In the Mirror of Time

In a field of roses that extended as far as the eye could see they crossed swords. 

Two figures who clothed their female bodies in the uniforms of men.  One had hair of gold; the other’s was the vivid pink of the flowers around them.

Their swordplay was fierce, but without grimness or competition.  Laughing and smiling they sparred with delight, both of them pleased to have an opponent equal in skill.  Their duel was a dance of joy.  This was who they were, the uniforms they wore were not costumes meant to titillate or baffle but expressions of their spirit. 

They were so alike, mirror images distorted only by time and place and destiny. 

So they danced and the clanging of their swords and their laugher filled the air.  When they were spent they lay among the roses.  There, they laid bare the curving bodies beneath the uniforms.  This too was not to titillate or baffle, but who they were.  Neither the womanliness nor the soldier’s garb was masquerade to them (and yet both were).  Among the roses they embraced and kissed with a fierce joy that matched what they had shown in battle.  Hands, legs, pink and golden hair entwined, laughing they rolled among the flowers and petals rained down on them…

“Miss Tenjou, Miss Tenjou,” the teachers sneering voice cut through her lush, rose-scented dreams.  “You seem unusually engrossed in your history book.  Don’t tell me you’ve actually found something to interest you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Utena replied.   “I think I have.”

She ran her fingers over the picture of Oscar Francois de Jarjayes and as she did felt a prick like the thorn of a rose.