#and Fakir and Duck are the people that understand that nuance is a thing but also people should be held accountable for being shitty

[nicnacsnonsense]

Fully convinced that Drosselmeyer is one of those writers who believes his writing is Deep and Profound because it’s dark, but it’s actually just deeply shitty on a technical level with no real understanding of character or themes or even what the purpose of writing dark and tragic things is.

[princesstutufandemonium]

Rapsblüte no Yoru (Princess Tutu epilogue skit) and my thoughts

Or: Why a bitch is still salty after 9 years

So, as previously mentioned on this blog, there was a skit presented at a Princess Tutu convention in 2004 by series creator Ikuko Itoh and chief director Junichi Sato called “Rapsblüte no Yoru.” It takes place about a year after the anime’s ending and serves to wrap up some loose ends about the characters and their feelings - particularly Ahiru and Mytho.

So I’ve talked about it before, but now more time has passed, so I thought I’d let the raging monster out of its slumber to REALLY address the epilogue and my own uncensored thoughts and feelings about it. Half of this ended up reading like a rant, really, but I just had to get it all out there. 

Here is the skit, as recited by Japanese blogger Goma and translated by LiveJournal user csakuras, along with my reactions and thoughts, which are indicated by the blockquotes.

"Quaack.." Ahiru seems to be swimming on the river during a night with a beautiful moon It's been a while since then, and every day I'm happy. It's fun talking with my bird friends, and Madam Pelican is a little noisy, but...it's fun. And besides......whenever I look up, Fakir is always there.

So Ahiru has returned to life as a bird and has settled in well. Good for her.

Ahiru: "I've come all the way to Gold Crown Academy....somehow I feel like dancing." Saying that, Ahiru climbs onto the bank and is surprised to find the whole surface covered with rape blossoms. Ahiru: "Gwak!!" Autor: "Oh? What's this?" It seems he stepped on Ahiru.. Ahiru: "Gwakgwak!!" Ahiru protests. Autor: "Oh it's you, Ahiru-kun...isn't Fakir with you?" Autor backs away as Ahiru tries to talk to him. Autor: "Sorry, but could you not get so close? I'll start sneezing from my bird allergies." (The mystery of his dislike of birds is solved.) Ahiru: "Charon-san and Raetsel-san had a child so Fakir went to the celebration."

The idea of this seems to negate all of Raetsel’s development, but okay then.

Autor: "I see....by the way, did you come to see the Night of Rapsblüte too?" Ahiru: "Rap..Rapsblüte?" Ahiru asks curiously. Ahiru: "Rapsblüte are rape blossoms, right?" Here, Autor goes Hnph! with his nose as if making fun of her. Autor: "The Night of Rapsblüte is when once every 50 years, all the rape blossoms bloom simultaneously on a night of the full moon. According to what I've researched in the library, in the records of a student from 50 years ago, there is an eye-witness account." Ahiru heaves a sigh (lol) Autor: "And tonight, the weather, the date, everything matches with the past data!" Autor is full of confidence. "Besides that, you're in the music department so maybe you should be studying piano instead..." Ahiru mutters. Autor: "Did you say something?" Ahiru: "Huh? Autor can understand me." Hnph, he laughs at her with his nose again. Autor: "Anything can happen tonight and it wouldn't be strange." Ahiru: "The moon is so pretty..." (Here, a man wearing a mask of the moon appears from behind..it's a great hit in the assembly) Autor: "What's that? An onion?" Ahiru: "!!" Uzura: "Ho~ Ahiru zura~" *Tototon* (her drum) Ahiru: "Uzura-chan!!" Ahiru: "Uzura-chan! Where were you?" Uzura: "I've been wandering the interval of time with the old man zura."

WHAT does that even mean?! What is the interval of time?! Considering Uzura’s previous life as Edel, it’s surprising that Uzura chooses to stick with Drosselmeyer. He’s the one who put her Ahiru and Fakir through so much trouble, after all. Then again, Uzura is a child and probably has no memory or idea of the role Drosselmeyer played and the evil things he did. Uzura also isn’t human, so maybe human morals don’t bother her as much.

Ahiru: "By the old man do you mean Drosselmyer-san? Then where's Drosselmyer-san?" "Drosselmyer?!!" <--(Autor's switch is on) Uzura: "The old man is busy with updating the site zura, sorry he's so irresponsible zura." (Here, Director Satou is rolling with laughter.) Autor: "Why didn't you bring him with you?!" Clearly, his Drosselmyer otaku switch is on lol

I hate you, Autor. I try not to but I do.

Uzura: "One more is coming zura." Autor: "One more?" Mytho: ".......Tutu." Ahiru: "Mytho!!" (I can never forget Ahiru's sad voice here)

Ah, and here it is. The agony.

You know, I could possibly stomach the whole damn ending of the show if the epilogue doesn’t go on to make it entirely clear how heartbroken Ahiru still is. I mean, if Ahiru is actually happy, there’s nothing more you can want for her. But this here kind of ruins it. Like, why?! How am I supposed to be content with her situation when she’s sad at the mere sight of Mytho?!

Mytho: "It's been a while...." Uzura: "He was dancing on the balcony so I brought him zura." (....At your own pace as usual, Prince.) Autor: "Prince Siegfried from the story!! Myu...Mytho-san." (He sounds as emotional as if he were meeting Drosselmyer.) Mytho: "Are you Fakir's friend...?" Autor: "I'm Autor!" Mytho: "You were the one who helped Fakir? Thank you..." (How does he know..)

How DOES he know? Well, there was a tiny time skip between the defeat of the Raven and Mytho and Rue’s departure to the story. Perhaps things were explained a little during then.

Autor: "No! It was an honor." (only dimly remember) Mytho: "If I remember correctly, during our ballet lessons you were asked by Neko-sensei to accompany us on piano." Autor: "Yes, I was asked to accompany you on piano by Neko-sensei 11 times, and I passed by you with Neko-sensei in the hall 27 times." (Jeez, Autor's in high spirits (lol)) Mytho: "Fakir sometimes sees cows and alligators flying in the sky, so I'm worried. Could you take care of Fakir?"

 Mytho seems to naturally be a little bit of an airhead. It’s funny to see that qualities of him that we saw in the anime can be attributed not to his lack of a heart and common sense, but just to how his personality really is. Cute.

Autor: "Yes!! Mytho-san, please leave him to me." (He's been left to him without having a say, Fakir's in a pinch (lol)) Ahiru: "Mytho? How is Rue-chan?" Mytho: "Rue is doing well." Mytho: "It seems Rue is good at singing too and she's a popular princess among the people." Autor: "Rue-san?"

So Rue is a true lady of the arts, not good only at dancing but at singing too. Interesting that she’s so popular, considering that she honestly doesn’t seem to be the most sociable person. Polite, but not going out of her way to be friendly. Perhaps her time in the story with Mytho has defrosted her even more. What is the new Rue like, I wonder?

Uzura: "Mytho is rabu-rabu with Rue zura~" Autor: "Could you be quiet for a while..." His voice is lacking energy and sounds like he might cry (He knows they're rivals in love..is that okay?)

WHY is Autor so torn up over Rue still?! He never even really spent time with her. Foolish kids, I tell you. She was hardly more than a pretty face to him.

Ahiru: "Thank goodness... Mytho. "The Concluding Volume of The Prince and the Raven" got published. It's not a story without an end anymore." Ahiru: "And also, soon Fakir's going to dance an all-male version of La Sylphide with Matthew Bourne-sensei's choreography!"

Soooo this part is confusing. The concluding volume… So The Prince and the Raven was a story published in installments? The show made it look like it was just a single novel. Unless they mean that they simply published an official ending… But if the story was given an ending, wouldn’t that affect the storybook world? And who wrote the ending and got it published, Fakir? A couple of questions that remain here.

Mytho: "Fakir....I always feel like I'm connected with Fakir..the more my country becomes peaceful, I can feel him close by." (It's...mostly dim recollection. Just the nuance of it.)

Yeah, don’t act like you didn’t just up and leave him AND Ahiru once your business was finished, Mytho. Anyways, skipping the salt, does this mean that Fakir’s conclusion to the novel made things more peaceful in the story world? That’s what it sounds like to me.

Actually, isn’t it kind of scary that Fakir can still wield influence over Mytho’s world? What if he got pissed off at him? yikes

Ahiru: "Mytho...." "You should meet Fakir! He's coming back tomorrow..so then.." Mytho: "I can't..I can only come here because the interval of time is connected tonight..see, the moon is already sinking this much." (The man playing the moon sinks down (lol) The assembly bursts into laughter again) "I see..."

WHAT is with this ‘interval of time’ nonsense again! Someone explain it to me!

Also, fuck Fakir, apparently.

Mytho: "Princess Tutu.....thanks to you, I can be like this. Thank you." Ahiru: "I wanted to see you smile, so my wish is already granted." (only dimly remember)

 AND THERE IT FINALLY IS!!!

“Thank you, Tutu, for risking your life to save mine and restore my happiness and holding your tongue about your feelings for me so I could do nothing for you in return and leave hours later.”

No, I’m not salty. Anyways, the abrupt ending to the show without much dialogue was due to time constraints, not necessarily a true display of Mytho’s character, which I guess this epilogue was partly written to fix. It does seem pretty heartless when you watch the anime, though.

Mytho: "Princess Tutu, I wanted to be with you longer. I wanted to talk with you like this longer....to me, you are the light....because you are someone very special..." (?? Mytho/Ahiru?)

See, this is why I just can’t do it. Like, Mytho, are you fucking kidding?! You leave her alone as a duck and now you want to sweet-talk her?!

But actually, all bitterness aside, this is really sad. They obviously care for each other, but because of circumstances and plot, never once did they have the time to really just… talk.

And he still sees her as the light. I saw some people kind of making fun of this, but of COURSE he does. There was a considerable period of time when she was the only person vouching for him, keeping him safe, acting as his voice… and ultimately saving him in every way. He can only be a real person again because of her, and she never faltered in her mission. That’s INCREDIBLE. Of course he would hold her in high regard.

Mytho: "But, I have to protect Rue. Rue needs me...." (I'm sorry, it's completely out of memory...because I was so overwhelmed..(lol) I should take my reeling in moderation)

And here’s the dagger. After talking about how highly he thinks of Ahiru/Tutu… he backtracks by saying Rue needs him.

And you know why this is REALLY fucking sad? He doesn’t say that “But, I really enjoy being with Rue” or “But, I love Rue.”

He says he has to PROTECT Rue. Rue NEEDS him.

I don’t think I need to dive too deep into the implications of his wording to spell out why this is upsetting, but I’ll sum it up quick. Instead of saying he likes being with Rue, he says Rue needs me. That’s the first thing that comes to mind.

And if it means what I think it means, that’s just fucking harsh. That’s not fair for Rue. That’s not fair for Ahiru. That’s not fair for Mytho.

I mean, we all know the prince has a savior-complex, but the implication that he chose Rue because he feels a sense of duty to protect her instead of romantic affection is kind of… tragic. That’s not a happy ending at all, really. Does Rue have any idea?

I think this is why I have an issue with Ruetho, because no matter what you can’t escape the fact that Mytho will always view her through the lens of what she suffered. It’s just in his personality as a heroic, selfless prince. Doesn’t Rue deserve someone who sees her as… more than someone to protect?

Whatever, can’t be changed now.

Mytho: "Tutu...you have done so much for me, but I couldn't do anything for you." "Is there something I can do for you, Tutu?"

WHAT on Earth could he possibly expect to be able to do for her?! I mean, short of turning her human again, but I’m guessing that’s out of the scope of his abilities. Don’t be so bait-y.

Ahiru: "......Mytho! I.........." "No, nevermind..." (Ahiru sounds incredibly sad)

AUGHHHHHHHH

What was she going to say? You know what, probably doesn’t matter anyway. We know what she wants… she can’t have it, though.

Mytho: "It's almost time..." "See you again....Tutu...." (Jeez..I don't remember any of it) Ahiru: "Can we meet again?" Mytho: "Surely we will meet again..." Mytho (or is it Yanagi-san? lol): "We can meet again, when Sakurai-kun is here." (The assembly explodes with laughter)

NOOOOOOOO

No no no

No, do NOT meet again. This is just asking for trouble. Ahiru clearly isn’t over Mytho, and Mytho… clearly does not have his priorities straightened out. If they keep meeting like this…

Well, as the anime shows, it wouldn’t be the first time they put themselves through the wringer for love. Mytho recites something in German. "Waaao!!" <--(Uzura)

What did he say? I’m curious.

Here, Mytho says his never-ending feelings for Tutu (if someone remembers this part please tell me~) And at the end, Mytho: ".......Ahiru."

 ……..Yeahhh, probably not a good idea to meet again.

Like, I get that this epilogue is to ‘tie up loose ends’ including the torched remnants of Mythiru that were dropped so abruptly at the end, but...

Why, oh why, Mytho, did you choose Rue if you’re still hung up on Tutu?

Additionally, we see that Mytho DOES now know that Tutu is Ahiru. That’s bittersweet too, but in more of a good way. He finally knows that the little passionate goofball was the princess all along. I wonder who told him, or how he found out. Did he just figure it out on his own? Like, the duck that was once Princess Tutu must be Ahiru because Ahiru = duck? Maybe Uzura told him? I doubt Fakir would’ve, simply because once she was back to being a duck again permanently, there was really no reason to tell Mytho. Couldn’t much matter anymore, right?

Ahiru: "I get the feeling I heard Mytho's voice at the end." I am a duck....I can't wear toe shoes, I can't dance.. (I'm sorry, I don't remember) But inside my chest there is a sparkling gem that will never be broken. The end.

And that’s it.

Sooo a lot of conflicted feelings coming at me from this, if you couldn’t tell. I guess first is the question of whether or not this could be considered canon.

Honestly? I think so. Both Ikuko Itoh and Junichi Sato, the people behind Princess Tutu, worked on this and presented it. They even had some of the Japanese VAs present to act it out. Additionally, as I’d mentioned previously, it addresses some questions that were left open due to the somewhat rushed ending of the anime’s finale. And nothing presented in this skit goes against the show’s canon or really comes out of left field (aside Charon and Raetsel man tf). It’s short and sweet.

Moving on, the first time I read this I was really happy, simply because it makes it clear that YES, Mytho does return Ahiru’s feelings. Which I guess was clear in the anime too, but this skit makes it undeniable. It’s nice to feel validated.

But as time goes on and I’ve had the chance to chew over and really digest it… It’s kind of a really crappy situation for our heroine and hero. Like, so they are in love, and they want to continue seeing each other… but Mytho is SUPPOSED to be spoken for with Rue, and Ahiru is a duck. Not to mention that Ahiru is Rue’s FRIEND. C’mon girl, chicks before dicks. Of course, they could still interact platonically, but the confession from Mytho in this skit kind of shot that possibility dead. And what about Fakir in this mess? Granted, Fakir isn’t stupid – he’s known that Ahiru loves Mytho from the beginning, and it’s not exactly like he can be in a relationship with a duck. But still.

Maybe I’m just looking too far into things, but with a piece this short and direct, I don’t know how deep you can really dive.

Anyways, my final thoughts are: Mythiru is canon but in the most tragic way possible, Rue deserves better, annnnnnd I’m still left unsatisfied.

[wavervelvett]

fakiru, 9?

fakiru + things you said when i was crying

There are a thousand reasons to leave and only one to stay, but that one is the one he vowed to live his life with, so he’ll just have to suck up everything else and take it because she’s worth it all a thousand times over and more.

He’s dealt with a lot worse, anyway, Fakir reasons. And Ahiru is spending the rest of her life as a duck. He has no right to complain.

Still. That doesn’t make it easy.

He pulls himself out of the academy. He doesn’t see much point in it now, with Mytho and Ahiru both absent from its ranks. And of course he regrets it within a week. Ballet had always been something he had to pick up in order to stay close to Mytho. He hadn’t had a passion for it. But without it, his limbs are full of anxious energy and he finds himself dancing in bare feet late at night in his bedroom while Ahiru sleeps on her designated pillow, just trying to alleviate some stress. He misses the full practice room to lose himself in, the snug fit of his shoes, the music pumping in his blood. But it would be ridiculous now to try to get readmitted to the program when he’s so close to graduation age and just left two weeks ago. So he dances at night while Ahiru sleeps and never complains during the day, because of course she must miss it as well. Talking about ballet will probably just make her feel bad, and he’s done enough of that in his life.

He moves out of Charon’s house about a month after everyone forgets. Fakir had hoped that maybe some people would retain their memories of before, but Charon is just like every other townsperson. He’d bound Fakir’s wounds from that day while giving him a lecture on getting into fights, and then wondered why Fakir had a duck with him. He doesn’t remember Ahiru. He doesn’t remember Uzura. Fakir’s parents died in an accident out of town, not an attack of crows. That would be ridiculous. The sort of thing that only happens in stories.

It’s slightly ironic that Fakir would suppress his memories regarding his parents for so long only for Charon and everyone else to forget as well so soon. But either way, living with Charon while Charon continues to simply not understand is frustrating, and then simply depressing. Plus, he’s sick of explaining to everyone why he carries a duck with him everywhere. After a month of helping Charon in the shop, he goes and gets a job carrying heavy loads at a bakery and pays the landlord for a rundown cottage near the edge of the lake. Ahiru seems very content to bob in the water, so Fakir makes sure she has plenty of food before leaving for work. His time off he spends fixing up the cottage. It’s an exhausting few weeks where all the days seem to blend together, but by the end of summer the cottage has a new roof, a fireplace, sturdy walls, a serviceable kitchen, and the rotten beams in the pier have been replaced. Now, Fakir can carry a chair out to the pier right beside where Ahiru sleeps and spend the day there. He reduces his hours at the bakery a little so he has time in the afternoons now to sit by the lake with his quill and paper, and things are a little better after that. Besides his writing, all they can really communicate with is quacking and vigorous wing pointing, so it’s a relief to begin to scrawl the story of the town across his various journals and hear her voice in his head once more, feel how she feels, that strange and intimate connection he’s still getting used to. Even if what they talk about is mostly gossip, he’s missed it so much.

Fakir pleads with Ahiru to stay safe in her lake while he’s away, and she grants him that. Maybe she understands that Fakir has almost lost her too many times recently to feel at ease knowing she’s wandering about alone where there are carts and oxen and horses and even people who eat ducks and really Fakir can work himself into a panic just thinking about it. So, for now at least, Ahiru’s trips into town are done from the safety of a basket, and the shopping gets packed around her as Fakir moves from shop to shop. He gets quacked at if he doesn’t buy enough corn or bread and quacked at if he doesn’t include milk.

“You don’t even drink milk!” he whispers with exasperation, holding the basket up to his face while the amused clerk looks on. She gives him a look that is amazingly nuanced for a duck, and he sighs before coughing up the coins to pay for milk as well. Fine. If she wants him to drink milk, he can drink milk. After a few weeks, some of the shops begin offering him bread for free. Apparently his devotion to his pet is ‘charming’. That’s embarrassing, but alright in the end.

What’s not alright in the end is when he runs into Ahiru’s old friends from school. He doesn’t have a clue what their names are and they’re so friendly with him he’s rather scared to ask. One of them seems to be trying to have a normal conversation, but the blonde one won’t stop crying about his ‘bad boy charm’ or whatever that’s supposed to be, and then the semi-sane one is staring at Ahiru and asking way too many questions and it’s all Fakir can do to get them both out of there without the blonde one clinging to his leg.

Ahiru barely moves the whole way home. Fakir gets out a quill and paper, but even then, she doesn’t want to talk. He understands. Her two best friends, and neither recognized her.

She saved the whole town, and he’s the only one who remembers.

Autumn chill comes tumbling in, and Fakir can spend less and less time down by the lake before his hand begins to ache. He keeps that from Ahiru. The self-inflicted stab wound that he’d never really properly taken care of might not have healed itself as well as he wanted. There are ways he can’t move his fingers without intense pain, and the hand itself has a tendency to hurt and go numb. He works on improving his coordination with his left hand, but between the strain he puts on his hand at work and the cold weather, he’s lucky to get a few hours a week in writing, and then most of that time has to be devoted to recording the town’s history, instead of talking with Ahiru. She might not understand all the reasons behind why he has less and less time for her, but she doesn’t confront him over it. She stays out of the lake by the fire and doesn’t move for hours on end. Entire days can pass where the most they exchange are glances.

She sleeps right next to him every night on her own little pillow, but he misses Ahiru. He misses her smile, and her freckles, and her bright eyes. He misses the stubborn pout of her lip and her clumsiness and the feel of her safe in his arms. He dreams of waking up to her turned human once more. One night he comes home to see her little duck form attempting to dance by the fire.

“Do you miss it?” he asks, hanging his coat behind the door. She stares into the fire for a moment and then nods, very slowly.

“Just dancing or being human?”

Again, a nod. Both, then.

Fakir lies awake that night, watching Ahiru breathe steadily while she sleeps. Why did she even stay? He knows Mytho would have taken her along as well, to his kingdom of written word where surely Ahiru could have been a girl once more. She could have been happy there, with Rue and Mytho, people who actually remember what she did for them. Ahiru could have danced ballet again, and never had to see those friends who forgot her so easily. She could have laughed and smiled and been able to talk with people other than a moody writer whose hand doesn’t even work right. How long does he have anyway? He knows he should see a doctor but the wound has healed and it seems it’s the tricky stuff on the inside that’s making his hand hurt so. There’s nothing to heal that with. He’ll just slowly lose the use of that hand. And what then? Does he still write the town’s story? Keep on with this task assigned to him through his ancestry? What would happen if he just stopped writing? Would the town survive, or is it still trapped, in this small way, by Drosselmeyer’s machinations? He doesn’t want to test it. In that case, there is the serious problem of lineage. If the town will need writing, then who after Fakir? He stares at Ahiru and tries to imagine inviting someone else into his life, even if just for purpose of an heir. No, no, no, no. He would never do that to her. And there’s no one in this town except Ahiru who he could even imagine being with. Obviously not in duck form, but still. So does he track down Autor and try to get him to remember? He’d only seen Autor once, when he was at the academy gathering his things to leave, and for a moment he’d attempted a smile for someone who did pretty much save his life, but Autor’s eyes had passed right over him. How would he react to Fakir arriving at his doorstep and insisting he needs to ‘write’ the town and have lots of little babies to continue on with it?

Is there any way out of this for him? Or is Fakir stuck in this town forever?

But, and this is a big but, because he hasn’t even dared to think about it yet, he doesn’t know how much longer Ahiru is going to be around. Fakir flips over onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. Yes, she’s a magic duck, but ducks only live so long, and Fakir knows that if Ahiru dies, there’s nothing that can keep him here, story or no story. Town be damned.

Why didn’t Ahiru leave with Mytho? She could have been happy and human and dancing, and lived a long, long human life. Mytho would have allowed it. She was Princess Tutu, after all. She belongs in the storybooks.

Why didn’t she leave?

Why didn’t she leave?

She’d felt so safe in his arms. He thought he could protect her. He should have been able to protect her.

Fakir sniffs and registers the slide of tears down his cheeks. Lucky he’s always been a silent type of crier. He’s also been a complete fool. Thinking that he could get some sort of fairytale ending as well, when it hasn’t even been six months since they defeated the Raven and already everything is falling apart. He’s falling apart. And how is he supposed to provide for Ahiru in this state?

He ends up sitting at the dining table, palms pressed against his eyes to try to stem the flow of tears. He bites down on his shirt to prevent any embarrassing noises from escaping. He can’t cry like this. He needs to be stronger.

The clunk of wood on wood has him halfway out of his seat, hand reaching for a sword at his hip that hasn’t been there for half a year. A quick succession of quacking makes him fumble for the windows and pull the curtains apart. The moonlight reveals Ahiru, standing by the fireplace with her foot on a log she just knocked out of the basket. She quacks again, a little impatiently.

Fakir wipes at his face with rough palms. “Bossy,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. Maybe she didn’t see him crying. Although Ahiru has the unfortunate habit of doing just that.

He makes the fire with practiced movements, and within a few minutes he leaves it to grow as he takes Ahiru with him back to the table. He offers her some corn kernels that are always left in a little bowl there, but she gives him another distinctive look that lets him know he hasn’t gotten away with anything. Fakir sighs and hides his face in his hands. He still has tears left in him, and that’s no good way to start a conversation. “It’s nothing.”

She nudges her head into his arm. Fakir gives Ahiru a pat, but she shakes her head vigorously and dislodges his hand.

“I said it was nothing!” Fakir snaps, and shoves his chair from the table. He goes to stand in front of the fireplace but he can feel her eyes on him. He casts his own eyes around the room, looking for something to distract himself with. The journals catch his eye, the completed ones stacked in the corner and stained with ink. He kneels beside the ever-growing pile and runs a finger down the spines. He’s doing the best he can, he really is, but…

“I should have been able to change it,” he whispers. “If I’m Drosselmeyer’s descendant, then I should have been able to change the end of the story to let you stay human. That way, you could have gone back to the school, and your friends, and ballet. Anything better than being stuck in this tiny hut with only a pond to entertain you, day after day because that’s…” He feels the tear slide hot down his cheek as his voice turns muddled. “Because that’s all I…all I can give you. I’m so sorry, Ahiru. I’m sorry.” He sniffs and turns away from the journals. Ahiru is still peering at him from the table. Fakir shrugs helplessly and swipes the tear from his chin. “You deserve much more than I can ever be.”

Since Ahiru can’t reply, all he gets are his words echoed back at him. Ahiru—sweet, clumsy, opinionated, compassionate Ahiru—is stuck with him for the rest of her short duck life. She wants to be a girl again. She wants to dance again. She wants to see her friends again. And she should be remembered by this town as a hero. And if that’s not possible in this world, then…

Fakir covers his eyes with one hand and sinks to the floor. There’s no hiding that he’s crying anymore, and now with no need to be silent, he loses all control. He stuffs both hands over his face to try to contain the tears, draws his knees to his chest, feels the ache in his throat and his lungs, tastes salt upon his lips.. “I don’t understand,” he manages to say between heaving breaths. “Mytho would have let you go with him. You are Princess Tutu. You should be living in his fairytale land, laughing and dancing instead of…instead of this.” He lowers one hand to gesture around the cottage. “I can’t give you the kind of life you deserve. Because you deserve so much more.” He dares peeking through his fingers at where Ahiru still regards him from the table. In the flickering light from the fireplace, it’s difficult to tell if she’s giving him one of her duck looks. “I didn’t need you to stay,” he rasps, slowly shaking his head. A lie, but she doesn’t call it on him. “We only needed me to keep writing the story. You don’t have to be here. So why…” He bites down hard on his lip, enough to taste blood, to keep his voice from wobbling. After a moment, he hides his face in his drawn-up legs. “Why did you stay?” he asks, shutting his eyes against an answer he doesn’t want to know. “W-why…?”

For a moment the only sound is the crackling of the fire, and then the distinctive whump of Ahiru half-falling, half-flying to the floor. She pecks at his bare foot.

“Ow!” Fakir complains, and lifts his head. “You don’t have to——” He stops talking. Actually, it’s more like everything about him stops. His brain, his lungs, his heart, his ability to do anything but stare. Ahiru must sense it, because she opens one eye to examine him as she stands there in position, wings curved gently upwards beneath her chest.

“You…you mean that?” She quacks a little frustratedly at him and improves her stance. It’s a little difficult for a duck, but Fakir knows the mime for love when he sees it.

“You’d stay here, in this world, where nobody remembers you and you’ll be a duck forever…” Well, he might as well remind her what she’s buying into. “Because you lo—because you—you love—because of me?”  

She lowers herself back down from the tips of her feet and nods.

Now, for him, it’s an obvious thing. He loves Ahiru. He loves her now and suspects he always will, no matter how long she is with him. Even if he never admits it in his life. Even if he could only try to express that love in a single dance at the bottom of a lake. It doesn’t matter. That love stays warm in his chest, protected by his ribcage and tucked beside his heart. So he knows he loves Ahiru, but with one thing and another and Mytho and Rue and the whole duck thing, he’d given in to never knowing if she felt the same, even if it was just an inkling of a feeling. Now he knows. But he never wanted to.

Not like this.

His hands drop to the floor and his feet slowly give out across the wooden planks, legs extending spread out so not to bother Ahiru. Fakir stares at the little duck lit up by the firelight. Shaking his head slightly, he manages to rasp, “So you’ll stay here, because of me. I…I…” He shuts his eyes tight and feels the tears really begin to flow. His nails scratch at the floors as he balls his hands to fists. “Why? Why would you…why would you do something…why would you love me? I’m just…” He clutches both hands right to his chest. “I’m just a hopeless, loner writer whose hand doesn’t even work right anymore! I can’t…” His hands fly back up to his eyes. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep writing. I don’t even know if I’m doing it right! You should have gone with Mytho and been happy with him. Found someone better to love.” His voice cracks along the words. “Not me. I can’t give you enough. I can’t give you anything! Just a tiny cottage and a slice of a pond. That’s all.”

Hands back down to floor, out of exhaustion more than anything, which means his eyes are free to see Ahiru consider the problem for a moment and then, slowly, gesture to him with her wing before gracefully transitioning into the mime for love once more. Fakir frowns and peers closer. “I…I lo-lo-love…” Ahiru settles back onto her feet and tilts her head to the side, waiting. “Do I love you? Is that it? Is that—?” She shakes her head and completely throws him off. “B-because I…do…what do you mean ‘no’?”

This wasn’t at all how he’d dreamed of these confessions.

She quacks and flaps her wings in annoyance, and then sets off waddling down the room to Fakir’s desk. She flies up onto his chair, and then scrambles up to where he’d last abandoned his journal and quill. Fakir uses his shirt to wipe his face clean and follows obediently, sitting down and reaching for the quill. Her wings snap out and stop him. She moves with more strength he knew she had, flipping his hand over and nosing over the scar there. She looks up at him, tilts her head, and makes a quiet peeping sound. Fakir breathes in deep and tries to prevent his voice from cracking. “It…it didn’t heal right. I can feel something wrong when I move my fingers…” He flexes them for example. “And it hurts to write for more than ten minutes at a time.” Ahiru just stares for a long moment, and then slowly butts her head into his palm, smoothing her feathers over the scar. Maybe, Fakir thinks, this could have been a kiss, if Ahiru had lips with which to do that. “I can write now, though,” he tells her softly, and takes his quill in hand. The ink blots on the first few words he writes, but he’s gotten used to how he needs to write the town, and how to write his and Ahiru’s story.

“Late at night, the writer lay awake…”

He’s still not used to how writing about himself and Ahiru gives him a strange omniscient feeling, like all her thoughts and feelings are flowing straight into him to be jotted out upon the paper. The moment the quill touches down, he can sense her emotions as if they were his own, almost overwhelming in their sincerity. Concern for his hand, a deep sadness for not being able to comfort him better when he cries, and…well, it’s not exactly anger, but frustration that Fakir doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. Resignation that there’s nothing they can do right now to change that situation, but frustration just the same.

Fakir rubs his free hand over his face again, trying to erase the tear tracks. She doesn’t need to be able to comfort him. He needs to be stable, to not break down like this in the middle of the night.

Wait, shit, he’d written those thoughts out. He can’t even rely on the privacy of his head when there seems to be no filter in between what happens and what he writes. Ahiru turns to read before he can scratch it out and quacks in quick protest.

“Well, I should be! Better!” Fakir protests. “And you! You should be a girl again and dancing with Mytho and Rue and their fairytale life!” He pushes his chair back. “You love me, and I love you back, but, b-but…” Damn it. Once he starts crying he’s never able to get it to stop. “But sometimes that isn’t enough, Ahiru! Sometimes life is just too complicated and not a fairytale, not in this world. Which is why you should have gone. I don’t know how long I’ll have to write the town’s story for, I don’t know what to do if I need to find someone else with Drosselmeyer’s bloodline to continue for me and I don’t know how I could force that sort of burden on anyone anyway. And everyone thinks you’re just a duck, and nobody remembers! They don’t remember…” He covers his eyes again, like that’s fooling anyone. “Charon, Autor, everyone at the school. They’ve all forgotten. You and Mytho and Rue and everything that happened. They see me, and I’m just the odd orphan kid who carries a duck around. Is that what you want for the rest of your life? To be stuck with me?”

There’s no response. After a minute, he lowers his hand.

She’s crying. Oh God, he made her cry too. Those big blue eyes that remind him the most of when she was a girl. All filled with tears.

“Ahiru…” He dives out of his seat and lands on his knees before the desk. She shakes her head and turns away. Fakir bites hard down on his lip, but then her foot sends the quill rolling down the desk right to the edge. She wants to talk.

Fakir wipes his face on his shirt again and raises himself so he can fill the quill with ink. He touches back down to the paper.

“The duck could only remember what the writer had told her, deep within the lake. That it didn’t matter to him if she was a bird or not, because that’s who she truly was.”

“I don’t care that you’re a duck!” Fakir yelps, wrenching his hand away before it can give anything away. “It’s just…you’ve told me you miss being human. So…do you care that you’re a duck?”

Ahiru turns back to him, not meeting his eyes as she taps her foot against the paper. Fakir sighs and puts the pen down once more, lets the words run free.

“Of course the duck had understood what staying with the writer meant. Leaving with the prince and princess would allow her to remain as Princess Tutu, and live happily within their realm of fantasy. But staying with the writer meant staying beside the boy she loved, and feeling his love in return, and that was worth everything.”

Fakir stops and his eyes flicker over to her. He can feel the sincerity of the words he’s scribbling, can feel the bravery she needed to summon them, the determination to make Fakir understand, because he’s such a stubborn dolt at times. That last part is definitely directed at him.

“A stubborn dolt? Thanks.”

She quacks loudly and taps her foot incessantly against the paper.

“The writer might lose use of his hand, the town might forget all about her existence, they might be known as the strange boy and his duck who live out on the lake, but that didn’t matter to the duck. She would not ever trade it for the fantasy world. Because she had promised…”

Ahiru watches him write out the final words and then waddles over to stand right in front of him. Like this, they are beak to nose.

“You mean that,” Fakir says. There’s no question. Not when he felt the words like that. She nods.

Fakir turns his face away and wipes his nose on his sleeve. He sighs and tries to steady his breath, and then pushes up off the floor. He holds his hands cupped near the desk. “May I?”

Ahiru quacks, content and soft, and steps into his hands. She doesn’t protest when he draws her to his breast, and instead he feels her wings embracing him in return. He can feel her cold little beak against his neck. Always so tiny, no matter what form.

Eventually it feels natural to begin to rock back and forth, slowly turning in a circle. It’s not ballet, and by no means a proper sort of dance, but for now, he can’t stand to let her go.

Nothing is fixed. Real life doesn’t work like that. The problems of tonight will still be here in the morning. But maybe they’ll look better in the dawn. For now, they keep dancing.

The final words on the paper trail off into a scribble, pen abandoned and leaking ink in a trail from the final period.

“I will stay by your side forever.”