From: mew3point14@doramail.com (Daniel Snyder)

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful bride. She knew love, and she 
knew what it was to be loved. But she was proud, too, and resolved not 
to give herself to anyone.

"On day of her wedding, she was dressed in her most beautiful gown and 
surrounded by everyone she loved. But she frowned, because she was proud 
and she had only half-chosen her husband-to-be. Although she knew him by 
the word of others, she had never seen his face.

"'Smile and love your husband,' they all shouted, 'smile and love your 
husband.' And the longer she did not smile, the louder they shouted, and 
the more impatient everyone became.

"Finally, she swallowed her pride and smiled weakly. In that moment, her 
bridegroom came to her. She saw him for the first time.

"He was beautiful to look upon, and charming in his bearing. Willingly, 
she smiled then. Willingly, she married him.

"What was the name of the bride?"
--
Saturday had come, and the picnic was underway in the parkland near 
Feuervogel's entrance. Blankets and tables had been set up parallel to 
the main walkway, placed here and there all across the western half. 
White was the dominant color again: white and red tablecloths, white 
cups, white plates for the barbecue, white bento boxes with dark green 
tops.

Students were still dressed in their uniforms from the morning's 
studies. On the eastern side, games were being played under the bright 
sun. A cluster of boys improvised a game of tag, where players holding 
tennis balls were the only ones who could be tagged; if another person 
didn't catch the ball when it was thrown to him, he became It. A mixed 
group of boys and girls was taking turns hitting a shuttlecock around. 
Their lazy manner suggested their contentment. There was no competition, 
only joy in their mutual company and the sight of white feathers curving 
on a parabolic path through the blue sky.

The faculty moved in threes and fives, gossiping about the state of the 
school and their lives. Detachment separated them from their students, 
professional care that unwittingly slipped into their personal lives. 
The student body paid careful attention to them without inviting 
attention. Teachers represented a terrible but tangible unknown. The 
faculty had complete and utter control over the students' lives, in 
theory, and only a sublime trust assured them that their grades would be 
fair. Here at the picnic, outside of the classroom, their teachers 
seemed be willing to take advantage of that trust and expect their 
students to be casual. Yyet there was no guarantee that a student would 
not be held responsible for his or her comments or actions. Confusion 
and distrust kept the integration from going forward.

There was sunshine and the color white, action and inaction, detachment 
and confusion. One girl moved through it all with exuberance, an eager 
puppy watching a treat come her way. Takatsuki Shiori's plans were 
coming to fruition. The food, the games, the coordination, the polite 
suggestions and the opinionated foresight--all had come about. The 
picnic was underway. Best of all, everyone seemed happy, or at least in 
need of nothing. Shiori smothered her relief in polite smiles and small 
talk.

At once, a voice, mellow as a teenaged boy's could be, drew her 
attention. Kaji Ryouji joined her at the side of the picnic table where, 
a moment before, she had been helping herself to a well-deserved plate 
of melon balls. "I heard that you had practically taken over the job of 
coordinating the picnic," he remarked through his smirk. "I'm sincerely 
impressed. You've managed to put together a little something for 
everyone here, that's...very commendable."

Shiori could say nothing for a few moments. Kaji Ryouji was acknowledged 
to be the handsomest boy on campus. Every inch of his body conveyed a 
devil-may-care attitude, supremely self-confident and suave. His chest 
filled out the jacket he wore. A little stubble on his face hinted that 
his maturity had graced him with...other things. There were fine hairs 
on the back of his neck. Shiori wondered about what it would be like to 
touch those hairs. Since his former girlfriend had been taken invalid, 
there were rumors that he was available...

Kaji moved closer to her, closer than was polite. "I was wondering if I 
could talk to you about the upcoming election. I don't think that the 
past Council really got a fair representation. Even though, yes, I'll be 
the first to admit that there were Duels, it wasn't really the Council 
who was responsible. Ask anyone, and I'm sure you'll see that we were 
doing the right thing every single time. We did...the very best we 
could."

"Uh-huh," said Shiori, half-lost by the intensity--not the logic--of his 
argument.

He took her hand. "I'm so glad so see my point of view, Miss Takatsuki. 
So, I have a favor to ask of you...would you support my election? For 
the position of President of the Student Council? I'm eager for the 
chance to represent such a respectable--and beautiful--young lady as 
yourself."

"Kah...Kah...Kaji-san," Shiori stammered, "I'd...of course. Yes, I 
would."

"I'm so happy," Kaji said with a smile. He patted her hand and returned 
it to her side. "Your endorsement means more to me than I can tell you. 
If you could, then, commend me and my colleagues to all of your friends 
and classmates. Because you can make the difference, Miss Takatsuki. 
You're someone important, and people will listen to you. With you with 
me, I'm sure I can provide the best government for the school."

"Yes, Kaji-san!"

"Then, if you will excuse me, I'll leave you to your lunch." Kaji 
pointed to the fruit on the plate of fruit before her, then turned and 
walked off. Not sparing a second look at Shiori, he threaded his way 
through the student throng to where two other former council members 
were seated. Akagi Ritsuko was seated beneath one of the trees that 
lined the walkway, dressed in a regulation blouse and a long skirt. Her 
blond hair was well-combed, an anomaly. Her nose showed no sign of the 
blows that had torn apart her life weeks before. She was listlessly 
picking at a plate of rice and a few vegetables. Beside her, leaning up 
against the tree, Hyuuga Makoto was also making an effort to look good 
with combed hair and a freshly-cleaned jacket. He was eating no food; he 
had only a look of aloof boredom that Kaji ignored.

"Well," the former President explained, "I've just been making the 
rounds. All things considered, people support the three of us returning 
to our old jobs. One or two people are also bucking for positions, but 
nobody important. It seems like the next three weeks will be smooth 
sailing."

Hyuuga started to speak, but Akagi cut him off. "Have you noticed 
anything odd when you were talking to people?" she asked.

Kaji smirked. "Give me a hint, Rit-chan. This is Feuervogel. Weird shit 
happens. What did you have in mind?"

"About the petitions...about the way the petitioning was done?"

"Yes, I suppose." Kaji took Hyuuga's position against the tree while the 
younger boy sat. "Nobody mentioned who was behind the petition. They 
always said, 'that guy' or 'a young man', but nobody could remember who 
he was or what he looked like. Or even why they signed. That was kind of 
funny."

"Ritsuko had the bright idea," Makoto piped up, "that it was Michimoto 
who was behind the petition...the connection being, the letter we 
received."

Akagi said nothing while Kaji considered the idea. "Well, the timing of 
the letter is right, but...that seems so absurd. Why would he get us 
into the Student Council if he was planning to scuttle us all along? 
Unless he really wants Shekhinah, and now he's going to move on to 
Ikari. But Ikari's not the type to listen to anonymous letters, is he? 
Rit-chan? You don't think, do you?"

Ritsuko shook her head. "Not from what Maya's told me. I mean...let's 
say you'd gotten the one letter about how the needle lies, and you were 
as paranoid as that boy is. You'd throw it away, wouldn't you? You 
wouldn't wait for the next one to come."

"Uh-huh," Kaji went on, "and what about this strange person who helped 
Maya and Shekhinah with Ikari? Folks, we're onto something here. 
Michimoto is on campus, and he's here for a reason."

"And that reason is...what?" Hyuuga asked.

Kaji shrugged. "Crapshoot. But the point has been proven." He collected 
his thoughts and continued. "What we need to do is collect some 
information on Michimoto Wakamugi. Written records...people, I think, 
are too unreliable. There has to be some record of Michimoto in the 
records at Feuervogel, past or present. He may not be an alumnus, but he 
has to know about the campus. Hyuuga, I want you to start cracking the 
books. I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

"My pleasure," Hyuuga replied ebulliently.

"Rit-chan, I want you to keep leaning on Maya for the time--what's the 
matter?"

Ritsuko was looking northward up the path, towards the school itself; 
Kaji and Hyuuga followed her gaze, and that of many others, to where two 
people were coming delicately to join the party. Suzuhara Touji was 
seated in a wheelchair, dressed in his summer white uniform. His right 
prosthetic hand rested in his lap, while his left hand drummed 
impatiently on the hand rest. At his back was Sohryu Asuka Langley, 
cautiously pushing him along. Across her excavated scar she wore an 
eyepatch of thick white cotton. Her hair was pulled back from her face 
into a single thick ponytail. In place of a uniform, she wore a calf-
length dress of white and black. On her feet were large black boots with 
platform soles, laced up halfway her shins.

As she pushed Touji in the wheelchair, Asuka almost shuffled, her steps 
were so deliberate; and the sight of a girl in mismatched clothes, so 
utterly unlike to the person the school had known before, was almost 
comical. Asuka looked very much like a cow, a beast of burden mindlessly 
performing its humiliating task. But Asuka's face spoiled the 
comparison. She stared forward not with ignorance but with a serene kind 
of determination, focused on not making a single misstep. If Death 
itself came up from the south of campus, the willpower of Sohryu Asuka 
Langley could turn it back.

Touji raised his left hand and tapped on Asuka's, where it lay on the 
wheelchair's handlebar. "Hold up a sec," he said as Shinji approached 
the wheelchair. "Good afternoon, Shinji. Glad to see you here, how've 
you been?"

"Hello, Ikari," Asuka added, if not pleasantly, at least courteously.

"Hi there," Shinji said, nodding to Asuka and Touji. "It's...a 
surprise...a good surprise, I mean, to see you both here. How've you 
been, Touji? How was your first night back in the dorm?"

"It was just fine," Touji replied. "Things went well, Shigeru helped me 
get settled in for the night. Not that he wanted to admit it, ya know, 
but I think he wanted someone around, since Mitsuru...you know. 
Disappeared or whatever. Don't think he's gonna make it today."

Shinji nodded. "So your room's been fixed up for you to get around in? 
Did Shigeru-kun help you, too?"

"Did everything but change my catheter," Touji said with a smirk. It 
disappeared a moment later as Asuka hit him with an open palm. "Don't 
say disgusting things, Touji, and ESPECIALLY not at a picnic! You're 
unbelievable." She paid no mind to what Touji was saying under his 
breath and spoke much more pleasantly to Shinji. "I presume you've had a 
chance to look over the picnic, Ikari? What do you recommend?"

"Well...I'm having tempura, and some noodles. There's sushi and 
sashimi..."

"Aw, that's no good. Is there anything besides the usual rice and fish 
variations?"

"Whaddaya mean, that's no good? Shinji!" Touji reached out and tugged at 
the boy's wrist. "Snag us some yakitori, with lots of green onions on 
one helping. An' grab us a chair for Asuka to sit in."

Asuka leaned down over Touji. "I don't need a chair," she said, gently 
but firmly.

"Yeah you do! There's nowhere to park off the pathway. You can't just be 
standing to eat your lunch!"

"I _do_ know how to operate chopsticks when I'm standing up. Hey, 
Ikari..."

He had been about to go, hoping to make an escape before the argument 
enveloped him. Asuka's voice made him turn, just in time for the light 
to fall _so_, for the breeze to pick up...in that imago moment between 
heartbeats, Suzuhara Touji and Sohryu Asuka Langley were framed in the 
young boy's mind. Maybe they were not a couple, maybe it was not love. 
But it was the case that two young people, facing incalculable 
challenges in their lives, had found equanimity in each other, and the 
courage to share that tranquil feeling with the world.

"...thanks for your troubles," Asuka said quietly, giving the moment its 
fermata.

"Yes," Shinji said, and then turned away to hold the moment in his mind. 
The next thing he knew, he was standing at the refreshment table, 
picking out cans of juice for his friends to drink with lunch. Ibuki 
Maya was standing next to him with a half-eaten okonamiyaki on her 
plate. "Boy, those two are acting like they're already married," she 
remarked to Shinji. "Who'd have thought it?"

"Oh, hi, Maya. I didn't hear you." Shinji looked at Maya's expectant 
expression and the way her hands were clasped behind her back, and said, 
"Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Ask you, actually," she admitted. "Does the name 'Michimoto Wakamugi' 
mean anything to you?"

_What a weird name,_ Shinji thought. Maya didn't seem like she was 
playing a joke on him, so Shinji answered honestly, "I haven't heard of 
him. Should I have?"

"Um..." Maya shook her head, then explained, "We heard that he was the 
person who was petitioning for the Student Council's recall. But nobody 
knew for certain, and I guess that that includes you, right?"

It was Shinji's turn to be baffled. "I hadn't even heard that you had 
lost your position. My condolences. Nobody came to me about it...or Rei, 
I think. Does that mean you lose your rings, too?"

"Eh?"

He pointed to the ring with the rose design on Maya's left finger. "All 
the members of the Student Council--or former Student Council, anyway
--
had those rings. Do you have to give them back to the faculty now, or 
something?"

Maya shook her head blankly, an amused smile on her face. The amusement 
lasted only a few seconds. Then Maya froze and quickly locked her gaze 
with Shinji's. "It's coincidence," she said hurriedly. "Just like how 
you came in with one. Pure coincidence. So! I guess I'd better talk to 
Rei, too."

"I guess," he replied, mystified by the abrupt end to what had been a 
perfectly pleasant conversation. He had no more time than to watch 
Maya's departure before the Kirishima Mana's voice broke in on his 
thoughts. "'Good afternoon, Mister Shinji.' How are you this afternoon?"

"Sensei!" Shinji turned and quickly bowed, being careful not to spill 
his food and drinks. Kirishima was dressed in a long white dress with 
white and blue trim. The light skirts were easily caught and blown 
around by the summer breezes: their shadows skipped up and down the back 
of her legs. In spite of the bright sun she wore a happy smile and no 
hat.

"Have you had a chance to read that bilingual manga I recommended to 
you?" she asked.

"I--I'm afraid not, I haven't, sensei," Shinji said with only a trace of 
regret in his voice. "I've been neglecting my sword practice, and Rei 
needed help in the greenhouse, and of course, schoolwork, you know. But 
I will."

"It's the only way to learn a language," Kirishima explained. "You must 
immerse yourself in it totally. What a pity you can't go and study in 
America or Australia." She took one of the juices out of Shinji's hand 
and drank half of it in one go. "You should make the most of what you've 
got in this world. English, or schoolwork, or food and drink, whatever 
it must be. Give yourself to it, Shinji."

"That was my friend's drink..."

Kirishima laughed. "You can get him another one, can't you?" she said, 
pointing to the cooler just next to him. "What's so important about any 
one juice, or any one thing, when there's so many around you that will 
do just as well? Remember that, Shinji."

She smiled again, and his outburst was quickly forgotten. Kirishima 
tried to interest him in more conversation, but it was not long before 
the boy was stammering excuses and farewells. Kirishima waved goodbye, 
and threaded her way away through the crowd. Faculty and students moved 
aside for her like they surpressed an unpleasant dream. She walked 
unhindered past the picnic, around the games, departing alongside the 
merchandising kiosk.

"EXTRA, EXTRA! Read all about it!"

"Today's special advertising section features--Genuine Student Council 
Rings!"

"Exactly like the real ones worn by the former Student Council Members! 
And that other guy."

"Tell me--how much do they cost?"

"They're completely free."

"Really? Really? That sounds kind of suspicious to me."

"Do they come with any conditions?"

"Not telling."

"Can just anyone get one? Or do you have to have some kind of 
qualification or quality?"

"Can they be returned if there's a problem with them?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Have you heard? Have you heard? People call them Seals of the Living 
Rose. Is that what they're really called?"

"What does that mean, anyway? Am I getting myself into something I don't 
understand?"

"Who cares?"

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'll take three."

"(Psst--where are you going to wear them?)"

"Come back tomorrow! We'll have some matching ones in black."

"Oo. That won't go with these rings, I'm afraid."

"Why do I feel confused by this whole deal? Am I a bad person?"
--
"Let us begin," Michimoto said, "with the following statement--'Incest 
is the ultimate act of egotism.' Start from there."

"It's true," Misato said, sadly as spoiled milk. "Everything he wanted 
in me, he worshipped in himself. Emotion, youth, vitality, I guess."

She shifted her position and began unpeeling the layers of skin. "I 
remember when my mother left him. I laughed at him. I saw the pain in 
his eyes, and I laughed anyway. I remember thinking that, if it was me 
there, I wouldn't want my own daughter laughing at me, no matter how 
much I'd earned it. Of course, I laughed anyway. Don't know if I really 
regretted it.

"Tried to forget him. Forget him. Maybe that act was the end of my 
innocence. Was I ever innocent? Beyond fault, whatever? Or did he bring 
it upon me? Shit, I don't know. It's all so confused. It's easy today, 
ten years later, to invent memories and mix them all together with what 
what really happened, and then it all looks so ugly.

"Those years on the West Coast of the US were the greatest in my life. I 
discovered gardening. All you had to do was plant seeds, and pull up 
weeds for a few minutes every day, and hope for sunshine, and then up 
came all kinds of things." There was still no shred of happiness in her 
tone. "Vegetables you could eat yourself or share with your friends, and 
pretty flowers to give to the teacher at school. My mother would take me 
out to the forests in the mountains of Oregon and Northern California 
when she got time off from work, and...I couldn't believe it when she 
told me that these huge, beautiful trees had grown from tiny seeds. And 
that the moss hanging from them lived off of fog. And the mushrooms, and 
all the plants, they were so full of life. You could put your hand down 
into the forest floor, and feel it like there was a pulse of life right 
there.

"They're all dead and gone now, of course..."

She shook her head. "I didn't know why my mother didn't approve of me 
joining the Mushroom Club. Of course, she wanted to be fair to me, and I 
didn't really know that that was what my father studied. Neither of us 
thought of it when the scholarship to Feuervogel came our way."

Michimoto nodded, listening intently.

"I came to school," Misato went on. She was struggling to find her words 
again. "I came here to get an education. I'm not stupid, I knew that it 
was important for me to put my education ahead of...you know. Personal 
things. Trivia. That was what I told myself. I practically locked myself 
in my room and studied."

"It was an excuse," Michimoto stated.

"It was an excuse...to avoid...him." She choked on the last word. "He 
would do all kinds of crazy things to get me to come along and be with 
him, and eventually I...did. I kind of liked the attention. And people 
talked. They thought it was weird that I wouldn't do anything with my 
own father. I'm...not insensitive to talk. Bad of me, I know. He'd try 
to make me smile with jokes, or get me to make friends with my teachers. 
One moment I'd love it for the attention I was getting, feeling all 
grown-up and somebody, and then the next moment I'd hate it for the same 
reason. He was a jerk. He showed me off whether I liked it or not, and I 
liked it. I felt like I had no dignity as a person anymore--to be given 
what I wanted without any control."

"And your body was changing," Michimoto interjected, changing the 
subject slightly. "Without your control, either."

Misato sniffled. "I tried to tell myself...it was just coincidence...I 
have really irregular periods, and...there was this, like, for six 
months, where...I'd go on the rag, and then, right as soon as I was 
done, blam. My father had had something planned for the two of us, like, 
a day or two later. Right after my flow, I get...well, anyway, I 
somehow--stupidly--got it into my head that he had a kind of sixth 
sense, or something. It followed that I was losing control of my body to 
him, too. Like he was deciding how I was developing.

"It's crazy, I know. But he was also...his touches...it wasn't anything 
he was doing, I guess, I was just aware that when his hand was around my 
waist, he was...close...And then there were times when he'd say the most 
innocent thing, like 'I care about you,' or 'You're important to me,' 
something ANY father would say to his daughter, and I'd look in his 
eyes, and I'd be afraid! And who was going to believe me? Hadn't I been 
saying all along that I'd been having a good time, and that I was glad 
he was my father? It was absolutely mad! Nobody was go...going 
to...believe that I was...afra...afraid..."

Misato's anxiety had given her a sudden case of hiccups in place of 
tears. As she recovered her breath, Michimoto prompted her again. "Talk 
about that night," he said.

When she was ready, Katsuragi Misato took up her story again. "I want to 
say it was his fault...the way it turned out. Because he was the one who 
wanted Akumafune to be co-educational. Did that make a difference? We 
all thought so, at the time. Now I think it's all got to do with Ikari. 
But I'm so confused. I don't know what to believe in my heart...why did 
I say that? Strange. Heh heh heh...

"I'm laughing. I'm laughing at a time like this. What kind of a beast am 
I?

"He did it. My father said that it would be coeducational. He organized 
the party as a distraction. I never saw it coming. He said he could 
smell something from me. I had no control anymore. I couldn't fight it. 
Him. I remember all the smells, and the rough branches of the bushes 
where we were. I was so scared, but...no...I don't want to say it...

"But it's the truth, so...

"I can't say it...

"It's not that any part of me wanted to fuck my own father. But I got so 
tired of fighting him, of pushing him away...I...part of me...wanted it 
to be over and done with. It was like a hiccup. Just a quick flinch, and 
then it would all be over, he'd be done with me, and I could go and cry.

"That wasn't what happened. He never...penetrated...me. 
He...kept...pawing at me, and looking at me, rubbing his face...all 
around me. He was rubbing himself, he was getting off...on...having me 
under him, all around him. Having someone just like himself, to..."

Two minutes passed, marked only by Misato's gasping for air. Michimoto 
broke the silence. "And even then, it didn't end."

"We heard the screaming from Akumafune," Misato explained in a dried 
tinder voice. "Father was off of me in almost an instant. He staggered 
up towards the dormitory, like he was drunk, and he said...something. I 
was struggling to get myself dressed again, I'll never know what he 
said, or why. By the time I was feeling halfway decent, he'd run around 
all over the place setting off every fire alarm. To alarm people. I 
had...kind of realized what was going on inside the dorm, that people 
were dying, or at least in trouble. The last I saw of my father, he was 
running inside Akumafune itself, screaming that he had to save anyone he 
could."

"What did you see in the window?" Michimoto asked.

"I saw a monster."

"What did it look like?"

"It looked...it looked like a huge, horrible rose bush."

"Have you seen it since?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"It brought me safely home to my dorm room from my duel with Ikari 
Shinji."

Michimoto nodded and stiffened in his chair. "And how does it feel, to 
owe your life to the thing that horrifically murdered your own father 
right before your eyes? The father who tried to make you welcome at 
school, and sent your mother alimony checks every month, and was trying 
to have your virginity in a juniper hedge moments before he was mauled 
to death?"

That question was the one that made Katsuragi Misato cry. "I DON'T 
FUCKING KNOW!" she burst out. "God damn it all, why did he have to be an 
asshole every moment of every day, except when it counted? Who the fuck 
ever said that the right thing to do was be a jerk all day long and only 
shine when someone else's fucking life depends on it? Is that really all 
it is? Is that all it really is?"

"It is possible to achieve a true vision of the world around you," 
Michimoto intoned. "One unclouded by human falibilty. One where the 
panic of the situation or the sins of the past have no hold. When the 
revolution is accomplished, human nature will be struck asunder with a 
clap of thunder."

"Really?"

"Really. Submit to your own nature, and you will walk with God. Come 
with me." The door to her bedroom swung open. Misato stood up, trembling 
from her hips down to the ground, staring blankly at the vacant space. 
"Silent with your sin, you have paid in guilt for your salvation. We 
will feed you well. There's a revolution calling you."

Misato began to take tiny baby steps to the door.

"Hiccup."

Michimoto nodded. "Hiccup."