before I came here, you realize, and it is
only a story, and stories are often untrue--a wolf came out of 
the forest and killed a little girl.  From that day forth, the 
forest was forbidden altogether.  But that was so long ago... 
surely there are no more dangerous animals left within."  His 
frown deepened, and he shrugged.  "Some days, I think I should
knock the walls and the gates down, and allow all the students to
roam free within, beneath those bows of pine, upon those trails 
of earth..."

     Liar, Juri thought fiercely, staring at him.  "Is that all,
Mr. Chairman?"

     "Mr. Chairman..." Akio murmured.  "I couldn't remember if we
had ever been introduced to one another while you were a student
here, but I suppose we must have been, as you knew who I was as
soon as you saw me."

     A chill ran down Juri's spine.
     
     "But of course!"  He snapped his fingers, and smiled
triumphantly; his white smile, his perfect rows of teeth, beneath
that finely-shaped nose surmounted by rich dark eyes...  The
nausea again.  Like looking at a beautiful city that you knew to
be built atop the graves of a million murdered souls.  "At the
reception for your graduating class.  I asked you to dance, but
you turned me down."

     "I didn't know who you were," she muttered, looking away 
from him.  Not true; she had known.  She remembered now.  She
just hadn't wanted to dance with him.  He hadn't been like this
then--he hadn't.

     "You were the only woman there who turned down a dance from
me," he said.  "I was intrigued by that... but then I never saw
you again."

     "Why did you ask me to come for a walk with you, Mr.
Chairman?" she pressed.

     "Because..."  He looked away from her, again towards the
forest.

     "Because?" she prompted.
     
     "I..."
     
     "You?"
     
     "I wanted to know if you would have dinner with me tonight,
Arisugawa Juri-san."

     The "yes" was forming on her lips almost instantly.  She
choked it off by thinking of riding in the back of the car with
Ruka, to the ends of her world.  Akio's smile was blinding, and
looking into his eyes made her feel as though she were sinking
down into some deep, dark, secret place.  "I'll have to pass.  
Prior engagement," she managed at last.  Firmly, strongly--or so
she believed, so she hoped.

     He actually looked disappointed.  "Perhaps later, then.  How
long are you in town?"

     Two possible scenarios occurred to her: he didn't know she 
had her memories back, and was merely trying this seduction out
of the perversity of his nature; that, or he did know, and was
testing her, trying to see what approach she was going to take...
trying to see if she knew that he knew, but would behave as if
she didn't, or if she knew that he knew and would come out in the
open... complicated.

     "A few days, at least," she answered.       
     
     Suddenly, there was a leather-covered notebook in one hand,
a black pen edged in red and gold in the other.  "Then may I have
your number?"  

     "Hrm."  She smiled thinly.  "Why don't you give me yours,
instead?  I have an appointment to run to."

     He rapidly scribbled a number in the notebook, tore out the
page, folded it, and gave it to her.  "My cell phone."
     
     "Thanks."  She carefully avoided touching his fingers as 
she accepted the folded rectangle of paper.  "Now, as I told 
you, I have a phone call to make, and an appointment to get to
after that..."  She'd been gone nearly ten minutes now... Miki
and Shiori would probably be wondering, and she still had to 
call Utena.
     
     "You intrigue me, Arisugawa Juri-san."  He turned the full
force of his smile upon her, and she felt as though she stared
into the furnace of the sun.  His face moved towards hers, slow 
as though it swam through turgid waters, but she was helpless to
move as a mouse before a swaying cobra.  "You intrigue me very
much..."

     Her palm hit his chest, firmly, bare inches before his lips
would have touched hers.     
     
     "Don't be too forward, Mr. Chairman," she murmured.  She
could feel his heartbeat against her fingertips; somehow, his
coat had come unbuttoned, and her hand was against the thin red
silk of his shirt, against his breast.  Warm, so warm, as though
his blood carried some beautiful fire within it...
     
     Akio straightened, still smiling.  "I apologize."  He 
looked over his shoulder.  "I think our paths part here, Juri-
san."

     "So they do, Mr. Chairman," she said.  He turned without
another word and walked away from her.  Juri began to walk back
towards Kanae Memorial Hall on shaky legs, queasiness lessening
and fear growing with each step as the effect of his presence
left her.  What in God's name _was_ he, that he could make even
her feel that way?  What must it have been like for Utena, after 
she'd moved into the tower...

     Outside Kanae Hall, she sat down on the lower steps and took
several deep breaths.  There were a few other students in sight, 
but none close enough to her to note anything suspicious.  The
cold stone she sat upon helped to calm her further.  She wiped a 
hand through her bangs, and found them damp with sweat.

     As the almost visceral memory of Akio's presence faded 
completely, she tried to analyse her own behaviour, and found it
incomprehensible in hindsight.  But, when he'd been before her,
she'd barely been able to keep even superficial cool...

     She drew one last breath, then stalked back up the stairs 
and went to the phones again.  She dialed the hotel, asked to be
put through to Utena and Nanami's room number.  Utena answered on
the first ring.

     //"Juri?"//
     
     "It is me, yes, but you shouldn't answer the phone like 
that, in case it's someone else."

     //"Juri, he knows.  I don't know how--well, maybe I do.  He
knows where we're staying, someone got into the room, left
envelopes... letters, just like the ones from Ends of the 
World..."//

     Juri's fingers tightened on the handset until her knuckles
were bone-white.  "How is that possible?" she whispered.  "It...
what's in the letters?"

     Utena's voice was calm, disturbingly so, the calm of someone
on the verge of breaking down.  //"I... I don't know.  I've just
been sitting here, looking at them, for almost half an hour 
now... I keep on saying I'll make myself open the one that was on
my bed, but..."//

     "Open it now," Juri said gently.  "Tell me what's in it."
     
     She heard, faintly, tearing sounds, the rustle of paper.  
//"I had it in my hands,"// Utena murmured.  //"I think I was 
just waiting for you to call."//

     Do you want us to come back early?  She almost asked that
out loud, but didn't.  Utena wouldn't want them to, and the very
offer would be insulting, an open acknowledgement of the hidden
fragility in her voice.

     //"It's an invitation."//  Utena paused briefly, pointedly.
//"'You are cordially invited to the reception and official 
opening of the Kaoru Kozue Memorial Gallery at Ohtori Academy, 
Kanae Memorial Hall...'"//  Sharp, bitter laughter reached across
the phone lines and pricked at Juri's ears.  //"Memorials to 
them... that bastard.  After he..."//

     "Is it addressed to you?  Signed?  When is it?"
     
     //"Not addressed to me.  No signature.  And it's two 
nights from now.  Reception and opening ceremonies at eight.  
Dancing to follow."//

     "What's he playing at, Utena?"
     
     //"...I don't know.  I don't know at all."//
     
     Juri glanced at her watch.  "I've really got to hurry back,
so I'll be quick.  Miki's here.  He's a teacher."

     //"Oh."//
     
     "You don't sound too surprised."
     
     //"...I've got a lot more to tell you, Juri.  I saw Touga
today--"//

     "What?"
     
     //"He was at the hotel, looking for Nanami... he..."//
     
     "Yes," Juri murmured.  "Yes, you've definitely got a lot
more to tell me.  And I've got more to tell you.  But I've got to
go now.  Take care of yourself, Utena.  Be careful."

     //"You too, Juri."//
     
     She hung up.  Touga!  That was the last thing she needed.
And how had Utena met up with him again?  Had he knocked on the
door of the room, and she'd been stupid enough to answer it?  Or
had she done something foolish like sitting in plain sight in the
lobby?  Too many damn questions.

     Akio knew.  Which meant that... so, the expedient thing to
do now was probably to act as though she didn't know he knew, and
tell Shiori and Nanami to do the same, keeping always in mind 
that he _did_ know... but if he'd done something so open to
acknowledge their presence as to send invitations to their hotel
rooms, how could they continue to behave towards him as though
they didn't know he knew?  But, on the other hand...

     By the time she reached the second floor, she had the 
beginnings of a headache.

                         fin du matin