At the Nakajima residence, it was a dark and stormy night. Well, alright, everywhere in Tokyo it was a dark and stormy night. But at the Nakajima residence, it was even more of a dark and stormy night, and the mansion was being particularly imposing and spooky tonight. Sounds of extreme violence and shouts rang out on those parts of the dark and stormy night which were not too stormy. It was all particularly portentous, but then Kouto *was* being retrained in the Way by his father. And outside, three shadowy female figures could be seen. o/~ What shall happen? What shall happen? o/~ sang one. o/~ The world shall shake and the night shall break! o/~ sang another. The third held up two featureless puppets, but considering that the night was particularly dark and stormy, all that could be seen of the puppets were two more shadowy forms. They pantomimed fighting each other, in time with the shouts and violence that rang out from the upstairs window. o/~ Though the night always breaks at dawn, o/~ sang the first. o/~ But this time with greater violence, o/~ the second immediately countered, in perfect counterpoint. The puppets were really going at it now. A punch was met by a block and followed by a table which rang off a coatrack. Then one of the puppets, not being all that sturdily built, had its head fall off. o/~ Oops! o/~ sang all three, perfectly in key. There was a lengthy pause, during which the night, Kouto residence, and sounds of violence were suitably dramatic. Eventually the first figure spoke again. o/~ I hope Master Kouto remembers to let us in, o/~ she sang. o/~ It's cold out here. o/~ *** **** *** FURNITURE WARRIORS X PLUS SIGMA TURBO THALLIUM BATTLE 2002 or, as it is better known, FURNITURE WARRIORS X First transcribed by Brian Stricklin, and herein continued by Steven Scougall, a man of vague Utena fandom and who can be dangerously close to twisted at times. (The Furniture Warriors concept is the copyright of Nihana-san, obviously. If I even thought about claiming it was mine, I'd be chained up in a cell and forced to eat 'cease and desist' orders to live while listening to disturbed pigeons cooing disturbed things.) (I am sorry, everyone, but the previous two chapters have left me no recourse. I am reaching into the darker recesses of my mind and pulling out whatever I can find. I'll try to put them back when I'm done.) CHAPTER VIII Divan Intervention! -OR- The blackest depths of the soul! -OR- Let's all do the twistiest Twist! *** **** *** Inside the Kouto residence, things were somewhat less dark and stormy. But not by much. Storm clouds generally don't form inside houses, not even the most expansive ones. But there was certainly a metaphorical storm, of emotions, so in a way the interior was just as dark and stormy as the exterior. The training hall certainly seemed almost large enough to develop its own weather patterns. It was quite dark, too, for several thrown couches had broken all the light fixtures. It made details, such as faces, clothes, and even colours difficult to make out. There was a car in one corner, for some mysterious reason. Oh, all right, there was a car there because the room was really the garage. It was a very *nice* garage, though. It was certainly immense enough to accomodate the car, several tons of practice equipment, and two hundred square metres of practice space, and all the usual tools you might expect to find in a garage. It had windows, and doors to the indoor pool, courtyard, kitchen, and living room. Outside of the trainig area, it had storage space in spades. It even had a sink. A shadowed figure lounged on a divan. Seeing as father and son looked so alike, the figure's silhouette offered no clues as to his true identity. "You are getting weak," it said. The other rested, humbled, on his hands and knees. "And you more arrogant than ever." "Ah, but *I* can afford to. You cannot." And things might have stayed there and been mysterious, except then there was an almighty flash of lightning. It was more than enough to illuminate the room, throwing all the objects and the people inside into stark relief. And the figure on the divan was revealed to be none other than a Nakajima. Oh, all right, it was Kouto's father. He sat up, and his hair flared with the sudden movement. His shirt was torn, revealing a trim upper body that was remarkably free from the advances of middle age. He smiled coolly. "You truly have grown weak, son. You must improve if you ever hope to defeat this Shizuhara Seki." "Damn you," Kouto grated. "Thankfully, you have *me* to teach you. Now... now the training shall truly begin. I shall teach you the true meaning of fear and loathing!" Then Nakajima Akai stood up and his hair billowed around him as his shirt rippled in the wind blasting in through the window and he started to laugh and laugh and laugh. And Kouto looked upon his father and was afraid. *** **** *** It had been a long and stressful week for Yashiko. Before that... that *slut* of a teacher, Kaede-sensei, had shown up, she had had Seki all to herself in the later parts of the day. She had been free to try and teach him how to play games, try to teach him about money, try to teach him about relationships... why, she'd been able to try and teach him about anything at all! Including, perhaps, fun of a more... primal kind. Well, alright, maybe not *that* far. Her big brother might have returned to Tokyo as an amazing *hunk* that made her weak-kneed in four seconds flat, but he was still her big brother. A very *sexy* big brother, with a well-but-not-grotesquely-muscled chest, and almost golden skin taut over his biceps, and... Sometimes it was very hard to remember it, though. But the pattern of their lives had changed. In the past week, Seki had been spending more and more time with Kaede-sensei. And the reports weren't promising. Why, just the first night back, Seki had said, "This afternoon I learnt the nine most effective ways of polishing wood." His face had been glowing with barely restrained joy. The next night Seki said, "Kaede-sensei is amazing! His mastery of the clamp is all but exquisite." Yashiko couldn't forget the look on Seki's face when he'd said that. In short, Yashiko was starting to feel a mite jealous. Of a *man*, for godsakes. The fact that Seki was the most effervescent and happy he'd been in recent weeks didn't get a look in. It should have been *her* that Seki was praising, and beaming and glowing about. So she sat in her room, nominally reading volume #28 (a limited edition with a rare four layer full colour cover of Shelly's arch-rival Pool- Cue), but actually sulking. The angst was heavy in the room, and the atmosphere, if it could talk, would be screaming in the utmost blackest pits of despair. "Anou... Mistress Yashiko, are you alright?" said the voice of her hated archrival. And Yashiko exploded. For the sixth time that week. "NO! I am not alright, Vanity! For the twenty-eighth time this week, I am NOT alright! Big brother Seki is, once again, with Kaede-sensei! He's going to be bursting with 'good news' when he gets back! Lumi-chan is out on ANOTHER date, apparently with a WOMAN, and she's wearing MY clothes while doing it!!" "If you would like me to ease your mind?" Yashiko thought back to the week before, where Vanity had nursed her back to health in what must have been a very erotic, almost lewd manner. She blushed in embarrassment. With no actual change in her facial colour, this turned very very rapidly into a red-hot flush of anger. "JUST GET OUT!" she yelled, and threw her pillow at the almond-skinned girl. Vanity gave a small eep of surprise and scuttled out of the room. Then, as she was wont to do, she fainted from the sudden exertion. While she most emphatically didn't like Vanity, Yashi wasn't *completely* heartless. She also didn't like the idea of Vanity lying on her floor for the next little while. So she helped Vanity out of the room and propped her against the wall. Then she stalked back into her room, slammed the door, and- Despite the best efforts of the 'must kill nice thoughts about Vanity' thoughts that patrolled her very being, she couldn't get the memory of the feel of the girl out of her mind. Or the memories of all the other times she had inadvertently touched Vanity. The very *nice* feeling Vanity, with such a smooth complexion, such an exotic face, such beautiful hair- Suddenly realising what she was thinking, she stopped thinking them very very quickly. "What kind of freak am I?" she sobbed. Her mobile phone rang. "Yes?" she snapped. "You are not a freak," said a strangely familiar voice. "Hey, who the hell are you?" Yashiko crossly demanded. "How do you even know who I am or what I'm thinking?" "I know your deepest desires, your blackest thoughts, and have seen your most embarassing photographs," the voice said, in a very oily snake-like manner. It had a very insidious feel to it that Yashiko didn't trust an inch. "Well I know the blot against your soul. If you truly wish for absolvement, come to room 1-A tomorrow at school after it has let out." "But that's when Seki has his fight! I can't not be there!" "Hey, girl," the voice said, sounding a lot less oily and very annoyed, "this is the only chance you get. You want absolvement or not?" Yashiko bit her lip. As dangerous as this voice sounded, it was somehow also very tempting. "In any case, you know where to come. I shall be waiting for you." The voice then started to laugh and laugh and laugh. The laughter continued for only a second until Yashiko got annoyed and switched the phone off. *** **** *** "WAAAAAAAAI! Ice kuriimu! Aaa-iii-su ku-riii-mu-uuu WAAAAAAAIII!" It was, of course, Lumi-chan. No other teenager could have quite sung that badly or energetically or as high pitched and still be so gosh- darned adorable. No other person could have moved around so much while just sitting still. No other person could put away one gallon of fine crushed lemon ice cream (with a hint of midori flavouring) in so short a time period. The End of the Rug, as ever, was oblivious to certain aspects of Lumi- chan's personality. He saw only what he wanted to see, and heard only what he wanted to hear. "Wai wai waiwaiwai, the pretty lady is so nice to me on our Roo-Maan- Tiic DEE-II-TO!" Lumi sang happily. The End of the Rug wasn't quite *that* oblivious, however. "Dear, sweet Lumi-chan, your words are like honey to my ears-" "WAAAAAAAAAAAI DEEEITO WAIWAIWAI!" "You're welcome. But I must ask why you are calling me a 'pretty lady'?" The impossible happened: Lumi-chan stopped inhaling ice cream. In fact, she flat out stopped *eating* it altogether. This was a moment worthy of note, so let us all look at the scene in detail. Lumi was sitting down in another set of clothes 'borrowed' from Yashiko. She was wearing a pretty light-blue blouse with slashed sleeves, not quite sheer but getting close, a cream skirt that reached halfway down the thigh, and she'd even had enough patience to try putting on some stockings. She wore a pair of sensible shoes, for as child-minded as she was, she was still a reasonably accomplished Furniture Warrior and couldn't see the point of high heels. And despite her crude eating habits, there was not a speck of ice cream anywhere on her clotihng. And her hair - oh, her hair! It was a gleaming firey orange-red done up in a complex double French twist, and the lightbulbs attached to her headband were at the same time both unobtrusive and shedding light on her hair in just the right way to make it shine all the more. Those who didn't know Luim all that well - like the End of the Rug, say - would have thought she had spent *hours* on getting it to such a state of perfection. But enough of Lumi. What about the other party of the date? The End of the Rug's almond-skin was gleaming a healthy bronze. It contrasted perfectly with his shining white hair, which was cascading down around his shoulders and his back, and was drifting slightly in a non-existent breeze for effect. The light gleamed off his smile, which he showed well and showed often. His clothes were just a simple dress shirt and dark slacks, which you can't really say a whole lot about. They were well pressed though, and black goes well with everything. The black was, like a lot of colours in this scene, shining, looking almost polished. Lumi's head was cocked slightly to the side, her mouth ever so slightly open as she rested her cheek on her single extended index finger and looked in confusion at the End of the Rug. It was a classic 'adorable' pose, and there almost seemed to be little sparkles of light radiating out from behind her head. Lumi was, while not completely conscious of it, looking hard at her date's face, and what she could see of his body behind the table. Her inner teenager was sizing him up, and after a few seconds she came up with a number she really *liked*. Unfortunately, Lumi's inner teenager had to express this thought through the outer Lumi-chan. "Anou, you don't think you are pretty? Lumi-chan thinks you look very nice!" The inner teenager cursed while the End of the Rug swooned, once again hearing only what he wanted to hear. Considering that Lumi-chan had actually just paid him a honest compliment, what he'd heard had been *really* amazing and ego-stroking. *** **** *** It was the next morning at Hiroto High, and an elevator rose from the ground floor to the Venerable Ancient Duelist's Arena and Squash Court. There were three shadowy figures in the elevator. Despite the absence of a certain large figure, the elevator rose as slowly as it ever did. "If the lights are not angled, the room is dim," intoned Kouto. "We are the lights, the room is the world," Kotaro said, mentally cursing the fact that he couldn't plug his headphones into the new version of the GameLackey. "Three lights have been turned away," responded Ijima. "Ohoho," she added as an afterthought, but there wasn't much feeling in it. Kotaro glanced at his watch and recorded that nine seconds had passed. "Mou, turn that infernal noise off, Kotaro," scolded Ijima. "Or use some headphones." Kotaro made a rude suggestion. "The noise is unimportant," said Kouto. "Seki has indeed shown himself to be a powerful force, powerful enough to humble Benma." "Ohohoho," laughed Ijima. "Powerful he may be, but I follow the Way. Denkijutsu shall meet isujutsu in a way he cannot predict." "Indeed," said Kouto. "But what *is* it *you* want the Rosewood Bride for?" asked Kotaro, turning the volume down. "Could it be that you-" "Ohohoho. Let a girl have a few secrets," said Ijima. "Regardless, I, Ijima Kobayashi, reigning Queen of the Drama Club, will meet this Seki in the arena. I shall regain the Rosewood Bride for the Council, and Seki shall have to leave this school." She tossed her head, her blue hair fluttering around her head, and completed her a dramatic flourish by drawing forth her favoured furniture in a wide sweep of the arm. However, it *was* a confined space, and confined spaces are not good places for dramatic flourishes with certain props. The elevator, now with a great rent in one wall, yawed violently to the side. "Ohohoho... er, oops?" Ijima offered. The elevator gave up and fell. Because it was such a slow elevator, it fell only five feet. "One of these days, I would like to *get* to the roof," grumbled Kouto. Kotaro recorded that four minutes and two seconds had passed. *** **** *** "Did you hear that?" asked Seki. "Hear what?" asked Vanity. "That loud screaming and crash that resonated throughout the entire school, perhaps?" Yashiko snapped. "How could you possibly *miss* it?" Lumi-chan kept on humming tunelessly to herself, occasionally breaking out into song. Well, something that almost passed as song, anyway. Seki was starting to notice a worrying trend to Lumi's singing. Whereas once it could be summed up as variations on 'wai' and 'ice cream', variations of 'ro-man-tic date' were creeping in, too. Seki was starting to realise that Lumi was, in some utterly *bizarre* way, growing up. Well, sort of 'grow up'. A bit, anyway. Well, to be honest, he didn't know *what* she was doing or where she was going, but the Lumi-chan he'd known at the Big Tibetan Furniture Dojo would certainly never have *dreamed* of romantic dates or even dates in general. The prospect scared him. Perhaps... perhaps it was time to write to Lumi's brother. Perhaps he should write to Master Ikea. He thought for a moment, and shook his head. No, it was not a Furniture Warrior of the Big Tibetan Furniture Dojo to burden another with one's burdens. This burden was his alone to bear. Then he recognised his mentor's voice. "Hey, Shizuhara-kun! Stop spacing out!" Seki sprang to seated attention. "Hai, sensei! What is it?" "Seeing as you've passed all of Kumayama's tests, I thought we could spend the rest of the hour on matters of woodcraft." "Hai, sensei!" Beside him, taking a test that, while hard, was at least nowhere near as fiendish as one of the Kumayama-sensei's tests, Yashiko slowly ground her teeth. *** **** *** Once the nurse had patched her up, Ijima left the nurse's office and drifted through the hallways. As a Student Council member, none dared challenge her, and anyway there was that very useful rule saying that Student Council members didn't have to attend classes. So she was left in peace as she drifted through the hallways and her thoughts... And once again Ijima Kobayashi had to wonder exactly *why* she fought for possession of the Rosewood Bride. She was no slouch in the Way, and there had been more than a few times when she had won possession of the Rosewood Bride. The first time it had happened, she had wondered what on earth to do with the girl. The boys of the Student Council were obviously enamoured of the Bride, but Ijima wasn't like that. Well, not much, anyway. It turned out that Vanity could bake very nice muffins... so soft... and light... sized so they weren't too much of a mouthful... and such a delightful texture... Ijima wrenched her memories away. This was no time to be remembering that- And there was a figure standing before her, looking very much like like someone she knew, only not. "You... it's you!" she gasped. Then she composed herself and added "ohohoho", for some habits die extremely hard, if at all. "Yes, it is me," said the figure. "Why are you here? Here, of all places?" "What is it you want?" asked the figure. "Oho-oh?" "I know your deepest desires," the figure said silkily. "I know your blackest thoughts. I have seen your most embarassing photographs." The voice became sly. "I know the deep black spot against your soul, that will not release you from its grasp." "Ohohoho. You think you can hold that against me?" "Oh, I certainly can... Iji-chan." Ijima gasped. How did he- "Is that not what he called you? What *she* then called you? Is it not what you wish for them to call you again? For of course I know." "Ohohoho," Ijima managed. "It is ancient history, unimportant!" "Then whose pictures do you carry in your wallet, *Iji-chan*? Who was it that, in a time when you competed almost daily against your peers, called you friend? Who was it that, after *she* was lost to you, you drove away in your anger and never saw again?" Ijima had opened her purse and was staring at pictures of two people lost to her long ago. "Ohohoho. That boy was a fool. He could never replace *her*. When he realised he left." "Do you not wish him back? Do you not wish her back?" Ijima looked down at the pictures again. One of a boy she hadn't seen in years, who had been vice-president of the drama club to her president; and the other of a certain almond-skinned girl she saw every day, yet hadn't seen the true smile of in many months- Oh, all right, that's enough of being mysterious. It was, of course, Vanity. The boy was unimportant, unless a future author wants to bring in a new character. "Look up, and see what you want... see the true face of yourself!" Ijima looked up and saw the figure was now holding up a black-tinted mirror, and in its deep dark reflection she saw herself. The figure, seeing her go all glassy-eyed, laughed and laughed and laughed. *** **** *** School had let out. The students were all abuzz as they left for the Venerable Ancient Duelist's Arena and Squash Court to see who Seki would beat the snot out of today. Seki, for his part, was starting to really wonder about the new age singing the Vocalist Club was practicing next door. He wondered if they would ever practice something else. There was only so much you could sing about deserts and camels and apocalyptic rains of fish, after all. Well, almost all the students were abuzz as they left for the arena. There were after all the new age singers, who couldn't care less about the latest events just as long as they got their chanting just right, no matter how weird the rest of the students thought they were. There were also the Student Council members, who had exercised their special privileges and left well in advance in order to protect their seats from over-eager students. There was also Yashiko. "Are you not coming, Mistress Yashiko?" Vanity asked. "I have some urgent business," Yashiko hastily improvised. "I will try and be at the arena as soon as possible." "Oh. I'll see you there then," Vanity said brightly. (She actually made it to the arena without falling over, but that mainly due to the density of the crowds being so high she couldn't fall over if she wanted to.) All the way to Room 1-A, Yashiko wondered if she was doing the right thing or not. It had been a very suspicious voice after all. This could even be some crazy scheme to brainwash her into fighting against Seki! Nah. That could never be right. She didn't have long to wonder, as room 1-A was only just down the hall. Students were still filing out to the arena as she entered the room. Room 1-A was dark. All the desks were stacked up against the far wall. The only place there was to sit down was the chair behind the teacher's desk. Yashiko stood there, uncertainly. This couldn't be right. For as possessive as she was, she was still Japanese, and bucking authority didn't come easily to her. And sitting at the teacher's desk was, if not bucking authority, at least making funny faces at it. "Just sit down already," said the voice, being as silky and as suspicious as ever. Yashiko looked around, but couldn't see anyone standing there. "I am very close by," said the voice. This time, Yashiko noticed it was coming from the PA system. "Just sit down, and all shall be set right." "All right," said Yashiko, and did. She made a mental note to bolt for the door if things got too weird. She started to seriously wonder if this was the right thing. "Tell me about Seki." "Oh, Seki is just such the most amazing brother a girl could wish for!" she said. "Tell me more," the voice insisted. "Do you like him?" "Of course I do. Who wouldn't? He's so kind, and gentle, and cool, and he looks so hot with that chest and those muscles, and-" Yashiko realised she was babbling and abruptly changed gear. "Why on earth are you asking me all this anyway?" "Do you love him?" "Of course I do! As a sister," Yashiko hastily amended, but not quite as hastily as she could have. She was still a little unsure about that whole part of it. "As a sister?" The voice turned sly. "Or as a lover?" "That's *sick*, you sicko! He's my brother! I couldn't-" "Dig deeper into your innermost feelings and ask yourself if you are true." "Huh?" "You want to," the voice whispered. "Don't you? It is so unfair that he's available to all those *other* girls that way, including Vanity, and Lumi-chan, but not to you. You have a shrine to him, you worship the ground he treads on, those other girls are nowhere near good enough for him, and yet, in that one way, he isn't available for you. Even other men are starting to steal him away from you. Where will it end? In fire, shame, and sorrow?" Yashiko couldn't think of much to say to that. Dimly, she realised that the chair and the desk had been descending very slowly down a long granite shaft, but that wasn't important. What was important was the voice. "How... how do you know all this?" she shakily asked. "As I said last night, I know your deepest desires. I know your blackest thoughts. I have seen your most embarassing photographs." The voice became sly. "I know the deep black spot against your soul. For I am of the Black Daffodil, and I shall show you who you are." "Who? Who!?" There was a pause, and some muffled cursing along the lines of "The blasted thing broke down *again*?" "What?" "It is unimportant! For I shall *still* show you the true side of yourself! Look to your right, please." Yashiko did, and reflected off a black-tinted mirror, she saw herself. And, as Shizuhara Yashiko, she knew no more. Which was quite a pity, for she missed seeing Nakajima Akai, dressed in a really *bizarre* black version of a student's uniform that looked vaguely like a daffodil. Nakajima Akai, lying back in his preferred divan, saw the blank look in Yashiko's eyes and laughed and laughed and laughed. "Will you *please* stop that laughing?" asked a certain white-haired almond-skinned figure. "It gets old very very fast." "Oh, but is not exquisite? Soon, very soon, this plan shall come together!" "And exactly *who* were planning to send up to Venerable Ancient Duelist's Arena and Squash Court, hmmm?" "Eh, I have no idea. I'll flip a coin. Or maybe I'll send both of them up to the Venerable Ancient Duelist's Arena and Squash Court at the same time." *** **** *** In the NEXT exciting chapter of FURNITURE WARRIORS X PLUS... TURBO... SOMETHING: WILL Seki finally get to fight against Ijima? WHAT is denkijutsu? WILL Nakajima Akai survive to see another chapter? WHAT really happened between Ijima and Vanity all that time ago? WILL there be more fanservice than what was in here? WILL there be less weirdness? Find out in Chapter Nine: Illuminating Dark Corners of the Attic Loft of the Mind! *** **** *** Author's Rambling Notes Whoo! I was actually able to use Mads' suggested title in a way that was actually *significant* to the story I was trying to tell! Bonus! As to what story I was trying to tell, I have *no* idea. All I know is is that a fight between Seki and Ijima was due, but then I vaguely remembered the Black Rose arc of Utena, what happened to Wakaba in that arc, and just how frustrating certain things could be to Yashiko. It all snowballed from there. Also! Despite the fact that Mads doesn't know a thing about Utena, the three girls at Kouto's house were, with some very slight adjusting, perfect for mimicking the shadow-play girls! As you can tell, I am ever so slightly hyped. This is also because at one point during the past few days I was feeling so uncreative that I thought I was going to have to skip. And then I managed this little piece. Objectively, I know it's not all *that* great (not to mention short) and not completely finished (I was wanting to have some *normal* scenes from throughout the school day), but there was no more time. Oh well. I also have this horrible fear that this chapter will simply not be all that funny for those who don't get all the Utena in-jokes. Er, sorry. I shall also answer one of those 'next time' questions right now. "Denkijutsu" is, *veeery* loosely, "Way of the Lights." Yes. What Lumi-chan obviously uses. I just remembered that there were the four main styles of Furniture, and Light Fixtures was one of them and hadn't yet been represented in the Student Council. And hey. Being able to do fancy things with lights and lighting would help in staging productions of the Drama Club. No prereading was done. But at least I got it done! I held true to my "I shall not skip!" promise! - Steven Scougall 26/3/2003