Work Text:
The floor of the small temple dedicated to the Mirthful Ones is slick with orange blood. What a change of pace; normally its painted maroon. You move gingerly towards the altar and cough through the smell of burnt flesh.
Juri, the local priestess of the Messiahs, is standing over the charred remains on the altar. She doesn’t look at you. “Acolyte Tenjou, you’re late,” she says in her always precise manner. “If you had arrived earlier you may have helped me deal with the rebellious one. He honestly thought that he could try to disrupt this place.”
You feel the hot rush of blood flowing to your cheeks. Thank the Mirthful Ones that the traditional paint will cover your blush. “Ah—sorry. I had to check on my moirail,” you say. “I lost track of time. Wakaba would talk to anyone for forever, haha…”
Juri scoffs lightly. “Shinohara seems the type, if Miki’s description of her is anything to go by.”
“Miki told you about me and Wakaba?”
She turns around gracefully with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s quite normal for moirails to discuss current events,” Juri says while carefully walking towards you.
You can see the fading gray flecks hidden among the indigo of her eyes and you’re pretty sure that she can see the blush now. Normally the high ranking members of the Order of the Messiahs wouldn’t deign to speak so frankly to anyone let alone a mere acolyte like you. Of course she would be Miki’s moirail, he’s always seemed to be the one needing a strong influence in his life.
“Yeah, well,” you mumble. “Sorry about his arm. He’s going to be alright, right? I tried to keep him mostly unharmed. He’s not like Saionji.”
Her fangs briefly flash in what probably is a small smile. “No, acolyte, he is not. I warned him not to fight you,” she says quietly. “An injured arm where he could have been culled for insolence alone is nothing to be angry about.”
You breathe easier after that. “Why would I cull him? He’s a pretty decent guy…even if he still wants to do these stupid duels.”
“Why wear the symbol of the Roses if you’re not prepared to fight?”Juri asks. Her voice is in the same quiet introspective voice she uses when questioning the other acolytes about some obscure religious text.
You raise your own eyebrows in response. You know that she wears the ring, too, but… She’s so close. Only Wakaba normally stand this near but Juri’s stance is all wrong. Wakaba would never stand so close with that look of introspection. “It’s a stupid tournament that really makes no sense, priestess. I don’t wear it for that. An adult troll gave it to me when I was young—said it’ll lead me to the rightful path,” you respond quietly. “I guess that’s why I decided to follow the Mirthful Messiahs. I mean. It led me here, to this temple, so.”
She looks to the rainbow walls, to the bloody floor, to the corpse on the altar, and then back at you. “Is that how the Messiahs brought you into the fold?”
“I guess so.”
Juri leans in even closer. Her face painting is more elaborate than you ever thought imaginable: the layers of oil paint make the outline of the typical skull symbolism bolder than you have ever seen. Your own simple work is embarrassing in comparison. She has to notice that.
As she leans her head slightly to the left, her curls fall down around her face. “You guess so?” she repeats in the same introspective tone. You just shrug. “So I see.”
Slender fingers made for painting with both blood and oil grasp at your chin. She lifts your face upward. It’s not like when your moirail gently strokes at your face to get yourself settled after a particular rough night. Even for all Wakaba’s loudly shouted flushed words she didn’t try to force the issue. Does Juri do this with Miki? “Priestess, this is, uh…”
Himemiya’s blood is higher than yours but the way she acts you could swear she could be a rustblood tiptoeing around Her Imperiousness herself. Then she presses her lips against yours in a faint parody of matespritship. As you push her away you can feel the eyes of the seadweller narrow in your direction.
“That’s enough, Tenjou.”
Quick strokes make you fall silent. Juri moves her other hand to keep your head in place. You move to step backwards but she’s quicker. She kisses you clumsily. It’s all sharp fangs and sudden claws digging in. It doesn’t take long for your navy blood to start flowing down the sides of your face.
Wakaba leans against the wall with light green tears rolling down the sides of her face. She tries to hide it from you but you notice. You hold her, waiting for her sobs to go down.
You react without thinking. Your claws rake against her throat with incredible accuracy. She jumps back instantly with a hand at the thin lines of indigo. They’re barely scratches but you can still hear a low rumble of a growl forming.
Your fangs rub together when she speaks of the seadweller. You think of magenta blood pooling at your feet and of tearing into flesh. She doesn’t ask but you promise that you’ll make him pay.
“I respect Miki! I already said that he gave me no choice, Juri!” you snarl at her. “I know what it feels like when your moirail is injured but—!”
Juri lunges forward and you have to make a hasty retreat. Her eyes are colder than even the Sword of the Suffering God. “It shows your ignorance to say that you think this has anything to do with him, Tenjou.”
Indigo bloods are renowned for their sheer strength when angered. Your sweat is mixing with blood and oil making it drip down your face in rivulets. You manage to kick one of her knees. You don’t hear bone crack but it stops her charge. The moment is all you need: you kick higher at her gut.
She catches your foot. “You may be the champion of the Roses for now but remember your place to the rest of the Empire, Tenjou,” she says with cold fury. You can only stare at the Rose crest still on her finger when Juri sets her claws into the bare flesh of your lower leg. The flesh gives easily away and dark blue bruises form already.
Juri lets you go, hands stained with navy blue. You have to fall to your good knee before her; your other leg doesn’t hold any weight. “I’ve served the Messiahs with my whole soul—I haven’t done anything wrong!”
You ask him to surrender. He says that Himemiya would be better suited as his matesprit. You don’t look at the light blue on the Suffering God’s blade. He can’t move his arm. Himemiya doesn’t even seem to notice. You throw the blade down. It’s not his fault that the duel needed to be fought.
“Abdicate, Tenjou. You don’t want to fight in the duels? You disrespect the Messiahs with you blatant blasphemies. It’s a disgrace and I can’t allow it to happen any longer.”
You spit out the blood that’s accumulated in your mouth. “Duel me, Juri. If you want to cull me or transfer me out of Ohtori after that? Well, that’s your decision. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen,” you spit out your ultimatum.
Juri looks at you before walking backwards to the altar. “I will accept that. Get out before I change my mind.”
-
It takes you forever to return to the dormitory-hive that Himemiya and you share. Your leg protests with every step you take but you ignore it. It can heal later in the safety of the dormitory-hive. When you don’t find Himemiya right away it doesn’t matter. She never stays in the public part of the hive.
“Where is my Utena?!”
That explains that. You sigh. Wakaba must have come looking for you. Himemiya would have trouble with her if you didn’t say something. Well, not exactly trouble but probably have her ears talked off. You take a deep breath. “Hey, I’m down here, you two! Some welcoming committee!” you yell.
Wakaba finds you sitting on the steps leading up to the respiteblocks rubbing your injured leg. You hear her running footsteps before you see her. “Who did this to you, Utena?” she asks quickly as soon as she sees you.
“Just someone trying to be my kismesis. Wakaba, there’s no need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
You lean back into her arms. Her fingers dance over where Juri’s claws had dug into your face. It makes you wince but Wakaba gently hushes you. “She kept telling me that she didn’t know where you went but she’s your matesprit, right? She must have known something so I stayed here…Oh, Utena; you’re covered in so much blood. I didn’t think you’d ever find a kismesis!”
She wipes away dried navy blue away from your face. It doesn’t make you pull away. “I don’t have one,” you say. “Even after all this I don’t think I could hate them back.”
-
Victory is hard won. Your leg still gives you trouble but you couldn’t let the priestess beat you for a second time. Her sword and the Suffering God’s blade are both covered in blood. Himemiya watches the conclusion with her usual distance.
“The Circle of Officers is not going to stop these duels simply you continue to win,” she says. The intensity of her voice from before is still there even though her face is streaked with indigo.
You shake your head. “I’m not going to give up, Juri. The Messiahs have my back on this one.”
Her fangs flash once more. Himemiya walks up to you both. She lays a hand on your shoulder—just to indicate that you’re the winner, you guess. To Juri she inclines her head. “The Messiahs work in mysterious ways, priestess. Maybe you should listen to them again instead of repeating old words, yes?” HImemiya’s words are simply spoken.
“This incident is over for now.”