Categories > Anime/Manga > Princess Tutu > Fakir and Duck Afterstory
Once upon a time there was a couple who longed to have a child of their own.
But the couple's time together was always consumed with gathering enough food for survival.
Time passed them by and their faces creased with old age; their hair grayed and whitened...
One day when picking mushrooms in the forest, they found a little duck with a broken wing... and so they took it home to substitute it as their child.
But whenever they left to go gather, they'd come back to find the mysterious markings of a stranger.
The house was cleaner. There was always bread on the table.
Sooner or later, they heard town rumors of a mysterious girl in their house.
And they began to suspect that their lame little duck was anything–
but a mere fledgling.
--------------------------------------
"Quaquaqua qua... quaaaaack!"
"Qua... QUAACK!"
"Hold still you moron." He grumbled as he slid the gauze wrap off her wing. The duck just wouldn't stop squirming around.
"Quack..." She obeyed, albeit despondently.
"You listen to me. You stay in your nest until I get back tonight. Don't you dare be making any more noise. And stop jumping around! My room's a complete mess thanks to you." Fakir ranted, slamming the door behind the little yellow duck.
"Quaaaack..." Duck cried. Locked in his room again.
He never listens to what I have to say.
Silently, she shuffled her webbed feet across the floor and scampered up from his chair to his desk. By the time she lifted up his dark blue curtains with her bill, she saw him already stubbornly stalking off down the street. He was heading towards the academy.
He promised to be with me forever.
But he always leaves me here with nothing to do. And when he does return, it's always just for a few hours. It's so boring. Duck puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.
He always spends his time at the academy instead. He must still live there most of the time, probably.
The duck sighed and sat her fluffy yellow duck butt on a cushy leather-bound book.
But I guess it can't be helped. He graduates this year, after all. All that writing and testing must be tough. And animals aren't allowed at the academy anymore.
It must be hard for him.
And I can't really talk anyways.
...
I'm just a boring duck.
"Quaaaaack..." She sighed again, leaning back against a stack of books. Without much resistance, the books slid and went flying– sending her toppling onto the ground...
–Where she knocked over more stacks of books and such.
"QUAAAACK!" She trumpeted, rolling onto a pile of scattered papers.
Oh... He's going to be so mad at me again.
She cried tears from her enormous blue duck eyes.
"Quaaaaa..."
...Well...
I guess I should clean this up. She decided, looking down at the papers. These must be his essays. He's had to write a lot of them lately.
...
He's so smart, there's hardly any red marks on these pages.
Of course he'd get fed up with a clumsy duck like me.
She gathered each page between her feathers- like with the fingers she once had when she was a real girl.
Hmm? What's this? It doesn't seem to be a school paper. Duck observed. She winced her eyes. Though she could speak the human language well enough and she learned a lot in mandatory afterschool lessons– she still hadn't completely mastered reading and writing.
Duck read the title, though:
The Lame Duck Girl.
...Lame Duck Girl?...!
Wha... what is this?! Why is this just lying around- is he trying to make fun of me? Duck fumed, slapping the paper down on the ground.
But that's odd. He always takes his stories back with him. I saw him stuff them into his bag before he left–
But Duck suddenly remembered.
He was hastily stuffing papers into his bag this morning indeed, but out of the corner of her eye, little Duck could've sworn that she saw something fall out and slide across the floor.
Curious, Duck edged towards the paper and hung over it in an attempt to read the rest:
Once upon a time, there was a lame little duck. She was very moronic.
Everywhere she went, she brought lots of trouble and always made her knight very upset.
Duck stopped reading, fuming in humiliation. Moronic?...!
This was definitely about her.
"Quack quack– QUACK QUACK QUACK!" She ran around in rage. That's it, I'm not reading anymore. Duck cleared her throat and sat down stubbornly.
But time passed all too slowly in the dark little room. So boring... Duck thought.
And before Duck knew it, she was back, peering over the paper.
If this story is about me... Shouldn't I read it?
Since it's written by Fakir, the chances of it becoming true, if not already, are....
She read on:
Though this little duck was rash, impertinent, and way too perky– for some reason she made up for it with her enormous heart, willpower, and kind of cute voice. And sometimes the way she walked, maybe.
Duck glowered in annoyance. I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted.
But Duck read on. If they were Fakir's words, they were written truthfully...
as painful as that was.
The rest read:
Anyways. She was once a girl. Nothing bad happens at all, and the duck turns into a girl for real as soon as possible. Then she stops giving the knight so much trouble and finally listens to whatever he tells her to do. The End.
"QUACKQUAQUACKQUACK!" Duck screeched, flapping her wings in frustration. Oh Fakir, that's not how you write a story at all!
You may write good essays, but your stories stink. Duck sulked.
And why did you give it such a random title? It had absolutely nothing to do with the story!
And what do you mean, 'I start listening to what you tell me to do?...!'
In frustration, the little duck plucked a feather from her rear. "QUACK!" Ouch! She honked. Rushing up to the desk, she dipped it in an ink well and ran back to the paper.
Quickly, she set herself into action, sketching and scribbling everything she had to say.
"Quack!" She proclaimed, stepping back to look at her work proudly. There was no way Fakir could ignore the little duck's requests now.
With not much else to do, Duck set back to work, tidying up the room.
Unbeknownst to her, however, the wet ink on the paper was eerily glimmering with the words she wrote:
But before all that, the dumb knight stops treating her like an animal and sees her as a real girl!
"Quaaaack..." Duck quivered. The door had opened. Was it night already? She wondered.
Footsteps came near her. She was far too relaxed to do anything, that lazy little duck; for the nest Fakir had given her was made from the softest down and reeds that she had ever nestled upon.
...
Though the room was void of all noise, this was soon disrupted by the sound of a paper shuffling.
Duck froze, terror rousing her from her relaxation. Was he actually reading what she wrote?
And she had forgotten to clean up all of the recent mess she had made! I fell asleep! Duck panicked.
His footsteps paced closer, and she felt a hand reach and snatch her up. "Qua- QUAAAACK!" Duck struggled. He was mad! He stared at her intensely.
Then he held her firm like a teacup and pecked her on the bill with his mouth. Once.
Duck froze in complete and utter bewilderment.
"...W-what.... Do you have any complaints with that?..." He threatened, setting her back down in the nest to recover. Duck had already gone stiff from the shock.
He sat down on the floor, his back turned to her–leaning against his bed.
"That's how it would be... If you were a real girl..." Fakir hushed.
She couldn't see his face, so she couldn't tell from his expression.
But his voice sounded so sad.
But if I was a real girl, he wouldn't be able to hold me like a teacup and...
Duck suddenly blushed in realization.
"Do you even understand what I meant that day? You're not a girl. You're a duck. It doesn't matter what kind of story I write about you, you're still a duck after it's finished... But that's fine. Just... forget about this notion of you ever being a girl. It doesn't suit you." He finished.
His words shot through the little duck's heart like shards of ice.
Fakir... You're so...
Tears poured from her eyes.
Her beak quivered.
"QUAAAAAACK!" Duck screeched in outrage, flying off across the room and flapping against the window.
Fakir turned his head around in alert, "Duck! ...Were you–"
So mean! So mean! Such a hurtful thing to say! Now that I've–
Her bill smacked into the latch and sent the window swinging open– and her tumbling outside.
The cool fresh night sky invited her, in Princess Tutu's words, to come dance with her.
Her animal instincts took over, and she was soon soaring far away from the dark and boring room... where her hopes and dreams had been held captive...
until now.
~The words on the paper have been set in motion. A plain kiss still holds its power if it's done with true love?~
But the couple's time together was always consumed with gathering enough food for survival.
Time passed them by and their faces creased with old age; their hair grayed and whitened...
One day when picking mushrooms in the forest, they found a little duck with a broken wing... and so they took it home to substitute it as their child.
But whenever they left to go gather, they'd come back to find the mysterious markings of a stranger.
The house was cleaner. There was always bread on the table.
Sooner or later, they heard town rumors of a mysterious girl in their house.
And they began to suspect that their lame little duck was anything–
but a mere fledgling.
--------------------------------------
"Quaquaqua qua... quaaaaack!"
"Qua... QUAACK!"
"Hold still you moron." He grumbled as he slid the gauze wrap off her wing. The duck just wouldn't stop squirming around.
"Quack..." She obeyed, albeit despondently.
"You listen to me. You stay in your nest until I get back tonight. Don't you dare be making any more noise. And stop jumping around! My room's a complete mess thanks to you." Fakir ranted, slamming the door behind the little yellow duck.
"Quaaaack..." Duck cried. Locked in his room again.
He never listens to what I have to say.
Silently, she shuffled her webbed feet across the floor and scampered up from his chair to his desk. By the time she lifted up his dark blue curtains with her bill, she saw him already stubbornly stalking off down the street. He was heading towards the academy.
He promised to be with me forever.
But he always leaves me here with nothing to do. And when he does return, it's always just for a few hours. It's so boring. Duck puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.
He always spends his time at the academy instead. He must still live there most of the time, probably.
The duck sighed and sat her fluffy yellow duck butt on a cushy leather-bound book.
But I guess it can't be helped. He graduates this year, after all. All that writing and testing must be tough. And animals aren't allowed at the academy anymore.
It must be hard for him.
And I can't really talk anyways.
...
I'm just a boring duck.
"Quaaaaack..." She sighed again, leaning back against a stack of books. Without much resistance, the books slid and went flying– sending her toppling onto the ground...
–Where she knocked over more stacks of books and such.
"QUAAAACK!" She trumpeted, rolling onto a pile of scattered papers.
Oh... He's going to be so mad at me again.
She cried tears from her enormous blue duck eyes.
"Quaaaaa..."
...Well...
I guess I should clean this up. She decided, looking down at the papers. These must be his essays. He's had to write a lot of them lately.
...
He's so smart, there's hardly any red marks on these pages.
Of course he'd get fed up with a clumsy duck like me.
She gathered each page between her feathers- like with the fingers she once had when she was a real girl.
Hmm? What's this? It doesn't seem to be a school paper. Duck observed. She winced her eyes. Though she could speak the human language well enough and she learned a lot in mandatory afterschool lessons– she still hadn't completely mastered reading and writing.
Duck read the title, though:
The Lame Duck Girl.
...Lame Duck Girl?...!
Wha... what is this?! Why is this just lying around- is he trying to make fun of me? Duck fumed, slapping the paper down on the ground.
But that's odd. He always takes his stories back with him. I saw him stuff them into his bag before he left–
But Duck suddenly remembered.
He was hastily stuffing papers into his bag this morning indeed, but out of the corner of her eye, little Duck could've sworn that she saw something fall out and slide across the floor.
Curious, Duck edged towards the paper and hung over it in an attempt to read the rest:
Once upon a time, there was a lame little duck. She was very moronic.
Everywhere she went, she brought lots of trouble and always made her knight very upset.
Duck stopped reading, fuming in humiliation. Moronic?...!
This was definitely about her.
"Quack quack– QUACK QUACK QUACK!" She ran around in rage. That's it, I'm not reading anymore. Duck cleared her throat and sat down stubbornly.
But time passed all too slowly in the dark little room. So boring... Duck thought.
And before Duck knew it, she was back, peering over the paper.
If this story is about me... Shouldn't I read it?
Since it's written by Fakir, the chances of it becoming true, if not already, are....
She read on:
Though this little duck was rash, impertinent, and way too perky– for some reason she made up for it with her enormous heart, willpower, and kind of cute voice. And sometimes the way she walked, maybe.
Duck glowered in annoyance. I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted.
But Duck read on. If they were Fakir's words, they were written truthfully...
as painful as that was.
The rest read:
Anyways. She was once a girl. Nothing bad happens at all, and the duck turns into a girl for real as soon as possible. Then she stops giving the knight so much trouble and finally listens to whatever he tells her to do. The End.
"QUACKQUAQUACKQUACK!" Duck screeched, flapping her wings in frustration. Oh Fakir, that's not how you write a story at all!
You may write good essays, but your stories stink. Duck sulked.
And why did you give it such a random title? It had absolutely nothing to do with the story!
And what do you mean, 'I start listening to what you tell me to do?...!'
In frustration, the little duck plucked a feather from her rear. "QUACK!" Ouch! She honked. Rushing up to the desk, she dipped it in an ink well and ran back to the paper.
Quickly, she set herself into action, sketching and scribbling everything she had to say.
"Quack!" She proclaimed, stepping back to look at her work proudly. There was no way Fakir could ignore the little duck's requests now.
With not much else to do, Duck set back to work, tidying up the room.
Unbeknownst to her, however, the wet ink on the paper was eerily glimmering with the words she wrote:
But before all that, the dumb knight stops treating her like an animal and sees her as a real girl!
"Quaaaack..." Duck quivered. The door had opened. Was it night already? She wondered.
Footsteps came near her. She was far too relaxed to do anything, that lazy little duck; for the nest Fakir had given her was made from the softest down and reeds that she had ever nestled upon.
...
Though the room was void of all noise, this was soon disrupted by the sound of a paper shuffling.
Duck froze, terror rousing her from her relaxation. Was he actually reading what she wrote?
And she had forgotten to clean up all of the recent mess she had made! I fell asleep! Duck panicked.
His footsteps paced closer, and she felt a hand reach and snatch her up. "Qua- QUAAAACK!" Duck struggled. He was mad! He stared at her intensely.
Then he held her firm like a teacup and pecked her on the bill with his mouth. Once.
Duck froze in complete and utter bewilderment.
"...W-what.... Do you have any complaints with that?..." He threatened, setting her back down in the nest to recover. Duck had already gone stiff from the shock.
He sat down on the floor, his back turned to her–leaning against his bed.
"That's how it would be... If you were a real girl..." Fakir hushed.
She couldn't see his face, so she couldn't tell from his expression.
But his voice sounded so sad.
But if I was a real girl, he wouldn't be able to hold me like a teacup and...
Duck suddenly blushed in realization.
"Do you even understand what I meant that day? You're not a girl. You're a duck. It doesn't matter what kind of story I write about you, you're still a duck after it's finished... But that's fine. Just... forget about this notion of you ever being a girl. It doesn't suit you." He finished.
His words shot through the little duck's heart like shards of ice.
Fakir... You're so...
Tears poured from her eyes.
Her beak quivered.
"QUAAAAAACK!" Duck screeched in outrage, flying off across the room and flapping against the window.
Fakir turned his head around in alert, "Duck! ...Were you–"
So mean! So mean! Such a hurtful thing to say! Now that I've–
Her bill smacked into the latch and sent the window swinging open– and her tumbling outside.
The cool fresh night sky invited her, in Princess Tutu's words, to come dance with her.
Her animal instincts took over, and she was soon soaring far away from the dark and boring room... where her hopes and dreams had been held captive...
until now.
~The words on the paper have been set in motion. A plain kiss still holds its power if it's done with true love?~
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