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I will fill your eyes with flowers

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Anthy likes to think of the rose garden as her sanctuary. Inside its arched glass walls, soft leaves breathe out serenity. Acceptance. The careful, curved paths dictate the shape of life, and her hands follow. She waters. She prunes. And the roses respond with blooms exactly as they should. It is a kind of peace. It is enough peace.

It has always been enough.

Still, Anthy watches Utena's reflection in the glass. The other girl cannot stop moving; she stretches her arms above her head, bounces on her toes, and starts again. There is so much energy there. Anthy had been concerned, at first, for her garden, prepared herself to clean up broken stems and scattered gravel...

... which had not transpired. If she closes her eyes a little behind her glasses, Anthy can see the edges of the shape Utena moves in, the boundaries she has placed upon herself because of her own kindness. Her limbs come close to the other flowers, but she does not dislodge them. There is no sign of her when she is gone.

Anthy's hand trembles with the shears, but only for a moment. The stems must be cut cleanly, or the blooms will suffer.