Objects of Desire: a Sandman/Revolutionary Girl Utena crossover, Chapter Seven:

[musedmoose]

Title: And Love is Not a Victory March
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 5289
Chapter 6 here.


Objects of Desire: Chapter Seven - And Love is Not a Victory March

Despite what some thought, there was no set place in the Dreaming where Morpheus had to go to create or modify a dream. The shores of Nightmare were the appropriate place for that kind of creation, true; but as any dreamer and any dream knew, nightmares could come from anywhere. All dreams shared that in common.

Morpheus’s workshop deep within the castle had been one of the first things he’d created, countless millennia ago, when he had first drawn the castle out of the chaos the Dreaming had once been. He stood there now, surrounded by all the implements of dreams, tools of warped but perfectly understandable logic, fleeting moments kept in silvery jars, and a dark web made of lost thoughts and half-forgotten memories hanging upon the western wall.

It was the web that held his attention today, as its myriad lines formed a kind of scrying mirror, with the strands acting as boundary to the image within. Anthy lay reflected among the web’s lines, lost in sleep, the occasional sharp twitch marring the peaceful image she projected.

Something, Morpheus thought, had been done to her. Akio had taken not only her memories, but her will and her sense of self, turned her into the weak-minded doll he called the Rose Bride. And if Desire would not undo the change, then Morpheus would, regardless of how unpleasant it could be.

For he and Anthy alike.

He found no point in delaying the inevitable. Morpheus focused his will upon the strands of the web, calling upon it to see if who Anthy truly was still resided within her somewhere. He’d thought Utena’s presence could help Anthy find herself again, but she was not helping quickly enough. Morpheus frowned at the thought of Akio having some influence upon the Dreaming. It simply would not do.

The strands of the web twisted, tightening against each other, and the image of Anthy within shifted. The bedcovers above her faded away and disappeared, followed by the pale lavender nightgown she wore. Morpheus inspected her for marks, for any sign of what Akio had done to her.

Not a one. Even the mark on her forehead remained intact, though smaller now. Morpheus suddenly remembered - Akio had worn a similar mark, likely all the better to convince Anthy that they were brother and sister. Such a devious being.

Seeing no signs, Morpheus delved deeper. The web’s image stripped Anthy of her outer shell, of her human seeming, and lay bare the dreamstuff that made up her existence.

The stars in Morpheus’s eyes dimmed at the sight. Worse, far worse, than he had imagined.

Most dreams held within themselves the basic shapes and ideas that summed up their existence. Viewing Lucien in the web’s strands, for example, would show him to be wearing his suit within as he wore it without, and the spaces between filled with books. He was the librarian of the Dreaming, utterly and completely. Likewise, Merv’s dreamstuff held smoke and vines and the strange mixture of complaint and dedication that so characterized his work.

It had been long, long years since Morpheus had created Anthy, but he remembered what composed her. Strange layers of mystery and charm, to make her the kind of being others would want to know although she never truly revealed herself. A will, a strong will and an enduring one, tempered with the knowledge that she was made with limitations. A strong will was necessary to influence the Dreaming; the limitations were necessary so that she could not influence it too much.

And finally, he had crowned her with something much like a star, something that held all the colors of the Dreaming, so that he would always know which form she took. She’d taken a human shape of her own will, given herself green eyes and purple hair and dark skin, and Morpheus had known then that the color of her hair was what would forevermore identify her, as herself and as part of his world.

How bright she had shone.

The star behind Anthy’s eyes pulsed dim now, its light feeble and dull, bound all around by thin, thorned vines. The vines twisted even as Morpheus watched, sprouting forth from where her heart would be were she human. Thorned rings spiraled around the backs of her eyes, cutting tiny wounds.

All throughout Anthy, the vines wrapped around every part of her being. In some places, the vines showed small cuts and tears, all bleeding a lilac-colored sap; tiny places where Anthy’s resistance had hurt Akio in one way or another. But they were not enough. If she had severed a vine, then perhaps there would be a chance.

Morpheus turned from the web, let its vision fade away until the dark strands showed only the stone wall between them. Too much, he thought; it was too much. Akio’s corruption spread through Anthy too deeply for him to pull it out without destroying her.

If Desire would not undo it, then Akio himself must.

Morpheus left his laboratory, carefully closing all the doors behind him to ensure that none could find their way into it, by accident or by design. If there was a way to free Anthy, it was out of his hands. He scowled, deep lines forming in his pale flesh.

Of all his siblings, Desire was the least likely to mind its own business and leave the others alone. That being’s tendencies had cost him before, both long ago and in the more recent past, and they would do so again. And again, and again, knowing Desire’s ways; it never seemed to grow tired of finding new ways to toy with everyone.

It seemed that only one option remained.

Morpheus returned to his gallery, and stood before the frames, looking at each of the sigils in turn. He approached and drew one down, ran his fingers across it for a moment before asking a quiet question.

“My sister. I stand in your gallery, and I hold your sigil. Will you speak with me?”

* * *

The early morning light shined in through the glass window, beams falling across Utena’s eyes and slowly waking her from sleep. She stirred, gently, not wanting to awaken Anthy.

Even after their conversation last night, Utena could tell, Anthy was not eager to go to sleep. The other woman had first insisted that she would sleep elsewhere, that she could make a room for herself, that she didn’t have to be any inconvenience to Utena. But Utena had insisted that they sleep close. Just in case, she’d said.

Utena sighed at the thought. Just in case, she hadn’t said, Anthy tried to go back to Akio.

She knew it shouldn’t happen. But she wouldn’t put it past Akio at all, or Desire, to find a way to reach Anthy and force her to return to Ohtori. Whatever hold Akio had on her, Morpheus hadn’t removed it yet. So the chance was still there.

When Anthy finally lay down, Utena sat up to watch her, not saying anything, just looking at her in the dim light as the fire slowly died. So much had happened, she thought. So much in . . . less than two weeks? Even her journey across the Dreaming hadn’t seemed to take so long, not with her goal firmly in mind and her destination one so worth reaching. But now, with Anthy finally at her side again, time seemed to slow to the point of hardly passing at all.

For a moment, Utena wondered if Anthy was doing that, then shook her head. It didn’t seem like her.

She’d been able to tell that Anthy couldn’t get to sleep at first. Her eyes stayed closed, mostly, but Utena caught the faint flickers of green and could tell that Anthy was pretending, likely for Utena’s own sake. She then remembered, and reached out and put her hand on Anthy’s shoulder, hoping to reassure her.

Slowly, Anthy’s hand had raised to cover her own, and not long after, Anthy’s breathing steadied and fell into the gentle rhythms of calm, restful sleep. Utena shifted herself to lay down without breaking the touch, and had eventually fallen asleep as well, drawing comfort from the warmth of the fire and Anthy’s presence.

Now, Utena sat up in bed and stared out the window. Outside, warm light flowed over the land, casting the rolling hills and distant buildings into brighter colors, making all seem new again. She gave a lazy smile.

How could the sun rise in a world that was a dream? Why were there even days, and could they be any length Morpheus wanted? Why . . . why. For so long, she’d been unable to ask why, unless it was idle musing about the rules behind the duels or wondering things about her friends and the other duelists that weren’t truly important. The truth behind that began to sink in, and she looked to Anthy.

How horrible it must have been, she thought, to not be able to ask why, to not be able to pull away from everything that hurt her. Years as Akio’s prisoner . . . Utena shuddered at the thought. While reading her own story, Utena had learned so much, learned of everything that had gone on between Anthy and Akio when no one else was around - unless Akio wanted another to find out.

Put it away, Utena urged herself. Dwelling on the past would do no good. She knew what had happened, she knew the truth; all that mattered now was keeping Anthy safe.

As though able to hear her thoughts, Anthy gently stirred. Utena quickly looked away, back to the window, to the patterns in the glass that hadn’t been there before last night. Now, with the sun shining through them, she realized what Anthy had done.

The base of the window showed an outline of the dueling forest, with the elevator rising above it, to the dueling arena at the very top. All along the sides stood silhouettes of the two of them, Utena dueling and Anthy watching, or them close to each other at those moments in their lives. The glass was a tiny collection of all their time together.

Near the top of the window, just beneath the tower, the image of Utena stood with her sword pointing at a tall, shadowy outline. Akio. Was that, Utena wondered, what this was all to be? Was this still the final duel, had it ever ended?

No.

Utena looked back to Anthy. No, she told herself. She’d won the duel. Battered and nearly broken, she’d found the strength to resist Akio and open the rose gate, and she’d found the coffin that held Anthy bound all those years. She had won.

All the same, she couldn’t help thinking that all of this, everything that had happened since then, could be leading up to what would truly be one last duel. No matter what happened, she would fight for Anthy. It could not be any other way.

Utena suddenly realized that Anthy’s eyes were open, and that she was watching her. “Good morning,” she said quietly.

“Good morning, Utena,” Anthy said. Her voice reminded Utena of the quiet moments they’d shared, talking late at night in the unusual bed in Akio’s rooms at the top of the tower. There had always been a strange kind of honesty in Anthy’s voice during those times, like she could speak without fear.

Utena smiled at hearing that voice again. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept.” A small smile drifted across Anthy’s face, as though sleeping had been enough. “How do you feel?”

Utena drew her knees up close to her chest. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I guess Morpheus is doing whatever he can to help you. I just wish there was more I could do.”

“He’ll find something,” Anthy said, still sounding sleepy. She lay there for a quiet moment. “Maybe he already has.”

Utena paused, blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

“He’s coming.”

A knock came from the door. Utena jumped, looked from the door to Anthy and back again. “Come in!” she managed.

The door opened, and Morpheus walked in. Once again, Utena couldn’t tell what he was thinking - his face was set and stern, the lights in his eyes cold and hard, but what news he brought, she couldn’t guess. He bowed his head to them both.

“I apologize for disturbing you so early. I trust you slept well?”

Utena nodded. Next to her, Anthy stirred, and leaned up on one arm, looking at Morpheus from behind a rise of bedcovers.

“I’ve spoken to my sister,” Morpheus said. “The news I have is not kind, but it is for the best. Anthy--”

Morpheus froze for a second, looking distracted. Utena glanced at Anthy to see if she understood this, saw the other woman’s eyes on Morpheus, not moving. She tried to fight off a sudden feeling that she was about to receive an unpleasant surprise.

“There is . . . a guest, at the front gates,” Morpheus said, looking somehow confused. “Someone wishes to speak to us all.” He glanced at the two of them. “Come.”

* * *

They appeared just inside the castle’s great gates. Anthy stood behind Utena, close enough to hide behind her shoulder, her wavy hair spilling nearly to the ground. Utena reached back and held out her hand. After a moment, Anthy took it, and Utena squeezed.

Whatever came of this, Utena reminded herself, she would fight.

Morpheus put his hand to the gates, and they swung open, letting in the early morning sun. Standing on the other side, looking weary and confused, was a girl Utena had not expected to see again.

“Wakaba?”

Wakaba’s uniform was worn and tattered, torn across the poofy shoulders and along the edges of the skirt. Bruises dotted her legs, and she was missing one shoe. The dazed look in her eyes made Utena wonder if she even knew where she was.

“Do I . . . know you?” Wakaba asked, swaying slightly from side to side. “I just came to deliver a message. . . .”

“Then give it,” Morpheus said, stern as ever.

“But you seem so familiar. . . .” Wakaba squinted at Utena, scrunching up her face as though trying hard to remember. That expression faded after a moment, and the dazed look returned.

“It’s me, Wakaba,” Utena said, stepping forward and holding out her free hand. She touched Wakaba’s arm, and the girl flinched back.

“I’m just here to--” Wakaba’s eyes opened wide, and when she spoke again, it was not her voice. “Hello, Utena.”

“Akio,” she hissed. “What do you want?”

Surprise crept across Wakaba’s face, and she held a hand to her mouth. Her hand whipped down, as though of its own accord, and she spoke again, fear and shock clear in her eyes. “Mmm. What do you think I want?”

“You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?” Utena asked. She felt more than saw Anthy move behind her, as though trying to avoid attention.

“Tell her,” Morpheus said, the sense of command behind his voice once more.

“I don’t know - who are you?” Wakaba gasped in her own voice, high and full of panic. “What’s happening--”

Her mouth shut, then Akio spoke through her once again. “You can’t command me when I’m not there, Morpheus. But you needn’t worry. I’m not here for you.” Wakaba leaned forward, Akio’s leer dark and unkind on her face. “I’m here for you both.”

Wakaba then flushed red and jerked herself away, nearly falling backwards down the steps. She waved her arms, looking desperately embarrassed, tried to open lips that seemed stuck together.

Utena felt her heart lurch. Akio was doing this to torment her, she knew; it was truly like him to use her best friend against her. But she couldn’t give in, couldn’t let Akio see how much this hurt. She steeled herself, glared into Wakaba’s eyes. “I’m not coming back to you. Neither is Anthy.”

“Oh, you will,” Akio’s voice said, clear despite Wakaba’s hands frantically trying to cover her mouth. “I have . . . a challenge for you both. You see, Utena, just like this girl, you’re mine. And with all the time I had with Anthy . . . she’s mine as well.”

Utena felt Anthy’s nails dig into the skin of her hand, felt Anthy’s head on the back of her shoulder. This was it, she thought. This was what she’d promised Anthy she wouldn’t let happen. She hadn’t thought Akio would be this direct, but with them in the Dreaming and out of his reach, what else could he do?

“You are mistaken,” Morpheus said, sounding somehow angry and bored at the same time. “Creation is not possession. You made the mistake of giving your creations wills of their own. Their loss is your own fault.”

Wakaba gave Morpheus a glare full of venom, harsh and out of place on her friendly face. “I never gave Anthy free will,” Akio’s voice said. “She found it again for herself.”

“Then you cannot call her your own,” Morpheus said. “Learn the rules that come with creation before attempting to use them.”

“Rules?” Wakaba threw her head back and laughed, long and mocking. Her voice and Akio’s mixed, giving the laugh a dissonance that made Utena cringe. “I’m not in your realm, Morpheus. Your rules don’t apply to me here.” She turned to Utena, and took a step toward her, sliding close as though to embrace her.

“She always wanted this, you know,” Akio whispered. “There’s a reason she said she loved you.”

Tears formed in Wakaba’s eyes, her lips trembling. She shook her head, mouthed something Utena couldn’t understand. All the while, her leg slid between Utena’s, growing ever more intimate.

Utena looked her in the eye, hoping Akio could see her. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered back. “Stop doing this to her.”

“The challenge is for you both,” Akio said, then licked away one of Wakaba’s tears that had fallen to the corner of her lips. “Come to me, and prove you have a right to exist, that you have the right to leave the one who made you what you are. Prove that you’re not mine.

“Do this, and I will allow you both to live free.”

Wakaba slid back, and stood at the castle threshold, hands folded before herself, looking calm and proper save for the tears streaked down her face, save for the redness around her eyes and her pale, blotched cheeks. “Do you accept?”

Fighting back tears, Utena stared. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“If you don’t know. . . .” The smirk that grew on Wakaba’s face was distinctly not her own, and the fear in her eyes made the expression warped and grievous. “Then maybe you’re not as free as you think.”

Morpheus held up one hand, his palm pressed to the air at the edge of the doorway. “Enough,” he said. “My realm or yours, there are rules to offering any challenge. What time do they have to answer?”

“As long as they wish,” Akio said. Wakaba didn’t move. “I’ll send someone by tomorrow to see if you’ve made up your mind.”

“Fine,” Utena spat. “But leave Wakaba out of this from now on.”

Wakaba’s lips pursed. “Oh. There’s no need to worry about that. See you soon.”

As Utena watched, a tiny square of cloth on Wakaba’s tattered uniform disappeared - no. Utena’s eyes widened, and she gasped. The cloth was gone but the part of Wakaba it covered was gone as well. A tiny part of her had ceased to exist.

“Wakaba!” Utena reached for her, and her hand slammed against an invisible wall. She glanced at Morpheus, who still held his hand raised.

“I will not allow Akio’s further influence,” he said. “She is not welcome here.”

Another square disappeared, a part of Wakaba’s leg, then the tip of her left ear. There was no blood, no sign of a wound, just pieces there one moment and gone the next. Wakaba stared at her, at Anthy, at the castle and all around herself. The dazed look on her face slowly changed to one of horrible recognition.

“. . . Utena?” Wakaba whispered.

No, Utena thought. Akio had left her, was destroying her . . . and in Wakaba’s last moments, he’d let her remember.

Pieces of Wakaba began to disappear faster, leaving her pocked with bloodless holes. Utena could see the morning light behind her.

“Wakaba!” she shouted, pounding both hands on the invisible barrier. She pressed her forehead to it, heedless of the tears forming in her eyes.

Wakaba screamed her name, over and over, as the last of her legs disappeared one bit at a time. She put her hands to the barrier, beat at it until she bled, until her hands disappeared as well.

Utena forced herself to turn away, glared at Morpheus. “Can’t you do something?” she choked.

“No,” Morpheus said quietly. “She is not mine to save.”

When Utena looked back, all that remained was Wakaba’s face, and she made herself watch as Wakaba’s eyes, filled with a futile horror, disappeared piece by piece. Her last scream faded into the morning air, and she was gone, as though she had never been.

Utena collapsed to her knees, tears falling to the stone beneath her. So that was how it would be. That was what Akio could do to her, if he wanted. She felt Anthy next to her, hands on her shoulders, and tried to draw some comfort from that. But all she could see was the look on Wakaba’s face through her last moments.

Once, Wakaba had told her that her mother had said she was the Onion Princess. She’d even found someone she had thought to be her prince. But in the end, Utena thought, Wakaba had been a princess she couldn’t save.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Morpheus said, his voice sounding like it came from far away. “And--”

“He’s not going to stop, is he?” Utena asked Anthy. The other woman’s eyes were open wide, fear clear on her face. “I thought - I thought if we got you away, he’d leave us alone.”

“He won’t,” Anthy whispered. Her voice quivered. “If he wants you, he won’t give up until you’re his. It was like that . . . all the time.”

Utena pulled Anthy close, trying not to think about all that Anthy suggested. Akio had wanted Anthy, and had spent years making her his own. She knew better than anyone what Akio was capable of. And now . . . the only way to free her, the only way to make sure they’d both be free, was to go back and face him one last time.

Steeling herself, Utena risked a glance at the open doorway. She’d had a faint hope that there would be some sign of Wakaba left behind, a scrap of cloth or maybe even her missing shoe, showing up here in search of its mate by some twist of what passed for logic in dreams. Nothing. That, she told herself, was who she was up against. Someone who could make her disappear completely, and if she lost his challenge. . . .

If she lost, she’d be his again, or she would cease to be. Utena took a deep breath. She couldn’t let either of those happen.

Utena raised her head, still holding Anthy close, and looked at Morpheus, her mouth set in a frown. “I’ll accept his challenge.”

“That may not be necessary. I’ve spoken with my sister.” Morpheus paused. Utena took a deep breath and waited. “The only way to remove Akio’s influence on Anthy without his assistance is to kill him.”

Anthy’s shivering stopped. Utena felt the other woman shift, and start to pull away. She grasped for Anthy’s hands, felt how cold they were, caught her before she could escape. “Anthy?”

“Could you?” Anthy whispered. It was unclear whom she asked.

Morpheus shook his head. “There are certain circumstances when I’m allowed to take a life. This is not one of them. Destroying one of my siblings’ creations would cause problems as well.”

“I need a sword,” Utena said, hardly able to believe she’d said it. Could she kill him? If it meant her freedom, then . . . she had to. “Can you--”

“No!” Anthy cried, and wrenched herself free of Utena’s grasp.

Utena quickly got to her feet as Anthy stumbled back. Anthy’s hands covered her own face, her head shaking back and forth, tendrils of purple hair falling down all around her. Utena stepped toward her, then stumbled back as Anthy thrust a hand at her.

“Anthy!” Utena tried to rise, found that she couldn’t move. “Anthy, please! I have to--”

“No.” Anthy’s voice was little more than a gasp, and she peered out from between her fingers, strands of hair falling across her face. “You don’t understand. Once you’re there again, he’ll - he’ll have you.”

“He’s given a challenge,” Morpheus said, still calm. “He’s bound by its rules.”

Anthy shook her head again. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, but the fear was still clear. “Once you’re there, he’ll make you forget again,” she said. “Whatever you wanted to say, you won’t. You’ll forget why you brought a sword.” She shook again, then her breathing slowly became slower, more even. She stood up straight, raised her head, and let her hand fall to her side.

“You were the only one who cared enough to try to help me,” Anthy said. “I won’t forget that. And I can’t let him make you forget too.”

When Anthy spoke again, her voice was steady, determined if not calm. “Utena. I can’t let you go back. And I know you won’t go without me.”

Utena nodded, started to say something, then froze. That look in Anthy’s eyes - where had it come from? Where had she seen it before?

Anthy closed her eyes, bowed her head so that her hair fell over her face. When she raised her head again, the mark on her forehead had grown, larger and red, and as Utena watched, a teardrop-shaped drop of red grew from beneath it.

Utena gasped. The mark was the same as the one on the picture of Anthy in Lucien’s book, in the census of dreams.

“Thank you, Utena,” Anthy said, pain and love and fear in her eyes. “I hope we’ll meet again someday.”

Anthy dropped through the floor and was gone.

Suddenly able to move again, Utena threw herself at the place Anthy had been, fell to the floor, pounded on the stone, screamed out for Anthy. No. She’d been so close, she’d found her again - only another day or two, and they would have found a way to stop Akio, even if it’d meant. . . .

Utena whipped around and faced Morpheus. “Where is she?” she cried.

“She is. . . .” A confused look crossed Morpheus’s face. “Anthy has thrown herself into the Dreaming. She’s reaching for the waking world, though she’s making her own way there. She is dreaming.”

“She’s dreaming?” Utena slowly got to her feet, wiped at her tears. “But I thought she was a dream.”

Morpheus held out a hand to her. “Come.”

* * *

The two of them stood once more in Morpheus’s scrying chamber, the light from the pool at the center reflecting off of the black stone walls. Utena stared at the vision there in the water as she tried understand what it meant.

She was looking at herself but not herself, a short-haired girl with her name and voice clad in a stylized uniform of ruler-edged black and white. The not-her sat in a classroom with dozens of blackboards on cords, shifting back and forth, on an abstract Ohtori campus done in red and white and black, all the buildings angular and shifting about as though on rails.

“What is this?” Utena whispered, half-afraid of the answer. What had Anthy created?

“Her dream,” Morpheus said. “Her wish, I would guess, of how she wants things to be.”

Utena watched the dream-her cross the bizarre campus, watched her have a chilly and convoluted conversation with someone who seemed to be Touga but was far more kind and princely than he’d ever been. It seemed . . . they’d been together once, the dream-her and that Touga, and separated for some reason.

How could this be what Anthy wanted? Maybe . . . no. Utena put a hand to her mouth as she realized. This was the Touga as he’d wanted to be, the prince, stripped down to the core of what he wished he could be.

Then who, in the dream, was she?

Utena kept watching, saw her dream-self find the ring within a rose and ascend through the bizarre architecture to a garden of nothing but red roses, a raised diamond-shaped platform where Anthy stood, as she’d appeared in the book of dreams.

“Is that--” she began, then stopped when Morpheus put a finger to his lips.

A moment later, Utena began to understand why those of the Dreaming remembered Anthy so differently than she herself had. The Anthy in the vision was friendly, forward, even flirtatious, though that disappeared when Saionji appeared and challenged Utena to a duel.

Utena couldn’t help smiling a bit at that. This Saionji was little more than a brute, a fierce boy who thought only with his sword. And then-

The dream-Utena’s improvised sword broke, and Anthy threw herself at her, and they kissed.

“Anthy. . . .” Utena watched, her mouth partly open, as her dream-self drew the Sword of Dios from Anthy following their kiss, following her transformation and Anthy’s as well. Was this . . . was this how Anthy saw her, was this what Anthy wanted from her? Did Anthy want to be with her as. . . .

She looked up at Morpheus, her questions clear on her face. He gave no answer, but gestured to the pool again, bidding her to continue watching. She did.

Anthy’s dream continued. A scene after the duel, when Anthy came to Utena’s room, made her feelings quite clear, as did a moonlit dance in the flooded rose garden some time later and a curiously intimate session of drawing each others’ portraits. There was only one other duel, against Juri in full view of the rest of the school, which led to another revelation.

In Anthy’s dream, she killed Akio herself, or caused him to commit suicide; the body lay hidden beneath Ohtori, uprooted for a Kanae who did nothing but cry. He seemed such a fool in his brief scene, and Utena had to wonder if Anthy was being at least a little vindictive.

It seemed well-deserved, and she smiled again.

The dream grew more and more abstract, and by the time it ended, Utena stood with her mouth open, watching Anthy drive a pink car that had been Utena’s dream-self not long before down a twisting highway that led to the real world, dodging hundreds of black cars that seemed to be nearly everyone else from Ohtori. The castle appeared, as it had been above the arena, with dozens of crushing wheels, and Anthy somehow found the inspiration to make her way through safely.

Akio arrived again at the end, and together, Utena’s dream-self and Anthy destroyed him, shattering him into a cloud of rose petals and nothing more.

The dream ended with Utena and Anthy in a lovers’ embrace as they sped down the road on what was left of the car, and Utena looked again to Morpheus. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “That’s . . . what she wants?”

“Even in her dream, she wants to take you with her.” Morpheus looked at her, a kind expression on his face. “She may be gone soon. Now, prince-girl, what would you do?”

Utena steadied herself and gave him her answer.