The Reason We Fight

A Shojou Kakumei Utena/Sidestep/Highlander fusion.

A One-shot by Rick Spiff



Disclaimer: I'm SOOOOO sorry! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!
I'm not responsible if you keep reading, I'm not! Do you hear me?! I
refuse to be responsible for what happens!!!

----------

This Morning:


She lay in the shade of the cherry tree. Her short hair listed slightly
in the direction of the wind, blown over like a pink snow bank. A few
strands still danced on the currents of air that churned the grass she
lay on and tugged at her school uniform restlessly. In the deep shadows,
her face was the picture of relaxation, the image of a person who had
nothing to worry about.

But it was an act.

An illusion.

For Utena Tengou, the most popular girl of Ohtori Academy, was a master
of self-delusion.

It was a disturbing fact to learn, especially of herself, but it was
true. So many years had passed since it happened, so long had it been
branded into her mind, it was a difficult habit to break. Given time,
however, and much hard work, she could learn to lay under this cherry
tree, in this cool shade in the delicious summer breeze, and be relaxed;
be REAL.

"It is time."

Utena blinked and sat up at the sound of the voice. Her movements were
not hurried, nor were they driven by fear. This was an expected thing, a
curtain dropped and a curtain raised as the new actors took the stage.

"Yes."

James Rahn looked back at her. The boy with a scarred eye, her friend
from long ago. His thin, sandy-blond hair had been tossed wild from the
wind, his straight face marked with one sightless eye, and one in
crystal blue. He was wearing his trench coat, a fact Utena noted only
when he pulled a small device from it. It was like a remote, a small
black box that just fit in the palm of his hand. Sighing, he removed the
clear plastic safety cover and pressed the big red button underneath it.

She knew what that meant. She couldn't say what she knew of it, or how,
but she knew that the signal had come at long last.

Today, the Castle of the Roses would fall.

Today, they would all die.

Tonight, she would know the truth.

----------

A week previous:


She grabbed the handle, half-expecting the numbing cold that encircled
her finger, precisely following the tiny metal band with the crystal
rose. Even after all this time, however, she still flinched when the
sudden change in temperature came, rubbing the hand with the ring
absently.

Ascending the stairs, she almost sang along with the ancient tune that
strummed the air as if to play all living things like a giant orchestra
of instruments. The words made no sense to her, but the beat was
distinct, the sound of voices raised in joyous harmony clear and
resonant in her mind. After some three hundred steps, she reached the
top of the circular platform, readied for combat, ready to face her
opponent, ready for anything but what she saw there.

He was waiting for her.

The same dull blonde hair, the same cocky smirk. The same scarred face,
one blue eye gazing at her coldly, the other a clouded crimson with a
single white line running vertically through it, to match the thin,
straight scar that ran along the left side of his face from jaw to
hairline. The look in his eyes wasn't one of hatred, his posture not
one of a man expecting a fight. He still looked at her with that
ice-cold blue orb in dangerously half-amused, half-disgusted way.

As she stepped haltingly onto the stone ring of battle, he didn't blink
once.

He wore the same black cloak, patched in the places she'd hit all those
years ago, fighting in the cold woods, on the bridge over the river, and
even on her old school grounds. His right hand rested lightly on what
appeared to be a tall, wooden staff, an instrument she knew as a long
and particularly dangerous katana he was very fond of. It was the last
weapon he had fought with, on the day she tried to take his life and
instead nearly took off his face.

"Utena-san."

"James." She growled.

"You're as lovely as ever, I see."

"And you're as disgusting as ever."

He frowned playfully. "Don't you have anything nice to say to your dear
friend?"

Her lips curled in hatred; a hatred she couldn't hold back as she spat
out a reply. "FRIEND?! Friend? Is that what you call trying to kill me,
day after day?"

Another tightly measured frown, then a gentile smile. "No, that's called
training. If I had intended to kill you, you would be dead and I would
be without hope."

She ignored his comment. Few things James said ever made sense, so it
was in her best interests to ignore him before they fought. He was a
master at finding weaknesses, and he had taught her, years ago, that
such weaknesses are best felt out before combat begins.

He watched idly as her clothing was properly altered for battle, and she
drew the magic sword. Again, she never saw him blink during the whole
affair, his face patient and terribly blank.

She wondered if she was doing the right thing.

"I assume you came here to fight." She challenged him.

"One does not prepare for battle to be a spectator."

Fine, whatever that meant. She moved into a combat stance, watching him
closely. He pulled off the cloak with his free hand, tossing it aside.
It flew through the air in an impossibly flat arc, landing near the edge
of the arena. Then he picked the staff up and placed it in his left
hand. So, it was to be a right-hand draw, then. Just as well, he hadn't
changed much at all. He wore a simple blue boy's uniform, accentuated
with thin lines of gold trim. His clothes were conspicuously absent of
hooks, stray threads, loops or any 'frills.' Despite it's mundane,
almost sterile appearance, it was a combat uniform, built for the
singular purpose of unrestrained fighting.

He let the long sheath rest by his side, the sword parallel to the
floor, hands at ease by his sides. He had moved one foot slightly in
front of the other, setting his body at a slight angle to her attack.

With a cry, she struck.

And something hard, like a piece of solid wood backed by tempered steel,
slammed into her stomach.

She never expected to hit him, of course. The first blow NEVER landed on
James. Not even that time she snuck up behind him with a frying pan. The
bastard could smell the intent of violence a mile away. Surprising, when
one considered how he was virtually awash in it.

Stumbling backwards, Utena covered herself with her sword. James watched
her, tracking her movements clinically with his one working eye. His
sword was still at his side.

As soon as she steadied herself, Utena struck again, her sword moving
faster than any human should be able to follow. James blocked with his
sword, then counter attacked just as swiftly, handling his enormous
katana easily. Metal clacked against metal, then sparked on the next
blow. When he stepped forward, she cross-cut, breaking his stance. He
responded with three rapid lunges into her guard. With the great length
his sword offered, James was easily able to push Utena back.

She feinted right, then charged all out, caught in his guard before she
turned back to the centerline of his body. James easily deflected her
blows, matching her strikes with his, neither able to grab the upper
hand.

Finally, James caught her on a daring maneuver, pressing her back with
wild, wind-cutting slashes, then closing in with short thrusts to get
past her guard. It worked, too. She dodged to one side, dropping low and
spinning, knowing that having her back to James' blade was suicide. She
stopped dead in place when she felt cold steel on the back of her neck.

"Good. Excellent, in fact."

He was breathing hard. After a moment, she realized that she was too.
James held the end of his sword to the back her neck, her blade only
inches too short to strike back at him. Even if it was long enough, even
if she had followed through with the attack, it would have only
scratched his knee.

He pulled out of his stance and walked to the edge of the ring,
retrieving his sheath from where it had landed. She could not recall him
drawing his blade free at any point, but he obviously had, moving too
quickly to be followed by her eyes.

It was then, with his back to her, sword fully sheathed, that Utena
looked to the rose on her chest. She could only catch it with the edge
of her vision, but she could see it remained undisturbed.

Glancing around the ring, almost in a panic, she saw no other rose
petals. There was still a chance.

There was still a chance!

Growling in her throat, Utena charged, her sword poised in front of her
like a lance, aiming for the spot where his rose must still be resting.

Deftly, he raised the sheath she had failed to notice in her haste and
anger. She pulled up, moving to one side, but the sheath followed,
ramming into her breast, casting her rose free...

The petals scattered in a sudden wind, gone over the edge before they
could land on the arena floor.

"Aha, persistence. Again, a well-learned trait, Utena-san."

"I lost..." Were those her words? Did she just speak?

He paused, his breath still. "That is the way things are this time
around. Tomorrow, Utena-san?"

Her shocked voice echoing in her own ears. "I lost." Then, "What do you
mean, tomorrow?!"

"A duel, just the two of us?" He looked at Anthi, thoughtfully, then at
her, blankly.

"I LOST." She yelled, anger beating down judgment.

"Get over it. I've lost a lot of fights before, Utena-san. That
bitterness, that cold pain in your heart, it will live with you forever;
a reminder of the mistakes you've made today, a mark for the future." He
grinned, his gaze turned inward. "Yes, tomorrow should be interesting,
after today. Farewell."

----------

Six days previous:


She woke screaming.

No nightmare Utena had experienced before could compare to the monster
that had just roused her from a peaceful sleep. This one had no shape or
form that she could recall, just a deep, smothering blackness that
choked all life from her. It didn't seem to have a name or a form, it
was only a bearer of palpable terror the likes of which she had never
felt before.

"Awake already, Utena-sama?"

Utena started at the sound of the voice. A hazy yellow beam of sunlight
came through a single window in the room, illuminating only one spot of
the floor directly. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, switched
off. The only other person in the room didn't look very large, but that
may have been due to the way they sat in the corner, with their knees
drawn up to their chest. The person was dressed in a nice double
breasted suit and wore a matching gray fedora low over their brow.

"Awake?" Utena looked around the room. She was laying on the only piece
of furniture, a lone cot set as far from the sunlight as possible. "How
long have I been asleep?" She asked.

"About three hours. That's a pretty big bump on your head."

"Bump?" Utena echoed. She felt her head, finding a large and rather
uncomfortable bulge on her scalp. Son of a... "And how--ouch!--how did
this happen?" She asked, the 'ouch' coming from her careless probing of
the wound.

"The window Nicholas knocked loose fell on you. I took the car Mr.
Damacus gave us and left, just as planned. It's a shame we had to burn
it down, the paintings there were just amazing."

Utena shook her head, which turned out to be a fantastically bad idea.
The movement made her violently nauseous, but, thankfully, she wasn't
conscious long enough to fully enjoy the sensation.

----------

Three days previous:


"FASTER!!!"

She couldn't even see straight, for god's sake, what did he expect from
her?! He charged again, little more than a dark blur in the center of
the big light blur her vision had become. She positioned herself to
counter a few milliseconds before she realized it was a feint. The blur
disappeared in a rush of wind and a solid punch landed in her gut.

Cast from her feet, she had no purchase, landing helplessly on a nearby
desk. Crashing to the ground, she used her only free hand to try and
break her fall. Bad idea; the bruise on her wrist protested with a
vengeance, pain taunt in her veins.

The small boy lowered his sword, his face an expressionless mask. She
turned away from him, away from the flat gaze that scanned her from head
to toe, unflinching.

Anthi murmured a curse to herself and stepped between Utena and the boy.
Even Anthi, a good head shorter than Utena, was taller than the boy. She
heard a voice behind her, and turned to try and see who was speaking.
The voice was clear and deep, reminding her of the cold lake she and her
friends often went swimming in.

"Begin!"

It was the voice that had spoken earlier. Teacher?

Anthi attacked without a word, snarling like a caged animal. Her sword
slashed through the air with the sound of cloth ripping, her blade
invisible to Utena. Her ears were still ringing from that last blow. She
pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to force back the pain.

This, she remembered. Sparring, fighting with swords, her teacher, the
large man with glasses and a cape.

No... her teacher was a woman. The fencing expert who taught her just
enough to practice on.

Or was she?

Where had she learned to fight?

"Utena-sama?"

Utena blinked. Anthi was shaking her. "Utena-sama, class is over."

"Uh... yeah... when?"

"Ah, you fell asleep about five minutes ago."

"Oh, that's right." During their free-reading. Was that just a dream, or
memories she cared not to unlock?

Unconsciously, her hand curled into a fist. The duel. Again. Today. In
about twenty minutes, in fact. Again, she was to face James. This would
be their fourth duel. On their third, he had shown her a counter with
the back of his sword, introducing it to her funny bone. The pain was
almost gone, but yesterday it had still been difficult to swing a blade
with any force; he'd resigned himself to waiting an extra 24-hours for
their meeting.

Curiously, he had not attacked her out of the blue on campus, as she
remember him doing from their childhood.

Campus? No, they used to fight at the orphanage.

No, that wasn't right either. They weren't aloud to have weapons at the
orphanage. That was why James was sent away. Utena shook her head, doing
her best to clear it.

"Are you coming, Utena-sama?"

"Sure, Anthi. Just let me get my things." Jeeze, this whole dueling
thing was getting out of hand. Next thing she knew, she might be
misplacing her head.

----------

Two days previous:


"Do you have the feeling we're just drifting through life, aimlessly,
endlessly..."

"Shut up and fight." She growled, her voice low and dangerous.

Through her narrowed eyes, she watched James lift his nodachi to a
guarding position and charge. Metal clanged against metal, sparks
loosened in the process.

"Do you have a purpose, Utena?"

She ignored his comment and dove at his retreating form, cutting from
the Earth to the Heavens, intending to slice James in two from his hips
to his neck. Agonizingly, he dodged it, by the slimmest of margins, and
circled her warily. "Don't you see we're missing something? Like, oh...
a direction in life?"

She closed her eyes, sword whistling through the air again.

----------

Years ago:


The battlefield. She had been here before, in this pose, ready to cut
him down, cut down his smiling face and rip his body to shreds.

She missed.

Cursing under her breath, she tried to close the distance again, but no
matter how fast she moved, she could not catch him. Was this another
illusion? Another dream? Or was this the same one?

A piece of her past, perhaps?

He gestured, and dead bodies filled her vision. "Whaa?" Her mind choked
off the sight of thousands of corpses littering the ground. Blood was
flowing up to her ankles now; the smell was unbearable.

She blinked, and his face was suddenly inches from hers. His breath was
hot and sweet; his voice crisp and level. "I'm talking about this,
Utena-san. All the killing. This is getting a little ridiculous. Don't
you think we should do something more productive with our lives?"

She considered the question for a moment. "I've never killed anybody!"

The figure in the trench coat looked surprised. "Oh? Then what's this?"

She was already charging at him, the blade of her weapon raised above
her head. He gestured as she closed the gap, and time slowed down. The
light of the world, of the dull gray sunlight she had been standing
under just a second ago, disappeared. Before her was James, laying on
the ground.

He was dead.

A blade clattered to the ground, the crack of wood upon rock.

"No." Her voice, hoarse.

Dead.

"No." She said again.

Yes, a voice insisted, he most certainly was. No one could survive that
gaping chest wound. Almost as she heard the words, she saw the gash
across his chest, like something appearing from the edge of her vision;
something always about her awareness but impossible to see until just
that moment.

"He's dead."

"I know, Anthi."

"God damn... god DAMN!"

"I heard you the first time."

"You _killed_ him! It was just a goddamn sparring match and you cut his
fucking HEART OUT!!!"

"SHUT UP!"

Anthi's brown eyes burning into hers, like a piston of hot steel ramming
into her soul, melting the coldness in her heart, cutting through the
ice and bringing her blood to a slow boil.

She looked at the body again, one body amongst thousands, standing the
center of an entire valley of carnage.

For the many she had just slain, whose blood stained the ground, who
fell ranks upon ranks to her steel, she felt nothing. For the single
body of the boy who had been her friend since she before she knew her
own name, she felt everything. Every tease he inflicted on her, every
soft gaze that melted her heart, every hard-won message of wisdom he
spouted, every heated match the engaged in...

James, that fighter of fighters...

Her friend...

Utena watched, transfixed, as she seemed to separate from her own body,
the girl standing on that broken battlefield growing slowly distant. She
saw that body convulse once... twice... and fall to the ground in slow
motion.

----------

An illusion?

She teetered on the edge of the bridge, her sword tumbling slowly to the
crashing waves below, to the invisible black waters far, far below her.

Then that, was an illusion.

"Utena-san, I love you." A fated shadow said, and then the world fell,
turned to ashes by her truth.

And perhaps this too, was an illusion.

A yell breaking into the silent night. The cold, flat scream of metal
sliding across wet concrete and the dull, wet sound of his katana
rending flesh, bone, and clothing with equal ease.

Perhaps everything was in illusion.

Fingers breaking under her the sheath in her hands. The guttural scream
cut sudden short as her sword lunged into the Miki's open mouth.

And if it was,

His eyes, glowing with fury, staring down at the broken form of Aiko
Ohtori, sprawled across the rain-swept steps. The flash of lighting and
the roll of thunder in the distance illuminating his frame for one
instant; searing the image into her mind for eternity.

then she could be dreaming, couldn't she?

The soundless scream that came from her soul, crawled up her gut, slid
past her throat, and tore into her mind driving her blade forward with a
strength that defied explanation. Her body shaking with rage as she
slashed again and again into her target, the blows drawing sparks before
her clouded vision, until there was a snapping noise and her blade went
_through_ his block...

Then she could just wake up, couldn't she?

Kiryuu's head opening up like a rip mellon, cut clean in two. The
fragments of his sword flying past her red cheeks, the tip of the
blade scratching her skin, drawing a thin line of crimson from her
prominent cheekbones all the way to her ear, which it parted like water.

She could forget, couldn't she?

"Let's go."

And go back to sleep.

"Let's GO."

To sleep, with the fishes.

"Utena-san!"

She jumped.

----------

Only a moment ago:


The name died on her lips when she opened her eyes.

"James."

The clock ticked, echoing in the empty room. She look about to find
herself locked safely in her dorm room. Not a thing was out of place.
She sat at the low table in the middle of the room, clutching one hand
to her chest. The moon was full and high in the sky, with the last
embers of the sun coating the horizon in a layer of glowing orange.

Her desk lamp was the only light on, illuminating the room only faintly
with it's light. She opened her hand, placing it on the table, flat, in
front of her, fingers spread out. Her eyes moved up, seeing the sword
lying there.

For a moment, she remained motionless, not daring to touch the black
sheath, afraid it might be real; even more afraid it might just be her
imagination. After a minute had passed, and the sword had not
disappeared, she lifted her hand and touched it with one finger.
Ignoring the sweat almost dripping from her palm, she ran her finger up
the length of the sheath, marveling at how smooth it was. The black
lacquer on the wood was of exceptional quality; this thing almost looked
like a show piece. The handle was wrapped with an ordinary black cord
and the pommel cut from a single piece of brass.

She admired how the surface gleamed in the light from the lamp, and
presently cast her gaze to the window, and to the setting sun.

She remembered. Not everything was there, but enough to know where her
answer would lay. In the man called Aiko Ohtori, or in the man known as
James, she would find her answers. One of them knew, she could not tell
how, but she could feel it in her bones.

And the sword... the sword... she looked at it once again, mentally
measuring the length of the blade, estimating the weight and balance
with a practiced eye. She could not recall how many times she had
handled a weapon like this, but as she took the handle in her hand,
her senses told her this was a familiar thing.

It was time to face destiny.

----------

Right Now:


"But Miss, you don't know what you're doing! The Chairman is very
busy--"

She knew exactly what she was doing. She pushed the babbling clerk aside
and opened the door. Kicking would do no good here; that door was made
of solid mahogany.

And there, sitting at the far end of the long, thin conference table,
smirking in the low lighting that cast the room and it's occupants in
shades of gray, was the man she had been looking for; the man she knew
would be waiting right here when she solved the puzzle.

The clerk scrambled away once the man gestured, leaving Utena to look at
the room's two occupants. The first she recognized immediately, despite
the lighting, and the second... well, she couldn't see from this angle.
In any case, the other person had fallen asleep in their chair, slumped
over the table and snoring loudly.

Snoring? Thought Utena. It couldn't be...

She focused her attention on the man as she spoke, her eyes looking into
the shadows right where his should be.

"Hello, James."

"Hello, Utena-san."

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."

"No, I don't care why you're here. I just want some information." She
held his one eye with hers, pushing her will onto him from across the
room. Her thumb stroked the sheath of her weapon absently.

"No need for that, Utena-san." He said.

She looked at the other person once again. "I trust she's merely
asleep?"

James nodded. "Of course, but she needs to wake up now. What I have to
tell you, I have to tell her as well."

She considered this for a moment. James wasn't one to lie over something
so trivial. "Sure, wake her."

She watched him move toward Anthi, almost delicate in his movements. He
wasn't armed.

"Anthi." He shook her gently by the shoulder. "Anthi, it's time to wake
up."

"Mmm, just a few more... minutes."

"Anthi!"

"Ya?! Huh?" Anthi yawned hugely. Watching her, Utena carefully fended
off the urge to yawn in response. She couldn't be distracted now.

"Well, James?"

"James-san."

"Okay. Anthi, Utena, would care to sit down?"

"I'd prefer to stand, if you don't mind." She said, holding her ground.

"Certainly, but would you please close the door and come inside?"

Utena complied with caution, being sure to lock the large doors. It was
her saving grace that she didn't kick them open. Of course, James had
left them un-latched.

"All right, talk."

He folded his arms, looking thoughtfully into the distance. Anthi
glanced around, rather confused, but one glance at Utena put her at
attention. "I don't remember my original name; I don't think any of us
do. An unusual curse the three of us share. But that's not all we
share. We were all born in a small valley outside of Versailles, France,
in the year seventeen seventy-six. We three are immortal, and have
wandered the earth for over two hundred years, waiting for the sign."

"What sign?" Utena asked, feeling edgy. She couldn't figure out why his
words were making her so uncomfortable, but she had to know, had to stay
and find out where this was going.

"For the Gathering. For the last battle of the immortals on this
world.... The battle for the Prize."

"The Prize?" Anthi echoed.

"Yes, that which Aiko, the one who posed as your elder brother, lusted
after. That which the members of the student council plotted and dueled
for. That which every immortal intangibly desires, no matter if they can
say they do or not. Every immortal, that is, except myself."

"What does this have to do with us?"

"Do you know how many scars I have, Utena-san?"

She thought for a moment. It was a simple question; one she felt she
should instinctively, but she could not catch a number with her tongue.
At length, she just shrugged.

"I have two scars. The first, on my face." He pointed at the line that
went over--no, through--his eye. "The second, under my shirt." He slid
his trench coat off slowly, staring at Utena the whole time. Once he set
his trench coat on the conference table, he pulled off the black long-
sleeved shirt he wore, then lifted his arms to the sides as if awaiting
crucifixion.

Utena gaped; she just couldn't help it. The scar on his face was
practically invisible compared to the massive wound he had once endured.
How he had survived it, Utena could not imagine. A line of white scar
tissue, written over with swirls and wrinkles like the markings of an
ancient language ran from fingertip to fingertip, clear across his
chest. The wound had snapped his breastbone neatly and two, and the line
of it still looked uneven.

This was not the mark of a sword, it was more like someone had used a
shovel to tear him apart.

"Utena," He said after a moment, still staring into her eyes. "You gave
me this."

"I... I couldn't have... I-I don't remember..."

... One body among thousands...

"No! It can't be... I..."

But she _saw_ it, the girl on that battlefield... was that her?

"Sorry, Utena-san, but this is necessary."

Was that his voice? From behind her? Her weapon was slapped away,
clattering to the ground, and a spike of pain rammed into her back. She
twisted around the point for a moment, her mouth open in agony. The
world drained of color, and standing there, she was sure she was going
to die.

As she slumped to the floor like a puppet with it's strings cut, her
last sight was of James stabbing Anthi in the back with a small tanto.

Her eyes closed, and as the last thought of her mortal life ran over her
brain, one thing became clear.

She was more than she thought she was.

Then the light took her, and there was no room for thinking, only room
for the truth.

----------

"Utena-san? Are you all right?"

She blinked, finding that the world had decided to turn itself into one
massive blur. "You just stabbed me in the back, you fucking idiot, I
don't FEEL all right!" She shot back.

Wait. She didn't hurt at all now, didn't she?

A chuckle came from her right. James. "It's nice to see you've got your
old attitude back."

Attitude? She had always--

"Anthi?"

"Perfectly fine, 'you fucking idiot'."

She killed him... she killed him... she killed him... she killed him...

She had killed him, and he had not died.

"Good, I... I..." A lone sigh, shaking with emotion.

She had killed her best friend. Lost in a foreign country, two hundred
years ago, she had struck him down by accident in a sparring match.

"God, I'm... I'm so sorry!" Then, the sounds of someone crying, bawling,
_screaming_.

Then she'd just snapped. Everything that had went on before and after
were as clear as a bell. The agreement with the Shogun, the private
little war, the two week long game of cat-and-mouse with a pack of
samurai. She remembered the battle on that dreary, rainy day,
surrounded by hundreds of expert swordsmen, seven hundred trained
killers against three young children.

Anthi's reassuring murmurs as she held James, as he cried like a baby,
remember, as she was, all the pain she had endured to be here.

She remembered their training in the capital, the government's plans to
stop a revolution of the like that had overthrown Britain's colony in
the Americas. She remembered their first fencing instructor, the
nameless man with an eye patch, and all they had learned from him and
abroad. She remember James' fascination with all things having to do with
combat and war, his subtle boasts and extra-ordinary abilities as they
learned hand-to-hand combat from old British sailors. She remembered
them being sent to the far east, and the journey over land that had
nearly cost them their lives.

She remembered the masters in China, the blades they had learned to make
in Japan, the Emperor, who they had never seen, and the world they had
helped create. She remembered the many, many lives they had come to live
after that fight, after they had lost James. She recalled the many times
her and Anthi had come together, as if drawn through their lives by a
string of fate, time and time again, brought to one another, always
fighting.

Why hadn't James come then? Why hadn't he come to them in Chicago? Why
not during the Battle of the Bulge, when they walked a hundred miles
through forests to stop a regiment of tanks, armed with little more than
their wits and an unhealthy dose of determination?

Why now?

Utena looked at her hands, at the blood--her blood--that stained
them. James had... had...

"Utena-sama?"

That had come all this way to find them. "Yes?"

"Do... do you want to t-talk?"

"No."

He had survived, after all this time, just finding a way to get by, much
as she and Anthi had done.

"You remember, don't you?"

"I remember everything, Anthi."

"Yes, but that isn't enough." Said James.

She turned to look at him, her eyes focusing easily on his bent form.

"There's still one more thing I have to tell you."

She waited, patiently. There was a lot she'd missed of his life, but did
he have something else to tell her about hers?

"I love you. I've always loved you. I fought you throughout our
childhood so that you would be strong enough to take care of yourself,
to stand on your own in this world. But I... I think I went too far." He
lowered his head.

"I did, didn't I?"

"Um... Utena-san?"

"Utena-sama?"

With effort, Utena finally closed her mouth.

James... he... actually...

"What?"

"I love you." He shook his head. "Well, that's about the dumbest thing
I've ever said. Hell, it only took me two--"

Utena flattened him in a knock-your-socks of hug, wrapping her arms and
legs around chest, crushing the breath from him. She was too busy to
talk, and for once, so was he, as her tongue probed deep into his mouth,
eliciting a not entirely unpleasant sensation in her gut. When she ran
out of breath, she slowly pulled out of the kiss, looking him in the
eye.

"You jerk."

"At least I've finally worked up the nerve to tell you." He said slowly.

"Two hundred _years_?! How dare you keep a girl waiting that long!"

"I wasn't sure if--" He was cut off as Utena kissed him again, this time
waiting until he almost passed out before letting off.

"Wasn't sure, you... you..."

"Jerk?" He offered.

Utena smiled, slowly pulling herself off of him. Anthi was still seated,
her head resting in one palm, smiling at them.

"Now that's a scary thought," She said as Utena and James got to their
feet. "James and Utena."

Utena stuck her tongue out at Anthi, who just laughed. Then Utena turned
to James, who was looking at her strangely, and hugged him again,
holding him close.

"When did she get this clingy?" He asked Anthi over Utena's shoulder.

"She's always clingy in bed." Anthi said, looking innocent.

"Hmm." James said to himself.

Utena finally let go him, somewhat, and looked around the room with a
wide smile on her face, until she spied Anthi and the blood that ran
down the chair she was sitting in. "I'll be damned. You make a mess,
James."

"I know, but it was the only way to bring back your memories."

"Wait, how long have you been at this school?" Asked Anthi.

"Two years. I killed Aiko then and took over. I've been running the
place in his name, pulling strings to get the two of you here, hoping I
had the right people."

"You waited here for us? Why?" Utena said, looking at him with an
expression that was half-worry, half-joy.

He smiled back, nervously. "This is the place of the Gathering."

Silence entered the room at that moment.

"The student council..." Utena said slowly, afraid to ask.

"All of them." James said, nodding to her. "I'm sorry if I--"

"No." Utena put a hand up to stop him from apologizing. "We can work on
that problem later."

"Oh, there's so much I have to tell you." James said.

"I'd imagine." Anthi commented, rising from her seat. "We've only missed
out on two centuries of living."

"I can't imagine how that feels. If only I'd gotten to you sooner..."
Began James.

"It's okay, James." Said Utena. "That you found us is enough."

"Right. Well, you two need to get cleaned up. I can handle this room,
but your clothes..."

"James," Asked Utena.

"Yeah?" He said, looking to her.

"You didn't think this over very thoroughly, did you?"

James looked from Anthi to Utena a few times, then examined the floor.
"Ah... no?"

Anthi patted him on the head like a small pet. "Baka." She said
affectionately.

"My Baka." Utena said, grabbing James around the shoulders with one arm.

"Right, girls. We do have the student council to think about..." He
said, reminding them.

"Yes." Utena said.

She walked to the small windows set in the side of the conference room,
the windows that looked out over the Tokyo skyline. With the sun long
behind the horizon, the city was like a colony of millions of busy
fireflies, lighting up the land below.

When she spoke, Anthi and James echoed her words in their own minds.
"The student council, this whole academy... all tools of some kind? We
are certain to have an interesting time ahead of us." The other two came
up to stand beside her, gazing into the night laid out before them.
"Yes, that we do."

----------

Yes, this was bizarre. Yes, it begs to be an epic.

And no, I am not writing such an epic.

Yes, you may, but only if you remember who started this little tale.

I kind of stumbled upon this piece of action. First came the fight scene
between Utena and James. Originally, I was going to dunk the whole idea
because I hate putting James in everything, but his style just kind of
stuck. And after that one scene, so did the idea. I packed it away,
moving along to work on my much larger Utena fic (which is not a
crossover, and also not being written at the moment). Recently, I had
the fortune of watching the first 'Rurouni Kenshin' tape (god I hope I
spelled that right). The one where he kills a lot of people. Anyway, I
got back from my friend's house and tossed in Utena. Not thirty seconds
into the opening song, the rest of the story just hit me.

As I write this, I have not finished watching that first tape.

Buuuuut, this story is pretty cool anyway, and it does provide a kind of
bizarre explanation for the whole 'plot' to this rather addictive anime.

... Even if it doesn't make much sense itself. ;)

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