Chapter Text
Chida Mamiya is dead.
Anthy brings cuttings of deep blue morning glories to his family grave. The little bushel is small enough to sit safely in her cupped palms. She holds them close as she takes in the sight of the grave, its weathered but relatively clean headstone, small remains here and there of old flowers. It seems that someone still remembers Mamiya. Not many, but someone.
“You’re going to become him,” Akio told her this morning. “For a short time only, of course. It shouldn’t be a problem for someone like you. But you might find it tiresome.” He paused, looking somewhat amused. “ Mikage may be tiresome.”
Anthy didn’t share his amusement. Dealing with tiresome people is nothing new to her.
She knows a little about the boy— precious little. He died young, leaving behind a sister, Tokiko, and a researcher named Nemuro, who Akio now calls by another name. Mikage Souji. Like most things Akio says, the name has a cruel humor to it. And like most of his plans, he approaches this one with seemingly baseless confidence. When asked what sort of a person Mamiya was, Akio’s only answer was, “Mikage would do anything for him. That’s what’s important.” She should have known that he wouldn’t care to know the rest.
Even so, she felt compelled to track down his obituary— a brief paragraph or two nestled between a handful of names that only took up half a page of the newspaper that day. Unrelated, as far as anyone knew, to the hundred names that would soon dominate the papers for weeks. Unlike them, he would not be remembered.
Anthy isn’t sure what exactly it was that killed Mamiya, only that his obituary said that he had been sick nearly his whole life. He was her age when he died, just a few weeks shy of his fifteenth birthday. And his favorite thing to do had been to tend the roses.
Mamiya is survived, the obituary read, by his sister Tokiko, who will carry on tending the rose garden he loved so much.
Anthy wonders what sort of person could be happy with such a legacy. She can’t help but be fascinated with Mamiya, in her own way.
“Sorry they aren’t roses,” she says quietly, placing the morning glories like a kind of offering. As if they could make up for what she’s about to do. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
When Anthy returns, Akio doesn’t bother asking where she’s been. He hands her a photograph— no, a copy of a photograph. “It took me some time to track this down. Don’t lose it. I’d rather not have to ask for the original.”
Anthy gently smooths the careless creases from the photo. A young boy with a watering can smiles up at her, surrounded by roses. Backlit by sunlight, his face is somewhat obscured. Anthy could read almost anything she wanted in that soft smile.
“He wasn’t a duelist,” Anthy guesses more than asks.
“No. The system was… in its early stages, back then. There were no duelists.” Akio’s gaze flits to her just briefly, and then away. Anthy knows what he stopped himself from saying.
Mamiya was more like you.
An object of pity. Something to devote oneself to.
“…And Mikage?” Anthy asks.
Akio chuckles, low and derisive. “A failed prince, perhaps. He was in love with the sister, Tokiko. She wanted to save Mamiya, and so he did, too.”
Saving Mamiya from death itself sounds about as likely as… well. Never mind that. Still, Anthy can’t help a pang of irritation at Akio’s open mockery. She isn’t sure why.
“He still wants to save Mamiya,” Anthy guesses.
“Precisely. That’s why he’s remained here all this time.” He smiles drily, eyes tracking the path of a projected comet across the observatory ceiling. “He’s been a bit of a thorn in my side, you know. Alone, he isn’t as predictable as he used to be. But I think I know now what to do with him.”
Akio stands, crossing the room to pour himself a glass of wine. “If we play this right, we can deal with Mikage while setting the perfect stage for the final round of duels. What do you say, Anthy?”
Anthy stares at Mamiya’s photograph. Surrounded on all sides by tall rose bushes, he looks so small.
When Akio turns back to look at her, he looks as though he’s seen a ghost. Shock hitches a breath in his throat as he locks eyes with a young boy. His own eyes. Mamiya is the spitting image of Akio as a child.
It only takes a moment for Akio to smooth over his expression, but his voice is hard as he speaks. “…What’s this, Anthy?”
“All that matters is that Mamiya is someone that Mikage would do anything for,” Mamiya says quietly, in a voice that Anthy is surprised that she can even recall. “That’s all he remembers anymore.” She knows her brother reads the message loud and clear.
All I have to be is another pitiful child.
Akio stares long and hard at the boy, and Anthy isn’t sure who the hatred in his eye is meant for. She can’t help but feel some satisfaction either way.
“…Do as you please,” Akio finally says coolly. He takes a swig of his wine. “Just don’t fail.”
How rich of him to talk of failure.
The moment Anthy walks through the door to the dorm, Utena perks up. Despite being in her pajamas and halfway through brushing her hair, she seems to forget all about going to sleep.
“Oh, Himemiya, you’re back.”
“I am,” Anthy chirps.
Chuchu, who was sitting on Utena’s shoulder, suddenly leaps off to latch himself onto Anthy’s ankle, chuu -ing happily.
“I thought you were going to stay the night with your brother.”
Anthy just smiles. “Not tonight. He’s rather busy.”
“Oh… Well, he better be real busy, if he’s gonna cancel on his own sister like that,” Utena mumbles. “Think he’ll be too busy for me to come visit with you tomorrow?”
Anthy pauses. Even Chuchu goes quiet, his little cheek pressed into Anthy’s sock. After a moment, she bends down to scoop Chuchu into her hand and sets him on the dresser while she fetches her nightgown from the drawer.
“…No, probably not,” Anthy says lightly. “Not that there’s any rush.”
“W-Well, I guess not…” Utena picks up her hairbrush, sheepishly fiddling with the bristles. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude on you guys. I guess I’m just curious. Since you’re my friend, and all.”
“Have you ever been to Wakaba’s house, Utena-sama?”
“Well… no… But her house isn’t right on campus, you know?” Utena lets out a huff, putting the brush down and standing to grab the ladder to her bunk. Instead of climbing it, she plants a foot on one of the rungs and stretches her leg. “Hey, Himemiya, I know you’re the one who invited me, but if you changed your mind, it’s okay to say so. I don’t want us to go back to just…” Her eyes flit anxiously to Anthy, and then back down as she stretches her other leg. “Well, y’know.”
Anthy does know. Ever since she came back from Touga’s place, she’s seen something change in Utena. Fewer assumptions, more shy attempts at trying to encourage Anthy to speak her mind. Like most things, Anthy doesn’t know how to feel about it.
“…That’s nice of you,” she says quietly, relenting. “But it’s all right. You’re not intruding.”
You couldn’t possibly intrude. Not when I’m the one who dragged you into all this.
“Well… if you say so…” Utena still looks uncertain, but she lets the subject go for now. “Hey, Himemiya, guess what Wakaba told me at lunch?”
And so they pass the evening talking and laughing and watching late night soaps together until Utena finally wears herself out and climbs into bed. She stayed up later than usual tonight. She was too happy to see Anthy to sleep.
Anthy missed this, she realizes. The thought weighs heavily in the pit of her stomach.
Anthy waits until she can hear Utena’s soft snores from above to slip out of the dorm into the night. Ohtori looks so different to her after dark, with no sun to cast shadows and no people to make anything out of them. When she spots the ruins of the Nemuro Memorial Hall, nothing about it seems out of place. It may be the only structure on campus that can be seen for what it truly is.
She isn’t exactly sure how to find this man, Mikage. She isn’t even sure what she’s looking for. So she wanders the rubble for some time, oddly hesitant to call out and break the silence. What would she even say?
You should leave this place, is what she’d like to say. You should have left a long time ago .
As if she doesn’t know all too well what tethers him to these ruins.
And then she sees it— a shadow, standing beside her own. Short and slender and utterly strange. She turns on her heel, startled, and finds… a boy.
The professor was just a boy.
For a moment, they stare at one another, each unsure what to make of the other or of themselves. Mikage’s expression is strange, like that of a lost child. Anthy supposes that’s exactly what he is. He searches her face as if for some sort of answer. And then, suddenly, his expression clears.
Anthy feels a cold thrill as she watches him suddenly solidify into something far too real. Mikage’s features soften like clay in warm hands as he looks at her— no, not at her.
“Mamiya,” he breathes, and the way he says that name tells Anthy everything.
A butterfly flies past her face, causing her to flinch and wave a hand over her eyes. When she looks again, they’re no longer standing in a ruin, but a dark hallway, with walls covered from end to end in picture frames.
“Mamiya…” Mikage reaches out a hand, cupping Mamiya’s cheek. “You did the right thing.”
Anthy can see fire reflected in the glass, the way the light flickers and spits, and she suddenly understands. Mamiya’s shadow clutches a candelabra.
“…I know,” Mamiya says, closing his eyes and leaning into Mikage’s touch. “I trust you.”
The words come with unexpected sincerity. Playing this part is strangely easy.
“I’m sorry…” Mikage’s voice is quiet and reserved, but Anthy feels his hand twitch on Mamiya’s cheek, as if pricked by needles, by the barest points of blades. “I won’t let it be for nothing. I swear to you.”
“What will you do?” Mamiya whispers.
For a moment, uncertainty flickers in Mikage’s eyes. He searches Mamiya’s face again as if for answers. What can be done, Anthy wonders? Why does Akio expect him to duel? Not even the power behind those castle doors could heal Mamiya’s body, nor raise him from the dead. The eternity it grants is not so kind.
Ah…
The moment the realization strikes her, it seems to strike Mikage too. His expression closes off, becomes heavy and masked. He lets his hand fall from Mamiya’s cheek, suddenly businesslike. There’s an echo of the professor in the way he says it so plainly:
“I will make you the Rose Bride.”
The creaking of swords fills Anthy’s ears, hateful whispers and groans and screams. Witch. Witch. Witch.
Against her better judgment, she asks— Mamiya asks— “Is that such a good idea?”
Mikage frowns. He’s more difficult to read than Anthy initially thought. Is that hurt in his eyes? Hesitation? Confusion? She can’t tell. Perhaps he isn’t sure, either.
But then his expression softens, just slightly. “Are you afraid, Mamiya?”
“No,” Mamiya says, so bluntly that it seems to take Mikage by surprise. But it’s true. Anthy isn’t afraid. She resigns herself as quickly as she always has. “I understand. It’s all for my sake, after all.”
Mikage reaches out and takes Mamiya’s hands in his own. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs.
Anthy is shocked to find that he’s right. Mamiya’s hands are unsteady. How strange. There’s no reason for her to feel afraid. It’s just that…
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Utena looking at her through a picture frame, with that same look in her eyes that Mikage has for Mamiya.
Reflected flames swallow Utena whole, and Mamiya trembles in Mikage’s arms as faint laughter rings through the hall. A hundred voices laughing at the foolish hero.
“I won’t let any harm come to you,” Mikage assures Mamiya.
But Chida Mamiya is dead. It isn’t him that Anthy fears for.