• 1-Chapter I: From the Seal of Caesar Himself
• 2-Chapter II: The Morning After
• 3-Chapter III: In The Garden Of...
• 4-Chapter IV: In A Mirror Darkly
• 5-Author's Notes

Daddy Dearest

By Saoirse the Irish Colleen

Chapter IV: In A Mirror Darkly

Utena passed the dojo and saw a
cluster of sighing and droning fangirls doused in nauseating pop idol perfume,
whetting acrylic talons, and fruit glassine lips, clones proudly boasting a
style of her own. Magical creatures of fantasy and credulity, baubles
ornamenting this chic prison. Possessive exclamations and adulatory shrieks
were heard for miles, Utena stepped forward thinking nothing and feeling less
knowing who the combatants were. On the far left was Saionji, gnarled evergreen
pulled up into a samurai’s ponytail; shinai raised above his head the more
preferential position, teeth gnashed glittering at the corner of his mouth. On
the conflicting side was Touga, his scarlet fall tied off at the end by a white
scarf like a spoiled shogun’s son; shinai situated in front of his waist.
Titans of discontent and approbation, ‘And fucked out of their minds,’ Utena
reflected wading her way through the rabble that didn’t require prodding, each
of them preoccupied in their own little world with their chosen prince at the
core of it. The vice president opened up by rushing him, the president feinted
going to the left and deflected. Saionji anticipating this pivoted on his right
heel catching Touga’s sword at the datosubu gracefully resting all his weight
on his left bent knee poised his shinai congruently with Touga’s criss-crossing
them, the shadows of the bamboo blades quartering their faces the propensity of
evil pulling back like the rolling fog in the dueling woods. Here was a pair of
17-year-old boys dragging out a trifling row over who will pedal the bike and
who will ride shotgun.

‘What are you doing?’

With his back
to her the young man paused his bokken in midair. ‘Headstrikes.’

‘Is it fun?’

‘It’s part of my training.’ Utena smoothed her sunset-colored
ruffled skirt under her thighs before seating herself on the grass. Some high
shrubs sheltered them; she was confident that her auntie was still shuffling
her books and papers, too busy to notice that her niece teleported from her
spot on the picnic blanket. Utena could care less about her church clothes, if
Yurika was going to get so upset why wasn’t she allowed to bring her shorts and
a tee after Sunday school? Grown-ups made no sense sometimes, and she wondered
looking at this handsome older boy why did he want to be one so badly. Never
once had she laid her eyes on him before but there were secrets he let slip.
Not that she’d ever tell…

‘Your hair is so pretty.’ Touga
brought down his blade once more and looked at the grinning girl, chin propped
up in her tiny hand heels. Was she still here? Why? His red hair reaching past
his shoulder blades, at that bastard’s request, lifted in the warm breeze
prickling his cheek like rose thorns. She shouldn’t be here and he shouldn’t be
speaking to her, not now at least. The timetable hadn’t been set.

‘Do you want to learn?’

Utena was
starting to her feet, ‘For real?’ Touga crooked a finger and stretched
his arms out. A unicorn wove through the white Birchwood trimming the lake.
Utena’s clasped hands secreted in the folds of her deep rose chiffon and
taffeta skirts, she knew not to disturb the creature dipping its snout into the
clear, sweet water.

‘Utena?’ Touga approached her in a red jacket,
golden braids, frogs, and plaited rose epaulets. Dios’ sword sheathed at his
side. She accepted his heady kiss moaning in the white sunlight. The immortal
beast watched with her green eyes as tongues slid and twisted.

‘My prince, an omen?’ Utena
sighed breathless. His tongue perused her once more, teeth clicking already a
discharge of fluid making the patch of silk itch caught in her rosebud from
that morning’s solo endeavors. Her fingers were a poor substitute, but Utena
needed to see to herself or else she would do something unbecoming of her
station. Arm in arm they trailed up the shimmering path to their bed to savor
the animalistic thrusts at their peak to the final anointing kisses before
slumber.

Putting herself at risk once again
approaching the frontlines, Utena manifested from the silenced onlookers ready
to barge into their feud, clattering shinai and all, when she was petrified to
the spot. Her heart a fist knocking high in her throat blocking the passage of
air, the encroaching blackness as thick as molasses erased the afternoon sun’s
dusty rays disorienting her until she felt the slap of the hardwood under her
cheek. “Otou-san…”

They mirrored each other’s smiles,
the only things brighter than the star at the center of the universe. Patiently
walking in step were Anthy and Miki, the tensei in a gentlemanly gesture
carrying the Rose Bride’s briefcase as he asked her if she might join him for a
practice session in the music hall. And Anthy of course was more than happy to…
as long as Utena-sama gave her consent.

“Get the nurse!”

“She’s fainted!”

“Utena!” The girls swarmed Utena.
Princesses vying to wake their prince with their kisses. A stopwatch clicked
and they gave Anthy and Miki a wide berth.

“Utena-sama!” Anthy immediately flew
to her champion’s side gingerly pushing away the towel and rattan rack that was
knocked down when Utena had fallen. Miki shouted instructions into his cell for
the clinic to send up a gurney. “Utena-sama… Utena-sama…?”

Utena unable
or unwilling to open her eyes breathed a ragged breath. “Otou-san…” It was a
luscious freefall, melting then dissolving at last into moonlight splashing
through a church’s stained glass window above the altar. The final act of the
passion play, and the curtain was going up.

“Utena… Utena… Oi Tenjou!”

* * *

“Nani?!” A jeep barreled down the
inclined asphalt causing Utena to shove away from the guardrail.

“Did you have a nice time?”

“Eh?” Utena’s vision failed to
refocus and she unsure about this new voice.

“I said did you have a nice time?”

“Nice time?” She rubbed her eyes
finding it difficult since she was fisting a briefcase. “Where did I go?”

“Wherever you went.” She looked at
her two companions, both in uniforms indigenous to the assortment of high
schools in Tokyo. It was then she realized she donned one as well. The modest
pleated skirt was maroon as was the matching blazer, a charcoal cotton vest and
under it a crisp white blouse. The school’s insignia gold and dark navy
emblazoned the right breast pocket. Swinging from the metal joint on her
briefcase was a keychain that looked something like Chu-Chu. Utena shrank back
uneasily not recognizing her friends. “Utena?”

“What?” She snapped.

“Daijoubu? You look lost.” The
girl wore a gold barrette splitting the part in her chin length jet-black hair
on the left side. She drew out a coconut sprinkled Pocky stick with her teeth
and munched it without once using her fingers. The boy unmindful of the women
around him tapped the liquid crystal screen of his Palm Pilot with his stubby
plastic pen zealously. His hair was neatly trimmed and his titanium frames
flashed alive from the reflecting sun. His grey slacks had straight razor
creases and his black tie was pressed.

“Kaido…?” Utena croaked, bringing
her fingers to her lips.

“Eh?” He rejoined reality. They
continued walking to an unknown destination, perhaps they knew but Utena knew
better than to question. The girl latched onto Kaido’s arm chattered
incessantly with her boyfriend who grinned and nodded on cue and Utena on her
left silent. And there they were, three ordinary friends walking home on an
ordinary afternoon, on an ordinary street, in front of an ordinary house, in
ordinary Tokyo.

“Ja Utena!” Kaido waved.

“See you on Monday!” The girl
twittered and they continued walking down the hill. Utena turned to see a
nameplate read TENJOU on the black letterbox with oxidized corners stuffed to
the gills with junk mail. She furled the bulky interior design magazine around
the car insurance cards, exceedingly high interest rate credit card
applications, and CD club ads and walked through the front gate. Utena didn’t
feel her brown penny loafers slide off. The waxed floor squeaked under her
socked feet as she indecisively mounted the raised step where she was greeted
by embracing aromas wafting from the kitchen and the sounds of routines
muddling her senses. She admired herself for a moment in the front hall mirror
peering into the living room done in subtle tones of cream, navy, and sienna.
The sheer white drapes whispered amongst themselves, surely Utena’s name was
mentioned. A taupe and grey diamond patterned duvet cast over the back of the
damask sofa, on the yellow glass coffee table stood a vase of gardenias with
leaves beginning to shrivel, and a deep black leather armchair by the hearth
had a man’s trench coat draped across the arms.

A blend of Chinese eggplant,
mushrooms, scallions, and bamboo chutes, and carrots hissed and sizzled
stridently after being tossed into an electric wok filled with long rice and
clear olive oil. A woman paced back and forth between a mixing bowl and several
boiling copper pots. The cordless wedged between her shoulder and chin
inattentive to her secretary’s blaring watched the oil spatter onto her satin
cuffs. Her blonde hair brushed her waist in graceful waves, Utena once seen a
graduation photo of the Chairman’s daughter Ohtori Kanae in a glass display in
the Hall of Alumni Honorees. The woman’s stylish deportment bore echoes of
Kanae-san but it seemed more innate and delicate, versus the rich girl’s
artifice of gentility.

“…Hai… I found the tickets in my
attaché; sorry I blew up at you. I’m just trying to get dinner ready and the
dry cleaning hasn’t gotten picked up yet-” A pot lid danced from the unstable
steam before she removed it, lowered the flame then saw Utena in the archway.
“Ara! Utena… eh? My daughter just came home. I know I want the projections for
the third quarter finalized by Monday morning- first thing. Right, bye.” Her
mother, Utena assumed, folded melted fudge and chopped walnuts into cream then
set it aside to open the oven. “Utena did you pick up the mail?” Utena held her
arm out robotically. “Thank you sweetie.” Her mother set a Pyrex plate over the
steaming bunt mold and flipped it over sliding the cake out. It smelled so
good. “This has to cool… your father just came home and has to pick up the dry
cleaning, where are those tickets?” Tossing the oven mitts into the sink she
plucked two scraps of folded white and faded pink printouts from a plastic
green clip attached to a white board with a list of chores under the heading
THINGS TO DO. “Why don’t you give these to him and go do your homework because
dinner will be a little early tonight.” She took the receipts from her mother
and climbed the stairs. The master bedroom door was open and she saw a man
unpacking a suitcase at the same time typing on a PC, gathering herself Utena
rapped gently on the walnut door.

“Hmm? Utena!” Her father had
close-cropped pink hair, ruddy eyes, and dimples like Aunt Yurika.

“Otou-san…” His footprints were set
deep into her subconscious only then did the salty sea pull back and let them
resurface when she inhaled the spiciness hidden on her father’s flesh.
“Otou-san!” She wrapped her arms about his chest in a vise grip bracing for the
fall back into the abyss. “Where did you go?” She rasped. “Why did you leave
me?”

“I hate the trips just as much as
you do, Little Bear. Daddy’s job comes first at times, but it’s important that
you see things to the end when you make a commitment. Didn’t I already teach
you that?” Utena sniffed loudly swiping the back of her hand across her nose.
“But Daddy’s here and he’s not leaving.”

“Otou-san…”

* * *

Utena was at sixes and sevens. The
desk she sat at belonged to a dead girl, or was it a girl who fancied herself
dead wearing a rose colored blindfold groping through the hordes trapped in
Ohtori. Ohtori… was that truly a dream? And what of the prince? Her uniform
blazer joined her other clothes hanging in the closet. She peeled off her socks
and pulled out her shirttails. When Utena unbuttoned her blouse she became even
more paranoid finding Juri’s golden rose at her throat. It was also apparent
that it was the only piece of jewelry she wore, her signet ring was not present
on her left hand. When did Juri give the locket to her? Or did Juri exist in
the first place? Himemiya? Miki? Saionji… Touga? Padding down the back
stairwell no louder than a cat traipsing through a puddle she found a baby
grand piano in the den, the exact one as Miki practiced on in the music room
compulsively, praying Kozue might have a change of heart.

In the yard was a white pergola,
rose vines lovingly coiled up the columns. The white wrought iron patio
furniture beneath the rose smoked glass roof had a fresh coat of paint. And the
bushes carried roses of every color. Exhaling a breath she’d been holding since
she was six, Utena sat on the pergola’s step and sobbed into her hands. The
duels, the prince, and Himemiya were all her imagination gone horribly wrong.
Her heart fell to her feet at the thought of celebrating Himemiya’s
non-existence but was it not better that Himemiya not be real rather than be a
sacrifice to the Rose Seal?

Utena’s mother served beef curry,
most of which Utena pushed around her plate and the few morsels she was able to
swallow she couldn’t taste. Ohtori’s cafeteria menu put a good number of
Japan’s five star restaurants to shame.

“Utena,” her mother interrupted her
daughter’s mental merry go round.

“Hai?”

Her mother
took a sip of white wine. “What time is Chieko picking you up tonight?”

“Chieko…?” She replayed the
shorthaired girl’s bubbly farewell when she and Kaido dropped her off.

“You are spending the weekend with
her, aren’t you?” ‘See you on Monday!’ At the foot of her pink and purple bed sat a white canvas gym bag.
Expecting to find her team uniform or a sweat suit instead inside was an
outfit. A cotton pink blouse with a risqué V-neck décolletage, a flared white
skirt, and white Gucci slingbacks that put a few inches on her height. Chieko was
obviously covering for her as she spent the weekend with her lover. An hour
later her parents were dressed to the nines: her father in a black tuxedo with
coattails and her mother in a royal blue crepe gown. Tiny spaghetti straps
hugged her shoulders, her blonde hair wound about her head set with tiny
crystal blue butterflies. Her gaijin clients were meeting them at the Budokhan
for the opening night of La Boheme, and since they were Glaswegians it
would only be appropriate to have a drink afterwards. “We should be home by
one- two at the latest.” She stepped into a pair of jeweled pumps, Utena handed
her a sequined clutch bag.

“When you get to Chieko’s just leave
a message,” her father said wetting his fingertips bending them along the
inside arch of his polished left shoe. He kissed the top of Utena’s head. “Have
a nice time.”

“I will. Good night!” She waved
until the red taillights on the silver Cadillac liquefied into the darkness. In
the kitchen once more Utena tapped the locket weighing the outcome sensing
something skirting betrayal. Betrayal of what, her mind rallied. A ghost?
Something less? Stroking the fingers of her left hand she wished that her
prince’s gift were there to comfort her as it had done in the past.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Tenjou Utena.’

‘Tenjou Utena… I think I could be
falling for you.’

‘Oi! Mr. President! Don’t get cute
with me!’

‘HA! HA! HA!’

‘She pushed herself from the table, the
steel legs under the Brentwood chair screeched on the coral linoleum only
hearing the gates rolling back upon her entrance to the dueling arena. Touga
was right during their last duel, she was not a particularly gifted fighter.
Her style was amateurish but because of Dios’ sword her dangerous winning
streak foresaw no break. She never got a chance to ask Miki about the letters
from Sekai no Hate, another mystery her unchained psyche conjured never to be
solved. She was glad of it. Utena rinsed and dried a tall plastic tumbler, went
over to the ice dispenser on the freezer door and pushed the metal lever back
for the cubes to rattle down. On the bottom shelf in the fridge was an unopened
case of Coke, she stripped off the perforated band and rolled a red aluminum
can on the counter. She crooked her right index finger and jammed it sideways
into her mouth and bit, a habit Utena was never able to break since childhood.
She was back in the dueling woods searching for the entrance to the arena and
all she could find were ruins from a golden age. Broken columns, lost swords,
standing stones angling out of the earth and at the very heart of it was the
effigy of Himemiya. Utena was only able to identify her friend by the sculpted
Rose Bride gown, crowning the figure was a neck stump.