1A/N: Watch Princess Tutu, they all said. You'll love it, they said. You will cry and laugh and you are going to want everything in the world to make out with Fakir.

But it's called Princess Tutu, I always said, making a face.

I watched Princess Tutu. I cried. I laughed. Everything in the world should make out with Fakir, particularly a certain duck. So here's a little drabblish thing.

Disclaimer: Nope.

Redefinition

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Once upon a time, in my hometown before the war, there lived a young man who'd married a duck.

The townspeople called him a heathen, a madman, or just plain bizarre, and sometimes threw things at him when he came into town to buy ink or bread. (It was very big news, once, when the stablemaster's eldest son tried to sneak up on him and aim a kick at the duck in question. The young man apparently executed a beautiful arabesque and caught the stablemaster's son in the face with his heel. But this is only hearsay, you understand.)

But then the young man became a very famous author. He was written about in the paper, and received a commendation from the prince of some foreign country or other. Then all his 'heathen nonsense' finally stopped.

(He was still happily married to the duck, of course – but after he made my hometown famous, the people called him 'charmingly eccentric' instead.)

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Every time you review, a duck magically transforms into a girl!