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She is Beatrice, niece of the governor of Messina, full of fire, and blessed with a wit as keen as a sharpened blade. All eyes are on her as the merry war of words with her great rival, Benedick, is coming to a conclusion. In her hands is a paper stolen from Benedick on which is scrawled a halting love sonnet he attempted to compose a short while earlier. In his grasp is a similar one written in her own hand.
They peer down at the faltering sonnets, smiling. When Benedick looks up, his eyes are sparkling and his smile is wider than ever. "A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts. Come," he says to her wryly, tipping the soldier's cap that hides his blond hair, "I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity."
She tosses her hair in an exaggerated fashion and lets out a loud huff before taking the hand he's held out to her. "I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption."
Benedick laughs because she's smiling even through her protests. "Peace! I will stop your mouth."
And it's only because she's a consummate professional that Maya Tendou manages to stay in character when Benedick's soft hands cup her face to pull her closer and those familiar lips meet hers. Because she is a professional, she remembers that it's Beatrice kissing her rival and match, Benedick—not Claudine Saijou.
It's just as well she has no further lines, though, because each and every time they've performed this scene, that kiss has taken her breath away.
The final lines are spoken, the music rises, and the curtain falls. The cast and crew congratulate each other on this, their successful final performance, before scattering to remove their makeup and costumes. Only then in the privacy of their dressing room does Benedick loosen his jerkin, pull off his cap, letting long blond locks fall free, and become Claudine once more.
Maya watches, captivated. "You were brilliant tonight."
Claudine grins wickedly even as she peels the fake beard off her chin. "I must have been. You were almost swooning in my arms there at the end."
When auditions had opened for Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing they'd both tried for the part of Beatrice. When they'd received callbacks, however, Claudine had been asked to read for Benedick against Maya's Beatrice. It probably hadn't hurt that their relationship was the theatre community's worst-kept secret. But truly it was such a rare pleasure to be on the same stage again—and in the same country. Since they'd graduated they'd hardly been in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time even once they'd become a couple.
Maya, still in her stage dress, offers a curtsy. "I swooned only as much as the role called for."
"Is that so?" Claudine's eyes narrow. As she steps towards Maya, she has that determined—not to say obstinate—look she often wore at Seishou when watching Maya train. "Then perhaps we need an encore performance."
Her mouth crashes against Maya's, her body pressing her into the wall. This is nothing like the kiss on stage; it's electric and demanding, nipping teeth and dancing tongue. And oh this does more than take Maya's breath away. It sets her skin on fire, her blood roiling. It reminds her of the wild flame that is at the heart of Claudine, a fire that drives her on to greater auditions and brighter stages, blazing brightly to claim a role—or to claim her. And bathed in the heat of that flame, Maya is happy to be consumed.
Claudine pulls back, looking smug, but Maya isn't ready to let her go. She reaches out to cup Claudine's face. "Marry me."
For a moment Claudine stares, blinking in surprise before she speaks again. "Are you trying to take Benedick's lines now too?"
"It's not a line." Maya's voice is calm, even though her pulse is stuttering like a Seishou first year who's forgotten her cue.
Claudine goes still. "Mon Dieu. I can't tell if you're serious or…"
"Hand me my jacket," Maya says, jutting her chin towards the coat rack at Claudine's elbow. This only further confuses Claudine but Maya holds out her hand for the jacket and Claudine complies. Maya spends a moment rifling through the pockets before she produces a small velvet box. She offers it to Claudine. "I'm serious."
There's a moment of taut silence as Claudine stares at the box, eyes wide, cheeks growing pinker by the second. Then she reaches out and plucks it from Maya's grasp. She cracks it open to reveal a simple gold band with a tiny glittering diamond. Claudine's eyes go wide even though the diamond is by no means the brightest shine in the room. No, nothing could outshine Claudine, not the lights of the stage, not the twinkling stars, not a simple cut and polished gem.
"I planned to wait until the production had finished its run," Maya says to fill to silence. "And now… I can't wait any longer." When Claudine looks up to meet Maya's gaze, she still seems a bit stunned. She opens her mouth but no sounds comes out. Maya wraps a hand around her waist and draws her in again. "I want everyone to know that you're mine. And that I'm yours—that I belong to you and you alone."
That finally earns a crooked smile from Claudine. "Still so greedy. What will be left for my adoring public?"
"They can have the star of the stage—and all the brilliance you shine on them," she says, fingers stroking the line of Claudine's jaw, "but I want the stage girl, the one who rehearses longer, trains harder, the one who fights for every role."
"Such flattery." Claudine tilts her chin up. "But I see right through you, Maya Tendou."
"You always do. And I will never stop loving you for it." She leans closer to whisper in her ear. "My trial. My temptation. Épouse-moi, Claudine. Ma Claudine."
Claudine succumbs, burying her face in Maya's neck. "Oui! Bien sûr!" Her arms wrap themselves around Maya, clutching her like she's the only thing holding her up in this moment.
Maya holds her tight. The stage and Claudine: the two things she needs above all else and tonight they are both hers.
***
Foot tapping the apartment floor, Maya stares at her laptop screen, waiting for the call to come through. It's already late. After the call it will be bedtime for her, while Claudine will still have half the day ahead of her. It's an eight hour difference between Paris and Tokyo, though they're used it to by now.
Finally Claudine's image appears on screen against the familiar backdrop of her bedroom wall, with its single framed image from a recent Globe Theatre production of Doctor Faustus. "Good evening, ma chère," Claudine greets her, her expression completely calm and composed though Maya is anxious for news.
"Good evening yourself. Have you heard back yet?"
Claudine waits a beat, leaving Maya in suspense, before she allows a smile to grace her lovely features. "Yes. Just a few moments ago."
"And?"
"And I will be playing Jeanne."
Maya's heart surges at the news almost as if it was she herself who'd snagged the starring role. Being the lead in Sainte Jeanne, the French version of George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan, performed in Paris, is a coup. "Congratulations! I can see you as the ideal Joan of Arc. I already know how well you swing a sword."
There's a flush rising in Claudine's cheeks at the praise. They've known each other what? Seven years now? And yet she's still not immune to Maya's compliments—and Maya is happy to take advantage of the fact.
Claudine gives a little toss of her hair. "Apparently the director was of the same mind as you. If not entirely for the same reasons," she adds with a coy smile.
Maya groans. "I wish I were there so we could celebrate." A nice dinner. A walk through Paris, over its beautiful stone bridges. And then back to the tiny apartment where she would press her mouth to Claudine's, run her hands along every curve of her slim body, and strip away everything that lay between them, everything that separated them, until there was nothing but bared skin and the truth of who they were when there was no audience but each other.
"A rain check, then." Claudine blows her a kiss and Maya finds herself smiling widely—perhaps a bit foolishly. Claudine has that effect on her. She's the only one who can ever make Maya lose her composure. To all the rest of the world Maya Tendou is serene, above all the hustle and bustle, reserving displays of emotion for when she's on stage—when she's portraying someone else's emotions.
"So where does that leave our schedule?"
On the screen, Claudine's eyes shift away from Maya as she pulls up another program on her laptop. "Rehearsals begin in May."
"Ah. So I guess June is off the table then," Maya says with a wince, though she does her best to hide any further sign of disappointment. They had originally talked about April but then Claudine had a part in the spring so then June had been proposed. Now that too is out of the question. Of course Claudine's accomplishments are something Maya is proud of… even if it means further delaying the wedding.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." She pauses and checks her calendar again. "And performances go through… July."
"Right when I start rehearsing for Le Cid,"
Claudine pounds a fist against her chest. "Rodrigue, a-tu du coeur?"
Maya's lips twitch at Claudine's delivery of the play's most famous line. She won't be performing it in French so she'll have to redouble her efforts to convey the emotions in translation, a tale of honour and love at odds, a son forced to choose between duty to his father and the woman he loves. "I can come for a few days in June."
Claudine's eyes are still scanning her calendar. "And I expect I can visit in August, but we need more than a few days for the wedding if we wish to have anyone in attendance."
"I know." Maya sighs. "Le Cid is done in October but we both know we'll be busy in the fall with December programs. That pushes it back to January or February, doesn't it?"
Claudine's hands dance over the keyboard for a minute before she agrees. "I suppose it does. At least that will make it more likely that our friends can attend."
Picking a week when a gaggle of stagegirls were all free to descend upon Paris for a wedding was a monumental feat and there was a good chance someone wouldn't be able to make it because they were bound by a stage commitment. But at least the long wait would give them a chance to plan. It would be simpler if they could hold the ceremony in Tokyo so that only a few of them would have to travel, but that was impossible for obvious legal reasons. So a Paris wedding in winter is what it would be.
***
Paris is lovely in June and they spend their days off window shopping, staring at wedding dresses from haute-couture boutiques they cannot possibly afford, and picking out modest ones that they can. Maya attends one of Claudine's shows and watches Joan of Arc become the saviour of France. The performance is beautiful. Claudine commands the audience's attention in every scene. She embodies the saint's boldness, the depth of her faith in her god and her mission, right until the end, immolated on the stage in a final blaze of glory. Maya is enraptured, but the shimmering stage effects that frame the saint in flames pale against the raging fire that is at the heart of her Claudine.
At night, curled up together, skin against skin, Maya yearns for a life where Claudine is hers every night, where she wakes up to her every morning. But that would mean choosing between the two great loves of her life: the stage and Claudine, and neither of them would be whole without the bright lights of the stage. They’re the same age, the same gender, have the same training; whenever they're in the same place for any length of time they end up vying for roles. Sharing the stage as they were able to in Much Ado About Nothing is the rare exception.
They said once that their rivalry would be eternal. As she lies there in the dark, the sound of Claudine's breathing close against her ear, Maya thinks that her vows are the only things she has to offer in order to affirm her devotion to Claudine and to their dream.
***
Maya is reviewing the staging details for Le Cid when her cell chimes the ominous opening notes of "Siegfried's Funeral March" from Wagner's Ring cycle. She sighs and answers. "Hello, father."
"Maya, what's this I hear about the wedding being delayed again?"
Her lips thin to a line. She's been expecting this ever since she sent the email. "Just by a few weeks." She keeps her tone light.
"I hope you know what you're doing settling on someone so inconstant."
She returns to Le Cid, eyes scanning the stage crew's notes. It's a minimalist set and a good deal will be done with the lighting and costumes, but it will be up to the cast to carry the performance—just how she likes it. The flash of Broadway musicals is delightful but it can distract from the performers if not managed right. And when she is on stage she wants all eyes on her. "As I said in the message, Claudine was cast in Le Rouge et le Noir next winter and the dates were extended into February." It was a singing role, which Claudine had been chasing all year after her string of stage-plays. "Claudine's not inconstant, father. She's busy and ambitious."
"As are you, Maya." There's a huff of breath that make his disapproval obvious without a single word falling from his lips. He is, after all, a great actor; he conveys precisely what he wishes to with every gesture, every breath. "You've worked too hard to let this little ingénue of yours show you up."
She sets the notes aside to open her copy of the script which is criss-crossed with her own neat notations and questions. "We're not even performing on the same continent, father."
"You're missing the point. If she's too busy for this wedding, why aren't you?"
She wants to reply that it's because the New National Opera Company's schedule is very different from that of the Théatre de Flamme but it isn't worth the trouble. The speech will be the same either way so, instead, she flips through the script as he talks.
"You've had some early successes, Maya, I'll grant you that. But not one in a thousand young stars will make a career of it. It is only through constant work and heroic effort that success can be achieved. You must give your all ever day to reach those lofty heights."
"I'm aware, father," she says before he can ask if she's listening to him. Not that she needs to; she's heard some variation of this speech over and over since childhood. Back then the rising note of his baritone stirred something in her, a yearning like Odysseus's "to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield". But now it falls flat. A performance repeated one too many times with no heart left in it. Now she sees it for what it is: a condemnation. Nothing she achieves will ever be enough. No stage bright enough, no role grand enough. She can embody all of Shakespeare's heroines, the noble princesses of Kabuki theatre, the bright-eyed ambitious leads of Broadway musicals who are determined to defy gravity—none of it will ever make her shine in the eyes of her father.
But Claudine, Claudine shines for her, brighter than the sun and the stars. As, she hopes, she does for Claudine.
***
In spite of some glitches during technical rehearsals, the opening performance of Le Cid is a resounding success. To celebrate, the cast congregates at a tiny cocktail bar and toasts to their continued success. One of her co-stars, Aiko Watanabe, takes the stool next to hers, scooting it a little closer than seems strictly necessary. Her large brown eyes are always shining and mirthful outside of rehearsals and performances. The bartender comes and takes their orders one by one. When he comes to Aiko, she ducks her head and says, very quietly, "I'll have a… 'Between the Sheets' please," and then turns to wink at Maya.
Maya orders a "French Connection," and smiles placidly.
Nearly everyone knows that she's with Claudine, that she's been with Claudine for years. Maya isn't shy about talking about her, the plays she's in, the funny mishaps during rehearsals, or that time the fire alarm went off in the middle of Molière's Don Juan and the audience thought it was part of the show. Her stage compatriots though come in all sorts. Some are quiet, staid spouses who save their passionate energy for their stage work and then go home to their familiar partners. Others are constantly involved in whirlwind romances that occasionally lead to more drama backstage than onstage.
Even so, she's not surprised when, at the end of the night, Aiko slides a hand over hers and leans in. "We should do this again sometime. Just the two of us. What do you think?"
Maya offers an apologetic smile. "Ah I'm flattered, but as it happens I'm already taken."
Aiko heaves a dramatic sigh. "All the good ones are. But look me up if you're ever… less taken."
***
It's after 3 a.m. when Maya uses her key and lets herself into Claudine's apartment, her suitcase in tow and a case of jet lag setting her stomach rumbling as her internal clock announces that it's long past breakfast time. She finds Claudine curled up on the couch in the front room, blinking blearily at her. "You're here," she murmurs.
Maya leaves the suitcase at the entrance and takes the handful of steps to the couch. "Ma chère, I told you not to wait up for me." Her plane, which was supposed to arrive at the more reasonable hour of 10 p.m. local time, had been delayed for nearly four hours.
Claudine straightens up and gives a firm shake of her head. "As you can see I did not."
"Oh?" Maya says, lips twitching. "And do you normally sleep on the couch when I'm not here?"
"How can you be so infuriating at such an hour?"
Maya sits down on the couch next to Claudine. "Naturally, I put in long hours of practice to perfect my technique."
The retort she expects never comes. Instead, Claudine's lips are on hers, her hands grasping at Maya's shirt, dragging her closer. There's something needy, almost desperate in the way Claudine is kissing her, something that seems like more than these latest months of separation. And though Maya is weary from her fourteen-hour flight, she can't say no to those lips.
Claudine's fingers dig into her shoulders, grasping at her like talons. Between kisses, Maya draws back a hair's breadth to ask, "Is everything all right? Did something happen?"
"Tu m'as manqués, c'est tout."
"I missed you too," Maya whispers, though concern gnaws at her insides. It's only a few days until the wedding. If something's gone wrong then there's precious little time to mend it. But her thoughts grow hazy as Claudine's lips travel down her jaw, her throat, her collar bone. Claudine's hands never stop wandering and Maya never really wants them to.
***
"Oh it’s cool! It's like a rusty version of Tokyo Tower!" Karen's eyes are wide as she stares up at Paris's most famous landmark.
Hikari shakes her head with obvious exasperation. "It's not rusty. It's covered in bronze paint."
"To protect it from the elements," Mahiru adds.
"That's right," Junna says. "Over its history, the Eiffel Tower has been several colours: brown, ochre, chestnut, and now bronze."
Futaba is craning her neck to peer up at the steel structure. "Can we go up already? You have your ticket, Kaoruko?"
"Of course I do." Kaoruko pouts but takes Futaba's arm anyway.
Nana stands a few paces away, smiling at them all and then glances back at Maya and Claudine. "It was good of you to suggest this. I'm sure it's a bit touristy for you but it looks like everyone is having fun."
Claudine shakes her head. "Of course. I want you to enjoy Paris. I know it's the first time for many of you."
"The city of love," Nana says with a wink before she moves to rejoin the others.
Maya hangs back. They bought their tickets online ahead of time of course, but there's still a physical ticket booth and next to it a board advertising more tourist attractions. Her attention is arrested by the poster for "Park Odyssée". The letters are printed in bold blue and red and the neck and head of a giraffe punctures the "O".
Claudine catches her looking. "It's a zoo about an hour outside of Paris. I hope you weren't planning a surprise field trip."
"No. I was thinking of something else."
"About work?"
Maya raises an eyebrow as she turns to face Claudine. "What makes you say that?"
"I saw the script as you were unpacking. Why didn't you tell me?"
Tamping down hard on a flurry of conflicting emotions, Maya offers a genial smile. "I haven't decided yet if I'm going to audition." This isn't a discussion she wants to have here, at the foot of the Eiffel Tower with all their friends chattering and laughing a few feet away.
Not one to conceal her emotions, Claudine's shock and outrage are written plainly on her features. "You're not sure if you're auditioning for the The Last Odyssey? It's the most popular musical of the past year and this is the first Japanese production, isn't it?"
"It is. But I'm not sure it's a good fit," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Claudine scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've never known Maya Tendou to back down from a challenge."
Maya meets her stare for stare. "It's not a challenge, it's—"
"Come on, you two! It's time to go up!" Karen calls, pointing at the lift that will take them to viewing gallery at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Their gazes remain locked for a moment longer before Maya turns and waves to Karen with a smile. "Coming."
Claudine huffs and follows her.
They join their friends in the line to have their tickets checked. Maya can feel Claudine seething next to her. When they were at Seishou, it never bothered her much; she knew Claudine's occasional prickliness was driven by her competitiveness. But this is different. Claudine is cross today because under the scrutiny of those familiar eyes Maya is as translucent as polished glass. She always has been with Claudine.
Their friends crowd into the elevator with the handful of tourists booked for the same time slot. Claudine hovers at the door and Maya catches her gaze again, nodding towards the elevator. They can sort this out later, without an audience. They step into the lift together. The doors close.
The lights flicker out. When they come back on, they are alone in the lift.
A pair of short pelisse jackets hang from the ceiling. They're different than the ones they've worn in the past: the colours are reversed, white fabric with a fur ruff dyed crimson. The golden star button on the corner of each cloak is unmistakeable.
"Merde," Claudine mutters.
But Maya, who's just been reminded that she never backs down from a challenge, reaches for the pelisse.
The lights go out again. And then she is onstage once more, bathing in the heat of a single spotlight. At the other end of the stage stands Claudine, similarly illuminated. She is covered head to toe in shimmering armour that Maya recognises from her performance as Joan of Arc. Maya too is in costume, though not one she's worn before—a bronze cuirass covers her chest and on her head is a helmet with a horsehair plume. She's holding a spear instead of a sword.
Before either can give voice to their confusion, a deep, familiar baritone rings through the auditorium. "Welcome back to the stage, Maya Tendou and Claudine Saijou." They both turn to see the same giraffe who presided over their past revues, its emerald eyes as fathomless and strange as they had ever been at Seishou.
Claudine raises her sword and points it at the giraffe. "What is the meaning of this? Why are we here?"
"To perform, of course."
Maya's eyes narrow. "To perform what?"
"The Revue of Vows." Its voice echoes through the air and seems to hang there in the silence that follows.
Claudine looks furious as she glares at the giraffe where it stands in the audience section. "What will this accomplish? We're getting married tomorrow."
The giraffe's voice is perfectly calm. "If a stage girl is wedded to the stage then what remains for you to offer each other?"
Standing across from one another in their respective spotlights, separated by the murky darkness of the unlit stage, they stare at each other.
The lights come on, revealing the stage set, on Claudine's side a stake, flames burning at its base just as in the final scene of Sainte Jeanne, and on Maya's the tattered sails of Odysseus's ship. There's a moment's stillness and Maya, gripping her spear, wonders what this revue is meant to prove. Is she meant to choose between her two loves, between her passion and her partner? Or is she meant to affirm that their rivalry continues even as they plan to speak their vows? If the giraffe understands he doesn't say so and Maya certainly does not. But she's a stage girl and when the lights are shining on the stage and she's standing atop it, what else can she do but play her part?
Maya rushes forward, brandishing her spear. Sword drawn, Claudine charges. They meet at the centre of the stage, at the intersection of the two sets, in a clatter of blades. Claudine strikes; Maya deflects. Maya swings the spear in a wide arc, driving Claudine back.
Claudine points her sword at Maya. "Wily Odysseus, hero of the Trojan War, most cunning of all Greeks. Is that who's on this stage today?"
A decorative twirl of the deadly spear is Maya's reply before she strikes again. "Who else would I be?" Clutching her sword in a two-handed grip, Claudine, bats the spear away, grunting with effort.
"Give a hero a trial," Claudine says, echoing their battle from years ago. "But what of the hero who turns down his trial?"
Anger scalds through her along with the bitter tang of shame. Claudine's words strike home even when her sword does not. "That trial isn't what you think," she says through gritted teeth. Her blow is like lightning, quick and powerful, and Claudine only dodges the spear-point by a hair's breadth, stumbling back, falling. Maya looms over her, spear-tip pointed down at her body. "And what of you, Saint Joan? What will be left of you when you have no more temptations to drive you onward? Will you let yourself be immolated on the stage, your work complete?"
Claudine's blade comes up and around in a flash, driving back Maya's weapon, and then she's on her feet again. Her eyes are glistening. "I will fight you to the very last." She lashes out, a flurry of rapid strikes that Maya must block with the haft of her spear. "I will fight for every word, every breath, every step. I will never falter!" Her sword crashes against Maya's spear haft. "So why do you?" The haft shatters.
Its shards hang in the air, a brilliant spray of stage effects that glitter around Maya, obscuring her for a moment. When she reappears, she is kneeling. She has no weapon, no armour. She is no longer in the garb of Odysseus, but dons a red chiton, the dress of an ancient Greek lady, her golden star still sitting on her shoulder. Maya hangs her head. "Perhaps I'm no longer a hero then."
"Then who is it," Claudine says softly, "that's on the stage with me today?"
Maya rises. "Faithful Penelope, Queen of Ithica, wife of Odysseus." The spear is gone but a jeweled dagger has appeared in her hands. "Always waiting for her love to return to her." Doubt flickers across Claudine's face, and it's an expression so alien to her features that Maya is momentarily taken aback.
"You were… waiting?" The sword trembles in Claudine's hand.
Maya takes a step forward. "Of course I was waiting."
Claudine shakes her head. "I was trying to catch up to you, to be the rival I promised I would always be."
"When were you not?"
The stage lights dim and a spotlight blares to life on a cardboard cutout in the shape of a cluster of girls. They whisper none-too-quietly.
"Why does she get to play Benedick?"
"I know! I've been with this company for three years and she just flies in from France and gets to be the lead?"
"I heard she only got the part because she's sleeping with Maya Tendou." The echo of their giggles looms large and loud.
When the lights return to the leads, Claudine's face is a brilliant crimson but her sword is clasped tightly in her hand. Maya lunges forward with her dagger. They clash, as they always have. "I see that your temptation is believing such drivel," Maya says.
A haughty sniff from Claudine. "It's not temptation but a trial." The stage is black for an instant. When the lights return Claudine is now in the bronze cuirasse and helmet Maya had donned earlier, though she still clutches a sword.
Maya lunges, snagging her sword arm, keeping them locked close where Claudine's longer blade is of no use to her. "Then tell me of your trials, Odysseus. The ones that have kept you so long from your island home and the woman waiting there for you."
They grapple, grunting as they struggle for leverage, for something that will end the stalemate. "Every time I hear about you," Claudine says, her arms straining to keep Maya at bay, "it's someone singing your praises and then laughing at how you have to chase away your suitors." She glowers at Maya. "If someone is always throwing themselves at you then how can I face you before I've become the hero worthy of Faithful Penelope?"
Maya laughs. She can't help it. That Claudine, her Claudine, the only one who's ever been able to keep up with her, the only one who can urge her on to greater heights, should worry about such a thing is so entirely absurd. Especially now when she shines every bit as bright as Maya herself, when she captures every stage she sets her eyes on.
"What's… so… funny?" Claudine says, huffing as she gives a mighty shove and pushes Maya away.
"I'm the one who should worry about your suitors." She jabs at the air with the dagger while Claudine stares at her, mouth agape. "What will you do when you surpass me, when you realize you're no longer the moon but the sun itself?"
Claudine's face is flushed, not with shame this time, Maya is certain, but with ire. It drips from her voice like venom. "Do you truly doubt me?"
Maya shakes her head. "No. That's what's funny. For the first time… I doubt myself."
Scene change. The lights dim. The stage shifts around them. When the lights rise again, they are no longer Odysseus and Penelope, but are garbed instead in the military jackets of the revues, though today theirs are white. The only colour is the red trim of their cloaks, the golden star on their shoulders, and the golden hilts of their swords. The set around them is all white columns festooned with roses, arranged to form an aisle. A rose-covered trellis arch sits at the far end of the aisle.
Claudine doesn't wait. She runs at Maya, sword at the ready. "What are you talking about? You have the Last Odyssey audition. It's not even an open audition."
Maya doesn't hesitate. Her sword meets Claudine's and showers them with sparks. "I didn't earn it."
Claudine's blows come quick and hard, the sound of metal against metal a familiar tune to their ears. "I don't understand."
"My father is a friend of the director. He arranged it. He thinks…" She strikes wildly, with all her might. Claudine grips her sword in both hands to fend her off. "That you're showing me up."
A bark of laughter escapes Claudine. "Quelle bêtise! I've never heard anything so absurd."
Maya's sword grates along the length of Claudine's. "Is it any more absurd than your having to catch up to me? Now? After all these years?"
Teeth gritted, Claudine holds her at bay. They break apart and lunge again and again. "And what about all your jealousy, Maya Tendou?" Claudine's strikes are fast and precise and it requires all Maya's concentration to block and riposte. "Are you going to try to convince me you're no longer greedy for the spotlight?"
Her lips part in a wide grin. "Oh I'm still greedy for it." She parries another blow, and Claudine's form is perfect; she offers counter for counter, matching Maya in every gesture. "But I'm just as greedy… for you." Claudine's eyes widen and she falters for a moment. Maya presses her advantage. "You're the only one I want to share the stage with."
"Share the stage?" Claudine repeats, falling back, just barely keeping Maya at bay.
"When we performed Much Ado About Nothing, I was so happy. Happy to finally be on the same stage with you again. To stand in the same spotlight. I thought…" She's too slow; her strike misses the mark and she lurches forward. She has to lunge to the side to avoid Claudine's blade and the loss of her star. She rights herself and raises her blade to face Claudine. "I thought you were happy too."
Claudine hangs back for a moment. "I was. I am." Her eyes are wet and her voice is taut with emotion as she speaks. "I love you, Maya, but if we're not rivals, then what?"
As in all her revues with Claudine, Maya reaches that moment when she feels everything fall away—the expectations, the masks, the yearning—everything except for Claudine, those bright eyes and that determined set of her jaw she so loves. Maya smiles. "Equals?"
A quick intake of breath as Claudine's eyes widen, her face flushes. She nods. "Equals," she says softly.
In perfect time, they each raise their sword in salute. When they speak, they speak in chorus. "Give a hero a trial." Their swords dip; they take position. "Give a saint temptation." They lunge at each other one final time. "And for myself…" They clash. "You!"
Together, both stars clink to the marble floor. The white cloaks flutter free.
The lights drop. "I understand." The familiar baritone fills the air. "This ends the Revue of Vows."
The lift doors slide open, flooding the compartment with light and revealing the top floor of the Eiffel tower. The crowd of tourists pours out until, at the very back, Maya and Claudine are all that's left. They share a quiet smile as Maya holds out her hand. Claudine takes it and they exit the lift together into the bright sunlight of the Paris morning.
Their friends are soon at the railing, admiring the view of the Champs de Mars, the Seine, the Sacré Coeur Basilica, and all 360 degrees of Paris. They hang back and Claudine squeezes her hand. "I think you should take the audition for The Last Odyssey."
"But—"
Claudine puts a finger to Maya's lips to stop her protests. "You got the audition because of your father. So what? I get auditions sometimes because of connections from my childhood acting. We have advantages others don't, that's true. But once you're there it's your own skill that grants you the part. Nothing else."
Maya lets out a thoughtful hum. "Maybe you're right."
Claudine huffs. "There is no maybe about it." And then, more gently, "But perhaps you should try for a different part. You'd make an excellent Athena."
A sly smile curls Maya's lips. "You think I'm the goddess of wisdom?"
Claudine's nose wrinkles. "I was thinking more of warfare."
"Also weaving," Maya adds as she tugs Claudine along towards the railing.
"Have you ever woven anything?"
"I've never tried." Maya offers her cockiest smile. "But I'm confident."
Claudine rolls her eyes. "Ma chère, tu es pleine de merde."
Maya laughs. And because this is, after all, the very top of the city of love, she leans in and presses her lips to Claudine's.
After the previous day's events, the hustle and bustle of the wedding day itself is easily managed. After all, Karen being unable to find her dress shoes and a sudden downpour right before the ceremony are small trials compared to a revue.
They've reserved the charmingly cobbled courtyard of a restaurant named Mon Panache for the ceremony (they were both delighted by its reference to Cyrano's de Bergerac's famous final line). With only their parents and their closest friends from Seishou in attendance, the space is comfortably cozy. Also in attendance is, of course, the celebrant and a translator since the celebrant does not speak Japanese and most of their guests do not speak French. An acquaintance of Claudine's who's an amateur photographer waits on the sidelines to capture the moment.
Through the glass doors to the courtyard, Maya can see the guests getting settled. She is already donning her dress, a silky white gown with lace accents, but much less elaborate than most of the costumes she wears on the stage. Her hair is braided into a long tail woven with violets and hanging down her back.
As she waits for Claudine to join her, she takes deep, calming breaths just as she would before a performance. And this is, after all, a kind of performance, a ritual to affirm their relationship before those closest to them. It changes very little between the two of them; as far as Maya is concerned they spoke their vows long ago and repeated them at yesterday's revue
Claudine finally steps into view. Maya's heart bounds.
Her hair is tied up in an elaborate chignon which leaves the graceful line of her neck and her bare shoulders in full view. Her dress, though simple, falls perfectly around the curves of her body and tumbles into a wave around her ankles like frothy seafoam.
For a moment they stand and stare.
Maya holds out her hands. Claudine steps forward and takes them in hers. Her face is flushed and her smile is wide. "You look beautiful, ma Maya."
Maya lets her happy smile turn into something slightly impish. "I always look beautiful." And then, raising Claudine's hands to her lips, "But you, you look radiant."
"Must you win even at compliments? It isn't a competition," Claudine says but she's blinking rapidly and has to reclaim her hands to dab at her eyes.
Her lips twitch at those words coming from Claudine. "We did once declare our rivalry as eternal. Perhaps that's why we got such special treatment yesterday," she says thoughtfully. "Do you think our friends will have to face revues before they get married?"
Claudine casts a doubtful glance towards the courtyard. "Would they tell us?"
Maya chuckles. "I think Karen for one would have trouble keeping it to herself."
"Ça, c'est vrai," Claudine agrees.
"But let's hope we don't have to settle all our disagreements at swordpoint, hm?"
Claudine tilts her chin up. "Only the important ones."
Maya laughs and presses her hand to her lips again. "Toujours, ma Claudine."
The photographer taps on the door to let them know it's time. Maya's heart patters a bit uncomfortably but she reminds herself that this is her stage—no, their stage, and they will shine today as they always do. She glances at Claudine and sees the same resolve and the same shine in her eyes. Maya intertwines their fingers and, together, they stride onto their stage.
It's a short walk to the celebrant, but they smile all the way as their friends watch them glide past and the photographer takes a flurry of shots. They come to a halt before the celebrant who proceeds to read through the formalities of the marriage agreement, pausing occasionally to allow the translator to repeat the text in Japanese. He then announces that they've opted to include the traditional Japanese ceremony of San San Kudo.
Futaba had been chosen to assist them with the ritual so she rises and brings the sake and three stacked ceremonial sake cups, the set that Claudine's parents had received at their wedding. The red lacquerware sake cups, similar in appearance to shallow dipping bowls, are soon filled with sake, brought from Japan by Maya's parents. Futaba offers them in turn to Maya, who sips from each three times, and then to Claudine who does the same. Maya keeps her expressions serene through the proceedings, though the taste of the sake is astringent on her tongue. Futaba then offers the sake to Maya's parents, who repeat the ritual, and finally to Claudine's, who sip and complete it.
There's applause from the audience since this typically marks the end of a traditional ceremony but there are formalities to satisfy the Republic of France. As the celebrant reminds them, they must exchange rings and vows. Maya and Claudine turn to face each other as he reads the standard ones. Maya barely hears him. All she can see is the flush on Claudine's cheeks and the shine of her eyes. Ma Claudine. The ceremony may make it official, but Claudine has been hers since that day she claimed Maya for herself on that faraway stage, the stage just short of the Stage of Fate, where they had lost the triumph of first place, but won each other instead.
And then it's her cue to speak and she does. "Oui, je le veux." The celebrant hands her a simple gold band and, with fingers that are only steady thanks to years of stage practice, she takes Claudine's proffered hand and slips the band onto her ring finger.
Claudine is positively beaming at her, and she is so beautiful, and so full of shine that, were she on stage, she'd put the spotlights to shame, and it takes every ounce of Maya's will to hold herself back until Claudine, too, has answered, "Oui, je le veux" and slipped a ring of her own onto Maya's finger.
And with the "I do's" spoken, Maya sweeps in to kiss Claudine as their friends cheer once again. Her lips are as soft as they've ever been, her cheeks, blazingly warm beneath Maya's palms. She's hers. They're each other's. And now everyone will know it, everyone must acknowledge it. There's no longer any doubt or question on the matter.
She draws back sooner than she'd like. Yes, it's Paris and she knows the French would make a bigger ado of it, but she'd rather not scandalize her parents. For a moment they remain facing each other, Maya's face aching with the wideness of her smile as she looks into the shining eyes of her wife. Mon épouse, she thinks, trying the word on for size. Hands clasped, they turn to face the cheers and applause of their friends and then, finally, they walk down the aisle together as what they've always been: a duo, a matched set, a pair, the leads of every stage they take.
Claudine leans in to whisper, "Je t'aime, ma Maya. And we will find a way to be together more often. I am certain of that."
Maya intertwines their fingers and brings them to her lips. "I'll wait, but I will not stand still."
Claudine's fingers squeeze hers. "Good. Then I'll look forward to sharing the stage with you again. As equals."
"Je t'aime, ma Claudine. Toujours." Maya's heart feels light at the words, at the future she can just barely glimpse on the horizon where they both shine with all their brilliance in the same spotlight. It is a future worth waiting—and fighting—for.
The End