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The first time she held it in her hands, Dios was watching her. By then, although still relatively unknown, he was already inundated with requests. So this was all according to plan. This was good.
Though for Anthy, it was more than good. It was powerful. It was freeing. Her body was nothing in a way such that she could turn it into something—something she wanted. On their travels, she had seen how some could only express it in their voice, their movements, and their eyes.
She now, however, could express it from inside to outside. Not that she needed to, it was always here. It was just something no one would take seriously—not even Dios, as much as he never meant to say otherwise.
But now that it was here, manifested physically in her still small fingers, she learned what it was like to be alive.
“Thank you, Dios,” she murmured when she could finally tear her eyes away from the mirror.
“What for?”
“Thank you for being here,” she continued, now tearing up. She wiped one stray droplet with her new, more fitting hand. “Thank you for making me a princess.”
*
But then she learned she wasn’t because she was the sister to the prince. And sisters could never be princesses.
And even if she wasn’t a sister, the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t been born a princess. Even now, she had no tiara, no grand poofy dress, only the red dregs fashioned from Dios’s cape. Take that, and truly, what was left would be the shape of it around her miserably young bitter flesh.
*
It was only when she hid her beloved prince from the mob that they gave her a name to what she was.
Witch.
*
Well, that was fine.
The three swords piercing from the bottom of her chin through her skull formed a sort of tiara.
That’s princess enough.
*
And the roses. She knew how the way she cared for them was second to none, just like a selfless mother. And do not most girls—princesses included—become mothers in the end?
*
“You’re like a bride to the roses,” Akio remarked at her side, running a hand up her bare, sweaty shoulder. “Precious, virgin, and peacefully subservient.”
Her heart stirred violently at the last word. Indeed, she was trapped by the swords she had chosen to take on for him when he was still Dios. But that didn’t mean she served the swords, let alone the roses that didn’t do anything but bloom as they basked in the sun. Besides, the roses had thorns of their own—they could protect their own. Could he not see that?
“Hm? Why do you look at me like that, Anthy?”
She turned away, covering the shoulder he had touched without her permission for the past hour. “I’m just cold.”
“You’re bare naked. Of course you’re cold.”
And then, he got up from the bed, put on his robe, and left.
*
She asked why once.
Strangely, during the first half of his response, she saw Dios. She really did.
Afterwards, she decided it had just been her wanting to see things a certain way. For wanting a prince on a white horse to come save her.
But Dios never existed. Dios never made her a princess in the first place.
What Akio made was a fool who then turned into a cow for slaughter.
But at least cows were sacred animals in other parts of the world.
*
Oh, Nanami, you fool.
*
Oh, Miki, you lost child.
*
Oh, Juri, you pathetic hoper.
*
Oh, Saionji, you blind pierrot.
*
Oh, Touga, you false prophet.
*
Oh, Utena, you make-believe prince.
You’re a girl.
You were born a girl.
You’re just a girl.
*
Utena, you fool.
*
“Welcome back, Utena-sama.”
“Oh! So you were awake... Are you mad?”
“About what?”
“I knew you’d say that... I wonder if he was making fun of me a little.”
She looked at the girl wearing red on her left. The girl pressed her right hand up against the glass separating them from a crystal clear view of the galaxy before them. “‘You looked very much like a girl tonight.’ Akio-san said that.”
The girl hung her head. “‘Like a girl...’ What does that even mean?”
To hide the sardonic smile that crept up on her face, Anthy turned away, even though there was no chance the girl in red would’ve been able to see it as long as a great distance remained between them.
“Girls are... in the end, all girls are like the Rose Bride,” she said.
Then, she crossed the distance and grasped the girl’s hand.
“Did you receive a letter from The End of the World?”
“Mm...”
“If you go to that castle, you will meet your prince.”
The girl shook her head ever so slightly.
“...Ever since we met, a lot has happened, hasn’t it? A lot...”
Her thumb pressed back the pinky Anthy had grasping the girl’s index finger.
*
Anthy tried to ask—no, tell the girl once. When the girl said that if they ever had problems, they should come to each other first and help each other. Because that’s the kind of friends she wanted them to be.
It sounded so beautiful, friendship. As if it were a shining thing. Miraculous. Eternal.
Especially whilst holding the girl’s warm hand, staring into her bright sky blue eyes that somehow reflected the expanse of stars and moon and space dust.
But Anthy only got as far as, “I.”
“Utena-sama, the truth is, I...”
*
The truth is, she hated it.
The truth is, she wanted it.
The truth is, she loved it.
The truth is, even though it hurt all over, even though being it made her the target, made her subservient, made her a flower to be passed around—
—at least, as a princess, she was a girl.
She was a girl a girl a girl a girl a girl, not a witch a witch a witch a witch a witch.
There was no magic when they pushed Anthy, when he violated Anthy, when the girl got herself back using Anthy. And if there was no magic to make it real, but they treated her as if she were real, then she was real. It was real.
And as long as that was real, she could go through anything. A thousand years of this would be nothing. Her body, mind, soul was nothing. Even Dios could become nothing.
All that mattered was that she could have herself like this.
*
And yet, when she pushed the blade through the girl’s side, she felt the girl’s entire weight.
All of this for it?
For Anthy?
What was Anthy anyway?
A husk. A whore. A sham. A thorn. A tool. A sheath. A replacement. An illusion.
A witch.
Yeah, she was a witch. An evil one who reveled in this kind of betrayal and trickery. Because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have done this again now, would she? Wouldn’t have done this to the one person who cared in what felt like years and years and years of boredom and agony and desensitization.
Stupid girl. Stupid. Why’d you play prince? Nothing comes of sacrifice—Anthy knows. Anthy could’ve told her—oh, why didn’t she tell her?
“Because you’re a witch.”
“Witch.” “Witch!” “Witch.” “Witch.” “Witch.” “Witch!” “Witch!” “Witch!” “Witch!” “Witch.” “WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITC H!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!WITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCH!DIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEWITCHDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEHIMEMIYADIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEHIMEMIYAAAAAAAAAAADIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEHIMEMIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
*
A light in the darkness.
The name of a princess.
Over and over.
But she wasn’t one so she kept her eyes and ignored it. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
Like all the years before.
Until the voice began to grow more desperate. And the light, it became piercing—no, burning even. As if someone had taken all of the sun and focused it on her.
So she opened an eye, turned her weary head up at the light.
“Who’s... there?”
“I came to save you.”
“But... who are you?”
“I came here all the way to meet you. So don’t be afraid of this world where we can meet...”
Meet...?
“...Hi...”
Who is there to meet...?
“...memiya! Himemiya!”
She blinked.
“Utena... sama?”
The girl—the princess—the prince—the fool—Utena—smiled wider than Anthy had ever seen before, even as tears poured out of her eyes.
“Himemiya... at last, we meet...”
She extended a hand.
“Your hand... come on!”
“No! If you don’t hurry up and get out of here...”
“Himemiya, your hand! Give me your hand!”
“Please...”
“Hurry! Your hand!”
She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t, she shouldn’t. She was a girl. She was a witch. She was a fool. She—
She was something that didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve more than this, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go—
But... what... if...?
The shape of Utena’s hand blurred behind thick tears.
She shouldn’t, she wasn’t supposed to.
But.
Utena came all this way to meet her.
Her. Anthy. Just Anthy.
She raised a hand, then flinched.
Could she? Should she?
Utena was right there. She could take it, feel it, then be with Utena. That promise to drink tea together as friends in ten years—it could happen tomorrow if she took it. Maybe even more because if she took it, and they graduated from this place, she wouldn’t be what she had always known to be anymore, she’d be an adult, free to be whatever, forever—
Yes, that’s what she wanted. With Utena. To be free, like rose petals in the wind instead of the rose itself—
She reached—
*
And she fell.
*
Oh, Anthy, you fool.
*
But eventually, the night turned into day.
Eventually, the chick emerged from the shackles of the egg.
Even as the sweet yolk clung to her skin, tempting her to remain, she knew it was not eternal, so she left.
And walked.
And walked.
*
And then she crossed that border of the coffin and the outside world, her foot lighter than it had ever been with magic, and laughed as herself.