@--->--------------
Uncertainty
Utena walked in the hospital tentatively, a bouquet of red roses held so tightly in her grasp that her knuckles turned white. She knew they would all be there. She knew that, like at that time he got injured by Sayonji, they would blame her for his wounds.
She had not bothered to call the hospital to know whether he was alive or dead. They had said that this night would be crucial. If he survived, he would live. But they were not sure he would make it through an hour, much less a full night. She did not dare call ahead because she wanted to pretend as long as she could that he was alive and waiting for her.
He would be sitting up in bed, the crisp white sheets pulled halkway up his torso, his long slender fingers entwined. His red hair would fan out on the pillow and he would smile at her. He would probably toss her an empty compliment, belittle the severity of his illness, and make her at peace with the world.
But what if he wasn't?
What if he really had died in surrendering his soul to her?
Could she carry the burden of having murdered her own Prince?
She remembered the story her mother had told her when she was little. How in a life, you have one Prince, one person who will complete you and protect you and love you. She might have lost him forever because she was blind. Because she thought that looking at the outside was enough, that the playboy was devoid of a soul, when he had the most beautiful, shining soul of all, a soul to rival Dios's in its clarity of purpose.
Utena walked in the elevator, and pushed the buttons for all the floors.
When it finally stopped at his floor, she faltered, then stepped into the hall.
Stark and white and empty, if it were not for a few ugly metal chairs pushed against the walls. Miki was sitting there, biting his fingernails. Juri's head was dropped in her hands, her golden curls hiding her face. Sayonji was pacing the hall, bouncing a boken in his palm. For an instant Utena wondered why he was allowed to bring it in at all. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at those people who were his friend before he even met her.
Juri looked up.
Utena's arm fell to her side, the rose petals caressing the floor.
The words stuck in her throat, the words of comfort she had planned so carefully.
Instead, she kneeled down and laid the flowers in the middle of the corridor, on the cold white tiles of the floor.
Please understand...
Juri looked at her.
I grieve with you...
Juri slowly got up.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffed up, they spoke of a night spent in vigil.
She knelt and took the roses, then turned and walked back to her chair, sitting down.
Utena stared at the empty floor for a few minutes. She had finally dragged herself to her feet and pushed the button on the elevator when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Miki's kind blue eyes seemed to smile at her.
_ "He knew, Utena, and we also knew. I am thankful, Sayonji and Juri too. You gave him a beautiful gift. You gave him his revolution. A revolution of feelings. There is nothing more pure, more beautiful, than feelings."
The last thing Utena saw were Miki's blue eyes as she pushed the button marked 'lobby' and the elevator door closed.