Disclamer: Ok. I don't own Utena or anything related to Utena. Deal. I'm also very new to this.
Chapter 1: When We First Met
"…Paris certainly is beautiful tonight…" I couldn't stand the silence. She was being so quiet. Probably thinking of the world she told me about, laying in her pajamas in our bed staring at the ceiling, as I stand on our balcony by myself. "…don't you think…?" I asked turning towards her and leaning back against the railing, "…Utena?"
Her head fell to the side to look at me. A slight smile appeared on her face as she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes. She nodded an agreement to me. I walked to her and sat on the bed, moving her soft pink hair from her face and gently running the back of my hand down her cheek. "You're so quiet…" She didn't say anything. She just looked at me with a smile. "You're thinking of that place again aren't you…" I said as my hand went over the scars on her sleeveless arm, barely touching them.
Her athletic body was covered in these scars, as if she had been stabbed a million times. I had seen the scars on her arms and legs before, when I first found her on the side of the road that one night almost a year ago when we first met.
She was in such a mess. Her clothes were barely holding together. She could barely hold her self up. When I stopped my car to offer her a ride to the city, she leaned against the light poll and looked at me with those eyes and smiled. Then, closing her eyes as if welcoming the angel of death to take her away, she fell forward. I was so afraid that she had died right then. I jumped out of my car and ran to her. She still had a pulse, so I dragged her to my car. It wasn't that far, but I'm not a strong person at all. I'm very weak. I always have been.
I took her back to my apartment that night and draped her arm around me and carried her to my room, to my bed. I could have collapsed myself, but she needed to be cleaned. When I came back from the kitchen with a bowl of warm water and a towel, she was on the balcony. I sat the bowl down on the desk in front of my bed and she turned to me. I couldn't say anything. I had no words to counter the smile she offered me for the second time that night. She looked back out to le Tour d'Eiffel and said to me, "Paris certainly is beautiful tonight," in a very quiet voice. She walked, unsteadily, back into the room and sat on the bed, falling back gracefully. "Thank you," she said after a moment.
I dipped the towel in the water, and sat next to her, just as I'm sitting next to her now, and wiped the blood and dirt from her face. "So much blood…what happened to you?" She looked at me for a moment and then looked away. She didn't want to talk about it obviously. I didn't pursue it. I wiped the dried blood from her sleeveless arms. Her wounds were deep and fresh and started to bleed only when I touched them to clean them. "These wounds look really bad," I said as I re-wet the towel and squeezed blood from it. "We should get you to a hospi," I stopped when her hands touched mine.
"No, you're doing fine," she smiled at me again. I blushed slightly, or at least I felt like I did.
"But your arms and your legs may need medical attention…" I trailed to a stop again as she removed what was left of her coat that covered her body. The scars were everywhere, one especially bold just under her heart that kept bleeding a little without me touching it. I cleaned her wounds as best as I could.
When I finished, she fell forward leaning on me, falling to unconsciousness. My heart skipped. Gently I laid her on the bed, her head resting beautifully on the pillow. I went to my wardrobe and grabbed a clean nightshirt and put it on her. I left the balcony door open to let the warm summer breeze in the room and lay next to her.
I didn't sleep. I watched her sleep all but peacefully. Quiet screams of names I didn't know escaped her lips every now and then. At least, then, I thought they were names. For all I knew at the time, the words she spoke in her sleep could have meant anything. I'm not the most fluent in Japanese. One word, one name now that I know, was repeated a lot. "Himemiya…"
I couldn't make a story up in my mind for this girl in my bed no matter what I did. I couldn't come up with any story that might explain the marks that dressed her. That in itself was a weird feeling for me. I'm a writer. I make stories. I explain things. Yet I couldn't come up with anything for her.
The sun began to rise and I got up slowly from the bed trying not to wake this sleeping mystery. Into the bathroom I went. I turned the faucet on less the half way, making as little noise as possible, and washed my face. I wiped off the water with a dry towel and looked in the mirror and nearly screamed. There she was standing behind me. I wasn't exactly expecting her to be there.
"I didn't get to introduce myself to you," she said weakly as she sat on the edge of the bath tub. She gave a slight laugh of disgust in herself as she stared at the floor. "How rude of me…" She looked up. "My name's Tenjou Utena."
I smiled and sat next to her. "Japanese, right?"
"Well Tenjou Utena, I'm Alice. Alice Feu." I held out my hand. "Nice to meet you."
This torn apart pink haired girl took my hand gratefully and nodded.