| Current mood: |  geeky |
| Current music: | "Lithium Flower"- Kanno Yoko, "GiTS SAC" OST |
Sang Sur les Roses
In my first SKU fic in three years "Sang Sur les Roses" is AU yet not. Tenjou Utena a recent transfer to the prestigious Ohtori Gakuen has sealt with family secrets, lost memories, and an empty heart. Now as she wanders the dueling forests alone on Saturday nights under constant full moonlight, what sensual surprises lurk for her in the darkness? And will she accept her fate alongside the Seitokai under the enigmatic overlord lurking in the ivory tower?
Rating: NC-17
Status: Incomplete
Content: U/T 'ship, F/M/M, M/M, F/F, Toys, Solo, Voy, Incest, Anal, Oral
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Saito Chiho, Ikuhara Kunihiko, Be-Papas, or J.A. Seazar therefore I can’t make a profit. DUH!
A/N: For those who are curious, the backdrop of the story is in the Adolescence Mokushiroku manga and movie; the plot is adapted to suit the SKU manga (hence why Juri is straight) with elements of the anime (Shiori and Akio lovers beware), and for the most part the fic is AU. Can you guess what sorts of creatures inhabit Ohtori?
Sang Sur les Roses
By Faarla Hime
“So how have you been readjusting?” Utena refused the armchair opposite of the doctor’s. She hated the way that she-devil’s aquamarine orbs glimmered gleefully anticipating all of her responses correctly with jewel precision. Utena preferred the window seat curling her knees into her chest, glaring down at a hectic Ginza from the 22nd floor wanting nothing better than to shatter the glass and bleed away to nothingness and watch the corpse plummet down to earth to be swallowed whole.
“Nothing to report,” she grumbled. The she-devil scrawled on her yellow legal pad packs of lies that found their way back to her Seiran High’s folder for the vice principal and that damnable gossip of a counselor for the next time she got into a scrape. Fortune favors the prepared. If there was one positive outcome to these weekly torture sessions it was the fact Arisugawa-sensei encouraged her adolescent patients to explore the office- and what a wealth of strange treasures and finds to decorate a suffocatingly urbane locale. Zulu masks ornamented the slate grey wallpaper, a Mayan cask at the foot of the ebony desk where the wastebasket should be. Sculptures from the Isle of Man of plaits and whorls, a quad of men all in the fetal position, legs interlacing shaping a swastika of sorts. Wooden fertility beads native of Lesotho clacking brown, rust, and black coiled against the door. It whisked her to far off lands of crisp, clean air feeling the spray of waterfalls in full humid jungles. There would be no reason to fear turning the next bend since there would no awaiting cages to be chary of. Arisugawa-sensei twisted the platinum-plated monogrammed pen clicking the ink tip into the metal sleeve. “Are you sleeping better, then?”
The rosy-headed teen had not sleep a night soundly for a decade, her response the doctor knew, therefore a redundant inquiry. “Need you ask?” Sliding down from the plush crushed velvet puce cushions, Utena wandered to the desk swaying her arms like a pair of pendulums striking her fist to a flat palm. “Then perhaps I could-“
“Perhaps you could answer my questions for once,” Utena interpolated clamping a hand down on a silver grey marble stalking wolf standing on the blotter. Arisugawa-sensei’s golden-tangerine crimped tresses tossed shallowly over a slender shoulder. “I will answer anything I can to the best of my ability Utena.” She sat forward resting her elbows on her cranberry mini skirt shrouded thighs. “Just for you.” It took such effort to placate her into a comfort zone to grasp the roots of her enmity, but for that to be successful all defenses had to be lowered. Utena’s shielding was clumsy but effective in some areas better than others.
“I’ve got to know…” The girl swallowed thickly. “Is there a way out of this?”
“‘This’?”
She spun the lupine statuette flat on the desk 180 degrees, her nail tapping the bluntly sculptured teeth spastically. “I’m not saying I exactly did anything but… I had meant to kill that guy.” In compliance with her high school, Tenjou Yurika agreed to send her niece to psychiatric counseling to curb her rage issues and avoid a legal battle. The catalyst for Utena breaking Seiran’s star rugby player’s leg in three places was Kaido on the receiving end of his nonstop and senseless bullying since third grade. There were whispers of home schooling in Amsterdam, Aoi’s halfhearted attempts at persuasion for Yurika to grant Utena leniency about trying out for sports. Then came the final nail in the coffin, a transfer notice to an exclusive prep school in Hou’ou-shi, a beachfront playground for high society’s younger generation. In fact it was the same school Arisugawa Umeko’s younger sister attended.
“I believe you’re going to find you’re life at Ohtori move at a pace more acclimated to you. It is quite an escape from the distractions of the outside world,” Umeko said steepling her fingers before her face. The flat surface of her rose seal flashed with a breath of life from the arching sun. ‘Had she seen him as well?’
* * *
Ohtori needed no distractions from the outside world. It came with enough handicaps of its own. Utena spent most of her weekends on her first six months alone; taking advantage of the few friends she made ignorance of that fact. Ohtori’s campus was shared by a primary school, high school, and university, segregating these was lush and pendant rose gardens and wrought iron gateways. The numerous alabaster edifices had nineteenth century masonry, archways and skywalks rising higher and higher, tall modern structures of glass and steel. It carried an amphitheatre atmosphere, everything enclosed by golden domes and constantly shifting. Loggias and breezeways were the life-giving arteries of Ohtori where everything seemed less confined the higher you went. The observatory tower the tallest structure and most extraordinary by its perfect rectangular dimensions and the bleeding rose beneath its belfry, warping Ohtori’s emblem of the red tea rose on every stained glass window, door, crowning the main entrance.
It was the same on the seal the prince bestowed on Utena with his promise of a reunion. No one knew of her secret save for one and it was taken to his grave. The thought of her dear friend had been coming upon her more powerfully breaking her down on several instances. The only remedy for this was the university’s planetarium, she would slumber in the projection room under the rotating stars throughout the 90-minute long audio recorded astronomy tour awakening just before the buzzer with bittersweet tears streaking her face, his voice so distinctly as he made her promise to do everything she could to live her life. In turn he swore to never forget her and forever keep her in his heart. So fortunate was she to know such tender love at that age, but it was an undeniable fact that his death glared hotly on her hands. Time was a luxury she no longer had and there were few options at her disposal. She was unable to refute what was on the horizon.
* * *
There were far too many windows in this school. The only thing remotely similar to any building of this type were hothouses, such as the one in the courtyard which served as the Student Council’s private rose garden. The sun warmed bronze railings on the landing 75 feet above the fencing hall gleamed reflecting its heavenly powerful rays proving a great nuisance, since there were no draperies or shades on the long French windows to filter it out. Utena couldn’t recall Seiran’s fencing team, or any of its sports teams for a fact, drawing such audiences. They came in droves, largely girls, to see the co-ed class cross foils like the dashing heroes from the storybooks strewn on a nursery’s carpet, shrieking and giggling shielding their connivances and covetousness with their slender hands sometimes with pretty gold or silver rings mounted with flashing precious stones bejeweling their fingers spoils from parents equally as eager to quell their desires with the unapprised hopes that it will make their path to maturity a quicker one. Prohibited on the floor the fangirls kept to the landing but never kept quiet, and their riotous babbling seemed to prove little distraction for the fighters.
Utena heard her name called and was greeted by an opponent only slightly shorter by inches. The sex was unknown since the androgynous whites purposefully left little to the imagination. She saluted her challenger bringing the foil up to her thick mesh mask then brandished it and redoubled the strength of her stance as he rushed her with a melodious battle grunt, and sliced the air brushing him to the side. Almost comically he lost his footing as the steel of her foil hissed against his. Block. Parry. Thrust. Recoil. Utena blossomed under Aoi’s tutelage, true she fell in love with him for it convinced he was the prince in disguise only to be dropped into a tar pit barging into her aunt’s office catching them in the heat of the moment, Yurika on his lap rotating her hips heaving great gulps of air, her pink head lolled back riding out on silent animalistic pleasure. So exposed were they and unashamed of their half naked joined bodies, his fingers nurtured her clit as his treasured organ filled her so completely forcing her back and forth on the stiff body soothing and smothering her. Fencing was her only outlet and the only physical activity she was allowed to in school, Utena always thought it strange but never questioned her aunt’s motives after such a startling discovery.
Her opponent swooped low getting his second wind driving Utena backward, her defenses so tight there were few openings he could see to exploit until she charged, the balls of her feet leaving the waxed cyan and white checkerboard parquet rocketing midair, jarring her foil with his until she came to a stop striking up from below touching the blunt end of her saber to his mask. The multitudes erupted in orgasmic exhalation; Utena rose to her feet and gripped her flustered adversary in a congratulatory handshake. “You’re some fighter,” she told him. A mirthful chortle emerged from behind the mesh and he reached under the white hood to pull off the mask.
“You have the energy and talent our team’s in the market for Tenjou-san.”
The tensai with the easy smile that never quite reached his lazuli eyes guided her through the fawning crowd to an adjoining hall, an enclave of advanced fencers in a narrower space running the width of the fencing hall. “Kaoru Miki desu, yoroshiku.” He shut and bolted the double French doors where thick muslin mint drapes fell to the floor ensuring their privacy. “Tsuchiya-sempai!” Miki called out and on the far side of the room stood a tall fellow with his back to them. His navy hair had a roguish elongated forelock draping over his right eye bleached several shades lighter than Miki’s. “Tsuchiya-sempai?” Miki approached the man bringing a hand down upon his left shoulder with a butterfly light touch.
“Kaoru-san?” He turned to stand nose-to-nose with Utena to which he was shocked several paces back. “Gomen nasai,” he quickly apologized.
“Forget it.” Utena replied resisting the urge to cock an eyebrow, an action she was far too accustomed to doing in the presence of strangers.
“This is Tenjou Utena,” Miki introduced her. “Starting today she’ll be in ‘A’ group since she’s had previous experience on Seiran High’s fencing team. Tenjou, this is Tsuchiya Ruka, one of our finest fencers.” Ruka wasted little time in rocking the boat even if just to relish the expression on Miki’s face.
“Kicked your ass, did she?” Miki’s smile melted but his resolve as dense as burlap refused to give way to illogical fury. His twin coached him in this from childhood going through the motions was as second nature to him as the piano. He sighed and said plaintively, “Have her fill out the roster and assign her a locker. Ja.” Fleet footed as Mercury, Miki made his graceful exit his airy strides providing his adolescent body with a sense of purpose and refreshing zeal of blossoming maturity. Ruka regarded Utena as she stood feeling like a discarded piece of luggage in the wrong spot wringing out her whirling mind from the intensity of the duel, and yet as her upperclassman studied her focusing on her eyes she recalled sensations long buried under ivory crosses where specters ill-prepared to make the final leg of their journey dithered in the hopes of someone unwilling to forget will collect them and allow them to breathe new life into a walking corpse.
“He competes at a national level,” Ruka said to no one in particular, “Miki, that is.” He took a foil down from the wall rack and cut and weaved complex patterns that Utena could almost see the golden impression of God’s fingers on his thick gloved hands. “Can you keep up with that Tenjou? Want to learn?” Utena stared back struggling to commit his every move, every facial twitch to memory. Where had she seen this before? Felt it? The trees. The woods behind her old elementary school, a spray of red earth circling the air between them. He’d been dangling that carrot on a wire before her nose for weeks on end stifling her snivels insisting that it wasn’t proper for her to act so childishly. But she reminded him that they were both very much still children. Pups, he scoffed, correcting her. And as they age they require more attention and affection than children could ever need. And discipline, she mentally noted curling her lip in a sweet scornful manner that her friend was utterly charmed by. ‘Then show me how. There has to be a way…’ And instead he offered her a Pandora’s box, lifting the lid to show her the ant tunnels and pathways that mazed the universe opening doors that she needn’t rush to choose from. If she took his hand and abandoned everything that manacled her to real life in an empty house where a pair of coffins lay side by side, with the empty space so inviting for a third to be placed just for her…
“Teach me.” And she prayed that the truth would unearth itself here under the rose seal from the fecund earth to at last cover the bones of the past never to rattle her again in the quiet darkness. The booming rage of the wolf’s bay wouldn’t pull her under without a fight.
TSUZUKU
(Read comments)
|
