Utena’s new roommate stirs far too much sugar into her tea. Spin, spin, spin, goes the spoon: not fast, but steady and gaining speed while never lacking the control to keep from hitting the edges of the cup.

“Something true?” she says sharply, and lets go of the handle, which, caught up in its own whirlpool, keeps moving while threatening to escape its set boundaries: violent, chaotic, noisy, “True like that, Utena-sama?”