http://clampfix.fanworks.net/guests/fushigi1.txt </head><body><pre>Fushigi Yuugi - The Fabulous Adventure Part 1 - The Legend Begins To Move... by: Jennifer L. Mondazzi July 11th, 1997 <Hokkan is _so_ cold!> Miaka Yuuki looked around at the snow-covered land, and sighed. She and the others had landed in this strange country days ago, and now the gray-brown landscape was familiar and boring to her. There were no trees filled with leaves and fruits, no birds dancing in the air, and no fragrant flowers lining the roadways - only slush and mud, and quiet people, clad from head to toe in thick furs to keep them warm. She huddled within her own parka, trying to keep her teeth from chattering out of her head, and leaned closer to the warm body sitting behind her. <At least the boat ride was fun>, she thought to herself, remembering the way that everyone had teased Tasuki about his fear of the water, and how Tamahome would constantly threaten to toss him overboard if he didn't stop complaining. <Tamahome...> Miaka turned her head slightly to the side, looking up into the handsome face of the man she loved. Tamahome seemed older, more serious since the death of his family. It had barely been a week, and still he did not talk about it. His silent suffering had deeply affected her, and the fact that he hadn't wanted her to be there for him during his time of need had hurt even more. She had not spoken to him of the tears she had cried upon Nuriko's shoulder, nor would she. He didn't need the guilt of distressing her upon his conscious as well. As she observed him silently, she noted the tired lines around his mouth, the slight crease to his brow, and the dark circles under his eyes. A sad fluttering arose within Miaka's heart. She wanted so badly to make him smile again. It had been many days since he had last done so. She reached up tentatively to touch his cheek, hoping to distract whatever thoughts were causing his beautiful golden-eyes to look so somber. Tamahome was shaken from his reverie, and glanced down at her. As if noting her anxiety, he smiled slightly to reassure her, and kissed the top of her head gently. Miaka felt the blush cover her cheeks, and she buried her face against his chest, hugging him tightly. She heard him chuckle, and smiled to herself. "Ahhh! I'm starved!" Tasuki complained, pushing his horse forward to match stride with theirs. "Can't we stop yet?" Miaka couldn't hold back the big smile that lit up her face. Trust Tasuki to bring up her favorite subject - food! Chichiri pulled up behind Tasuki on his own roan. "We just ate three hours ago, no da," he commented, his fox-face smiling in its usually strange fashion. "We have five more miles to go before we reach the next town," Tamahome commented, looking up at the sky, "and we have to get there before dark. There's no time to stop again." Tasuki moaned, covering his growling stomach. Everyone laughed, as the comedian of the group tried to perk them up with his odd humor. Miaka silently thanked him for what she knew was an intentional act to brighten them up. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly after that, as Tasuki traded barbs with Tamahome, and Nuriko and Chichiri played mediator. Mitsukake watched silently, and occasionally, Chiriko interjected a comment, but mostly, the play was between the two "antagonizers". Miaka's side hurt from laughing so much by the time they had reached the town of Han'ma. They stalled their horses for the night, paying a stable boy to rub them down and see to the animals' needs. Finding a small inn, called "The Barrel and the Barrow", they settled in for the evening. For security and comfort, they shared rooms; Tamahome and Chichiri took one, Tasuki and Nuriko another, Mitsukake and Chiriko a third, and Miaka got a room all to herself. She was just unpacking a few of her things when there was a soft rapping at her door. "Come in," she called over her shoulder. It opened wide, and a voice called out for her. "Hey, wanna go down to the bar with us?" Miaka looked up, recognizing the voice. Tamahome leaned just inside the doorway, one hand on the knob. She noted that he had changed out of his heavily-lined riding clothes, and wore his more-comfortable garb. Tasuki and Chichiri stood by his side, waiting for her. They, too, had changed into their usual attire. She absently wondered where the others were. Probably in their rooms. Poor Chiriko was exhausted, and she knew that Mitsukake would stay to watch over him until he fell asleep. She could not, however, pin down where Nuriko might be at any moment - he was _constantly_ a mystery to her. Miaka smiled at each of the young men, but resolutely shook her head, declining their invitation. Tamahome, she knew, needed to spend some time with the others and relax. With her around, he wouldn't be able to do that; he was a worrier. She hoped that a trip with `the boys' would brighten his mood a little more. "Thank you, but I'd like to go find the bathhouse and get cleaned up," she said, placing her hands behind her back and crossing her fingers. Tamahome seemed to hesitate. "I don't want to leave you alone," he said, his eyes starting to lose his enthusiasm. Miaka grew concerned, wanting to impress upon him the importance of going without her, but she was at a loss as to what to say to persuade him. Thankfully, someone came to her rescue. Nuriko entered from his own room and, having heard most of the conversation, cut him off. "I'll go with her," he offered, walking across the room to sit on her bed cross-legged. He leaned back against his hands, and smiled. "You go on ahead." Miaka silently praised Nuriko for his timing. Still Tamahome looked as though he was going to protest. Miaka decided to take some decisive action. "As my Seishi, I'm _ordering_ you to go with Tasuki and Chichiri," she said, hands on hips and puffing her chest out. She thought it gave her an air of authority, but Tamahome's look was clearly one of amusement. She stamped her foot, becoming slightly exasperated. "I'll be fine. Go on and have fun!" she urged him with a shooing motion. Tamahome nodded and grinned. "Yes, ma'am!" Without further ado, Tasuki started moving, latching onto Tamahome's sleeve as he passed, and dragged him down the stairs after him. Their arguing voices could be heard down the hallway. "What are you trying to do, kill me?!" "Would I do that?" "Yes, you would!" "Tama-chan, you're hurting my feelings!" "He's right though, no da." "You stay outta this monk-boy." Miaka sighed, and turned to Nuriko. "Those two will _never_ grow up," he predicted with a chuckle and a grin. Hopping up effortlessly to his feet, he started towards the door. "Well, let's get going, my Miko." He did not look back, leaving Miaka behind. She barely had time to grab a fresh change of clothes and her toiletries before she went out the door. The duo walked out of the inn and down the street, having gotten directions to the bathhouse from the innkeeper. They didn't say much along the way, but Miaka felt untroubled with that. Nuriko's presence was always comforting. That awkward need to fill the void with discussion wasn't always a necessity when they were together. Finally, they came to their destination, and entered. The bathhouse, the owner informed them, was placed over a naturally occurring hot spring, which ran under the nearby mountain. Miaka was thoroughly excited - she hadn't had a real hot bath since leaving the Imperial Palace in Konan. As she undressed, Nuriko properly turned his back, and sat on one of the two stools placed just inside the door. Miaka slipped under the warm water with a contented sigh. She crossed to the opposite side, and lay her head back against the carved stone wall, attempting to relax. It didn't take long to accomplish this. The temperature was perfect; not too hot, not too cold. Steam surrounded her, filled her, cleansed her. She felt her muscles ease, as the tension of riding on horseback for days started to slip away. Quickly, she became lethargic, delighting in the sounds of the soft bubbling spring, and letting go of her worries. "Hey, Miaka, can I talk to you?" She opened her eyes, her lids heavy. Something in Nuriko's tone caught her attention, and caused a little alarm to go off inside her head. Maybe it had been the strange catch in his voice, maybe it was the rigid set of his shoulders now as she looked at his back. Whatever it was, Miaka felt strangely disquieted. "What is it?" she asked, moving closer towards him. Leaning over the opposite side, her elbows rested on the wooden planks. She watched the steam evaporate off of her skin, swirling in the cooling air. For several moments, Nuriko remained still, as though gathering his thoughts, but she waited patiently and was, at last, rewarded. "I want to cut my hair." The sudden, unexpected statement brought a gasp of surprise to Miaka's lips. "But...why?" she heard herself ask on impulse. Inside, her mind was a whirl of questions. What would cause Nuriko to make such a drastic determination? His hair was his pride, the mark of his femininity. "Because I think it's time to end my old life and start a new one," he replied, turning his head slightly. He still had not looked at her, but Miaka caught his profile, saw the lines of sadness etched upon his features. "I don't understand," she admitted. Nuriko let out a deep sigh. "Now that Hotohori-sama knows that I'm not a woman, he will never look at me in that way. I've thought about this for a while now, and I've decided that it's best to give up on him." Miaka felt her jaw drop. Nuriko was getting over Hotohori?! How was that possible? She felt herself stammering, wild thoughts racing out of her mouth without thought. "But...oh, Nuriko....are you sure about this? I mean....you love Hotohori, don't you?" After several minutes of silence between them, Nuriko stood, crossing over to the doorway, and leaned against it. Miaka could sense the struggle going on inside of him, and felt powerless to do anything about it. Finally, he shook his head, as if coming to some sort of internal decision. "I'm not sure I can explain this well enough, Miaka, but I'll try. You see, I _admired_ Hotohori-sama; I wanted to _be_ like him. I knew that it was just a silly dream - he is the Emperor, after all. To him, we are only his loyal subjects, but I thought that if I could just be near him, that would be enough." Nuriko's confession was apparently agonizing for him. He leaned his head against the doorjamb and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. When he opened them again, Miaka knew that he was somewhere else. His gaze became far-away, as he traveled the length of his memories. "Hotohori-sama is a kind and generous ruler, and his beauty and talents are unparalleled in the entire Kingdom. He never falters in making a decision, and always does what is right. He is a _great_ man, Miaka. Hiding under his shadow as a Court Princess was the only way to feel even a bit of that greatness. Eventually, I wanted more. I think that a part of me still does..." Miaka felt her heart constrict in pain for her friend's torment; she could see it clearly defined in his stance, his gaze, his every movement. <What can I do?> Gradually, Nuriko's eyes returned to this time, this place. A sigh escaped him, and a bitter twist came to his mouth. "Somewhere along the way, my devotion turned into a sort of love, but it was never returned...and I know now that it never will be. It's time to accept that." Miaka didn't know what to say. Nuriko seemed genuinely defeated. She wanted to reach out to him and tell him everything was going to be alright. She opted, however, to remain quiet and wait, afraid to say anything more, unsure of whether it would be welcomed or not. His face gained back a bit of strength as he continued. "Actually, letting go hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be.=20 These past few weeks, I've noticed that my first and last thoughts every day haven't been of Hotohori." He turned his face slightly towards her, enough so that she could see his profile. "Interestingly enough, they've been of you, Miaka, and my duty to protect you as a Suzaku Warrior." Miaka's eyes widened, and she felt the deep blush rush up her neck to color her cheeks. Before she had a chance to respond, however, Nuriko cut her off. "Miaka, I realize now that I want to be the man I was born to be - not the woman I pretended to be. I have a duty to perform, and I can't do it if I'm too busy worrying about Hotohori's lack of feelings for me. It's time to put away my past, so that I can take care of the present." She heard herself stammer a reply hesitantly, trying to regain a semblance of self-control. "So...so, you're going to...to cut your hair off and start all over again?" Nuriko nodded once. "And...that's it?" Nuriko nodded again. "That's it," he said firmly. Taking his knife from his belt, he moved away from the door, and stood silhouetted against it. With a quick movement, he grasped his long braid at the collar, and sliced through it easily. It felt limply into his hand. He looked down at it, his face an unreadable mask. Miaka heard him whisper something in that moment. "Good-bye, Kourin." Nuriko tucked his braid into his belt, and sheathed his knife. He turned around, and looked to Miaka, a forced smile upon his face. "It's really hot in here. I think I'll go outside for a bit." With that, he left. For a long while, Miaka sat in a daze, unable to move; her only thoughts were of the tears that she had seen shimmering in Nuriko's eyes before he had hurried away. "Tamahome, you're lucky," Tasuki slurred, finishing off the last of the burning, amber-colored liquid in his glass. He was marginally proud of himself - so far, he had drank five shots of the stuff called "his'key", and he was still in complete control of himself. On his left, Tamahome looked down into his drink, absorbed with his own dark thoughts. To his right, Chichiri said nothing, still seemingly unaffected by the night's drinking. Tasuki shook head, the room swaying as he did so. <How does the lil' squirt do it?> he thought irritably, watching the fox-faced magician down his seventh glass smoothly. "How am I lucky?" Tamahome asked finally, looking up at them both with tired eyes. Tama-chan had been entirely too depressed since his family had been killed, and Tasuki had hoped that spending some time together might perk him up a bit. However, it seemed to be having the opposite effect, and that discouraged him immensely. Always one to try to joke his way out of a foul mood, Tasuki slapped the dark-haired man on the back in a friendly-but-hard manner, connecting with the solid muscle underneath the clothes. Instantly, he regretted such an action. He shook his hand, trying to work out the pain, and blew on it before responding. "You caught Miaka," he said finally, the pain in his hand numbing. "She sure is pretty...and nice. I wish I had a pretty nice girl too." He hiccuped. Tamahome turned to look at his companion seriously. Tasuki's eyes were blood-shot and tear-rimmed, and a giant grin was plastered across his face. "You're already drunk," he accused his friend, smirking. "I am not!" Tasuki protested loudly, slamming his fist down. He pointed up into the sky, defiant, looking as though he intended upon saying more. Suddenly, he paused, realizing that he wasn't going to be able to finish his fight with Tama-chan tonight. Without warning, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped over, his forehead smacking into the bar with a loud whack. Chichiri and Tamahome both winced. "That's gonna hurt, no da." Tamahome nodded in agreement. He knew that Tasuki was going to wake up in the morning with one hell of a hangover, and that knowledge gave him a perverse amount of pleasure. He finished off his drink, and ordered another. The bartender, a giant-of-a-man, wiped the inside of a glass, and then put it on the counter, filling it with some more of the potent drink. Tamahome downed it in one gulp, and cringed as it burned all the way down into his stomach. He ordered another. "Tamahome, why are you doing this to yourself?" Chichiri asked, watching him carefully. "Doing what?" he asked nonchalantly. Feigning ignorance wasn't his style, and Tamhome knew that Chichiri understood him too well to let him get away with such a response. He could feel the magician's shrewd eyes boring into him, as he waited patiently for the truth to emerge. He took a swig off of his new drink, and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe this will make the nightmares go away for a little while," he said, feeling the darkness begin to consume him again. He let it come, staring at his reflection in the cinnamon-colored liquid below. Unconsciously, he shivered, as the memories of that day slowly came... Chichiri sighed. "Maybe so, Tama-chan," he said, his voice gentle, "but the hurt won't - not until you want it to." He stood, and picked up Tasuki, using a small spell when no one was looking, to help make his load a little lighter. Their unconscious friend groaned once, but did not wake up. He turned to face Tamahome once more. "I'm going to put him to bed, no da. I'm sure Miaka will wait up until you say your goodnights." With that, he left the barroom, Tasuki slung over his shoulder like a burlap sack. Tamahome finished off the rest of his drink, and paid the bartender, standing up to follow his friends. For a few moments, the room spun, but then everything righted itself, and, eventually, he managed to drag himself up the stairs. The stranger mentally tisked, following the handsome Seishi with his eyes alone. He watched the boy swagger from the room and head on up the stairs, following the others. A smile danced across his rich, full lips, but did not quite reach his cold, emotionless eyes. "Those were three of Suzaku's Warriors then?" he murmured to himself, considering what he knew of them. "Hmmmm... Interesting." Sliding his slender fingers into his rabbit-furred gloves, the Sakurazukamori smiled to himself. This would be an interesting hunt after all, he decided. Leaving the barroom, he headed through the entrance to the inn and then out into the dark, cold streets once more. When he got to Miaka's room, Tamahome paused. He wanted to knock, but something stayed his hand - he was ashamed with himself for his state of drunkenness, and didn't really want Miaka to see him this way. Her opinion of him mattered very much, and he knew that he would lower himself by several notches in her favor if he appeared to her in such a state. Cursing himself under his breath, he turned to leave. Miaka's door opened suddenly, and she appeared. Clothed only in a nightdress, she rubbed her eyes sleepily, and smiled. "You came back," she murmured in relief, and hugged him tightly. Gently, Tamahome felt himself led into her room. The door clicked shut behind them, and then Miaka's hands were upon him, guiding him to lie down. He did as was bidden, feeling the soft cushions under his head, and the covers drawn up around him. And then she was there. Miaka's smaller frame cuddled up against his, holding him tightly against her. Within moments, however, she was fast asleep. The combination scent of lilacs and sunshine came to him, sweet and fragrant. He buried his face into her hair, and inhaled deeply, remembering that Miaka had gone to the bathhouse earlier. He guessed that she had used her specially perfumed soap as she had washed up. He loved this smell, and he associated it only with her. It was Miaka's scent. Tamahome suddenly became aware of her warm, lithe body pressed innocently against him. His heart sped up without warning, pounding loudly in his ears. When she accidentally rubbed against him the wrong way, it set off a physical chain reaction. Being this close to her was dangerous, he knew, especially after having had - how many drinks? - in his system. He groaned, and tried to think of anything to take his mind off of the situation. However, no matter what he tried, he could not stop his thoughts from returning to the moment. Already, he could feel his excitement coursing through his veins, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before Miaka felt it as well. In desperation, he turned to the one thought that was guaranteed to turn him off. The image of Taiitsu-kun came clearly to his mind. Blech! That did it. Tamahome's passion quickly cooled off, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Miaka had been unaware of his internal struggle, having remained asleep, and he was thankful for it. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head against his shoulder, and sighed in relief. As he lay silently holding her, new thoughts came to him. She hadn't seemed a bit angry at him for being drunk. The smell of alcohol was so powerful upon him; there was no way that she couldn't have known. He was drunk, and it was late, and he knew that they had made plans to leave early the following day. So, why was she being so understanding? He didn't deserve this kindness. With himself and other members of the group suffering from hangovers in the morning, they would be set back by hours. Time was of the essence in this race to get the Shinzaho, and they couldn't afford to waste any more than they already had. As the "leader" of the Suzaku Seishi, it was _his_ responsibility to make sure that this sort of thing didn't happen. He knew that it was the alcohol affecting his judgment, for it tended to take one to the heights of happiness, and then force them to crash suddenly. He knew he was in this latter period, but had little control over his thought process when it began to tangent in wild conjecture. It would be all _his_ fault, he reminded himself, if they didn't get to the Shinzaho before Nakago did. If that happened, he'd never be able to fulfill his promise to Miaka, and see her safely back home. Tears filled his eyes at the thought of her leaving. He didn't want to fail her. <Father...Chuei...Shunkei...Gokuran...Yuiren....I failed you already, didn't I?> With a small sob, Tamahome wrapped his arms around Miaka tightly, holding her to him as if the world itself was sinking. He didn't want to lose her too, and prayed to Suzaku that he would be able to be with her always. He knew then that he wanted to go with her when she want back to her own world, and felt his shoulders shake with the weight of the pain and fears he had been holding back for weeks. The tears blinded him, pouring down his cheeks heedlessly. Vaguely, he heard a tumble of pleas escape his lips, unconscious of what he said. "I'm so sorry, Miaka...please, take me with you always... don't leave me behind...I want to be with you forever..." Unexpectedly, Tamahome felt Miaka's lips upon his own. She murmured soft, soothing words to him, and kissed him again, trying to take away all of the grief with touch alone. He felt as though he was drowning in his sorrow, and only Miaka could take it away from him. She drew out all of the poison within his soul, replacing it with a burning hope and a passionate love. When they finally drew apart, she was blurry before him, but the look in her eyes was as clear as a calm pool of water. The pain began to ease slowly, and Tamahome felt his eyelids quickly becoming heavy. He wanted to stay awake and stare into her beautiful, dark eyes for the rest of his life, but he found that his will resisted him. His last thoughts, before sleep took him, were of how truly blessed he was to have this sweet angel in his life. A shadow in the hallway moved, having witnessed what has passed between the two lovers, before Miaka's door had shut him out. Silently, the figure shifted to his own room where he laid his head down on his pillow. He fought back the tears, but they came anyway, unbidden, filled with a heart-breaking, lonely bitterness. Finally exhausted, Nuriko closed his eyes, intent upon sleeping, wishing that he had done what his roommate had done earlier, and drunk himself into oblivion. "Owww....it hurts!" Tasuki whined, touching the large lump on his forehead with care. He frowned, and squinted as the pain continued to throb. "Hey, Mitsukake, can't you do anything for it?" The large, normally-quiet man continued petting his cat, and chuckled under his breath. For a few moments, he considered not granting his fellow Seishi's request. <Would teach him a good lesson>, he thought, sorely tempted, then shook his head. No, they all needed to be at their best if they were to go hunting for the Shinzaho today. Mitsukake crossed the room that he and Chiriko had shared the previous night, and reached into his pouch at his waist. He withdrew a small urn, removing the cover from it. This was the special medicine that Taiitsu-kun had given him before they had left Konan, and he tended to use it sparingly. Reaching in, he gathered some of the healing powder, and then applied it to Tasuki's head. After a few seconds, the fiery-haired youth sighed happily. When Mitsukake moved away, Tasuki's forehead appeared completely normal. The bump was gone, as was the pain. "Thanks!" he cheered, grinning in excitement. He gave Mitsukake the 'thumbs-up' sign, and winked, but the tall man paid him no further heed, and returned to packing away his stuff. "Should have let him suffer, no da," Chichiri teased, coming up behind them, carrying his things in after him. Mitsukake grunted in reply, but did not look up. Tasuki made a sour face at the grinning magician, and pointedly snubbed him thereafter. From her seat on the edge of the bed, Miaka giggled. Tamahome came into the room next, carrying his packs on his shoulder. He had visited Mitsukake earlier that morning, and now seemed as lively as Tasuki. He placed his belongings on the floor in front of the bed, and joined Miaka on its edge. She colored slightly, remembering the night before. True, nothing had happened between them other than the kissing, but their relationship had strengthened, she knew. For once, Miaka felt good about things. "Where's Nuriko?" he asked, taking in the gathering group. Tasuki shrugged, unconcerned. "He said that he wanted to see the town before we left." A strange fluttering began in Miaka's stomach. She reached up and tugged on Tamahome's sleeve. He fixed his attention upon her, and for an instant, she almost forgot what she was going to say, as she stared into his beautiful golden-eyes. Then, the gnawing concern returned full force. "Tamahome, I'm worried about Nuriko." "I'm sure he's alright," he replied, smiling to ease her. "He's only going into town." Tasuki snorted in agreement. "I don't think bandits would want to tangle with him," he said, smirking. Miaka shook her head. "That's not why I'm concerned." She could not properly express the uneasiness she felt. It nagged at her, like a forgotten appointment or date. She tried to put the situation to words, scratching at her head. "He's been acting...strange...lately." "Can you tell us how?" Tamahome asked, attempting to coax an answer from her. For an instant, Miaka considered not revealing what she and Nuriko had discussed the previous evening, but then the sickening feeling returned, and she knew that she must. She explained the events of the night before, and when she finished, she was surprised to see the shock clearly registering on each face. She blinked in surprise at the reaction. "Didn't any of you notice that his braid was gone?" Tamahome shook his head. "I haven't seen him since we came here yesterday," he said, still amazed at what he had been told. "The most important thing," Chichiri piped in, "is _why_ he did it. Miaka, you know him better than anyone, no da. What did he say?" Miaka tried to remember his exact words. "He said that he accepted that Hotohori would never think of him in that way, and that he wanted to be 'the man he was born to be' so that he could protect me as a Suzaku Seishi. He said that in order to do that, he needed to put away his past and start a new life. Cutting his hair off was the first step." Tasuki whistled in amazement. "That's a big decision to come to," he commented. "You've gotta respect that." Everyone nodded in agreement. "I want to go out and find him, if that's ok," Miaka said, already putting on her heavily-furred coat. Tamahome's hand on her wrist restrained her. "Only if you take one of us along," he said protectively. Tasuki stood suddenly. "I'll go. It'll be nice to see the town before we leave." Tamahome reluctantly nodded. "I'll see to the horses and get us ready to go. We'll leave in an hour, agreed?" Miaka nodded, and she and Tasuki headed out. Once outside, they looked around the already busy streets. "Which way?" he asked, looking to her for direction. She looked first right and then left, then pointed to the right. "How about this way?" she asked, moving out into the street. Tasuki stepped into stride alongside her. Han'ma wasn't a small town by any standards, and its many residents hurried to and fro through the slush and mud, wrapped in their cloaks. Miaka noted how many of them never looked up, trudging about their business. <So different from Konan>, she thought, remembering how the people there had strolled around, always full of life. <Then again, they never had to live in perpetual cold.> It wasn't long before they spotted Nuriko's retreating back, heading towards the long line of mercantile vendors. They followed, trying to catch up, but the mire under them, and the people around them made it hard to do so before he stopped. Standing in front of a decrepit booth, he gazed downward at a pair of women's riding gloves. Gently, he picked up a pair of light-tan colored, doe-skinned ones and stroked them between his fingertips. The childish light of excitement reflected upon his face as he tried them on, his slender fingers easily slipping comfortably inside. Miaka noted as he took in the craftsmanship, carefully inspecting the stitching, as any woman who had been trained at the Emperor's Court would do - after all, royalty only sought out the best of things to possess. As she watched him, Miaka felt a small stab of sadness within her heart. Perhaps Nuriko wasn't as set about his decision as he'd pretended to be. She exchanged a knowing glance with Tasuki, who only sighed. Nuriko paid for his purchase, and continued on down the street, carrying the precious gloves bundled inside of a fur-wrapped casing. Again, he stopped at another booth, but then continued on. Miaka decided to catch him quickly, so that they could hurry with their sight-seeing and be back in time. She quickened her stride, and caught him at yet another booth. "Good morning!" she said cheerily, bouncing over to him with a bright smile plastered on her face. He smiled back, just as bright. "Good morning, Miaka! How did you sleep?" For an instant, last night came back to her and she blushed again. She forced the memory of Tamahome's warm lips pressed against hers from her mind. "Um...Tasuki and I were just out sight-seeing," she said, pointing behind her. Nuriko looked over her shoulder, questioningly. "You were? Well, where is he then?" Miaka blinked, then whirled around. Tasuki was nowhere to be seen. "Well, he _was_ right there. Hmmm...I wonder where he went off to?" She quickly became annoyed at his absence. Trust Tasuki to go wandering off and get lost. Nuriko's shout of laughter caught her full attention, and she turned back to him. He grinned, and, putting down the necklace he was looking at, continued on down the street. Miaka matched his stride easily. "Tasuki's as sly as Chichiri, no da," he remarked. Both of them giggled as they continued on down the street together, chattering away like gossips. The stranger watched the two from across the road, taking in their apparent closeness. He clicked the roof of his mouth - a nervous habit - and followed them inconspicuously as they hopped from booth to booth. The red-haired Seishi had seemingly disappeared into thin air earlier, and he had backtracked, hoping to catch sight of him. No luck. The guy was gone. Shrugging it off, Asagi continued following his two original interests. He looked over both of them carefully, quickly recognizing which one was the Miko, and dismissed her from further thought. The other he made a lengthy visual inspection of. After several minutes, he came to a realization. Cursing, he mentally made a note not to trust paid informants anymore - stupid fools didn't even know a man when they saw one! It was so very evident, and he wondered how any of them could possibly screw up such an important tidbit. Then again, Asagi's eyes were used to noticing the hidden oddity. Despite looking feminine, and definitely having a woman's gait, there was something about the lavender-haired boy's body that screamed `male'. It was there when one looked at the Seishi's wrists and fingers, the hold of his shoulders and back. The Suzaku Warrior known as Nuriko was a man. There was no question about it. Keeping to the shadows and corners, the one known to his fellow Seishi as the Elementalor of Water, tracked the pair throughout the hour, until at last they returned to the inn. "Are you sure they're here?" "Of course," Ferio said around a mouthful of bread. He swallowed quickly, finishing his day's ration of food in a short few minutes, but still felt the pain of hunger in his belly. He looked around for more, but Yasha's hand on his shoulder stopped him. Sighing he gave up his search, and finished his report. "I saw that annoying water guy stalking Suzaku's Miko and some of her Seishi this morning in town. He tried to look all inconspicuous, but I knew it was him from a hundred paces away. I wouldn't forget an ugly face like his anytime soon." "Did he know you spotted him?" Ferio snorted. "Feh...you think I'd _let_ him know I was there? I stayed among the crowds, and kept to the walls. For all his eloquent words and fancy clothes, he's got about as much perception and intelligence as a pile of horse droppings." The sunlight shifted subtly in the large barn, and then a new voice came to them from behind, emerging from the only shadowy corner in the entire building. "The man you speak so lightly of, young Prince, is _very_ dangerous, and not someone to underestimate." The light coming in from the numerous cracks in the walls reflected off of raven-colored hair, and in dark, glittering eyes. Both men nodded in welcome to their comrade, and Sohma returned the gesture, before finishing her report. "His given name is Shougo, but his Seishi name is Asagi. He's one of Genbu's, and his power is the ability to control water - as you well know. By himself, he may not be much of a threat against us, but Asagi isn't alone anymore, and that makes him lethal." "Who are the others?" Yasha asked, turning to face her fully. For a moment, she admired his looks, noting the fathomless, dark eyes, the rich, full lips that slightly curved downward, and the strong jawline...With an internal shake, she forced her thoughts back on track. "The soul-eater, Nataku, and Genbu's protector, Ashura, were with Asagi when he came into town." She paused to let the information sink in, noting the way Yasha's eyes widened in recognition of the name of his former lover. Purposefully, Sohma said nothing more about it. If Yasha wanted to know about Ashura's involvement with their enemy, she could certainly find out for him. Of course, he'd owe her then. She internally smiled at that prospect, but kept her expression carefully neutral. "Just the three then?" he asked, his voice having grown even colder, more distant than usual. Sohma shook her head. "Last night, Seishirou Sakurazuka arrived," she informed him, feeling the hackles rise on the back of her neck as she thought about the man. She unconsciously shivered as the memories threatened to come back for an instant, but quelled them easily, pushing them back down into the darkest depths of her soul once more. Sohma was the only one among the three of them that knew what the Sakurazukamori could do, and he was the only man she had ever feared. "He staked out Suzaku's group easily," she continued, "but I lost him on the way to Seiryuu's camp." There...the admission had been costly to her, but she had made it nonetheless. Yasha's eyebrow raised questioningly, and Sohma took the blow to her pride with a sigh. "It's those dammed illusions he weaves," she said in way of explanation, and shrugged in annoyance. "I'm not a sorcerer, you know. I can't dispel them." The corner of Yasha's mouth curved upward for an instant with his slight amusement. He was seeing the usually calm, solid Sohma lose control of her emotions for the first time. She threw him a deadly, flat look, understanding his silent thoughts, and he immediately sobered. Throughout their discussion, Ferio had continued to rummage through his pack for more food, listening, but not paying too close attention. After all, when survival instincts kicked in, he reasoned, they came first. Within minutes, he emerged triumphant - producing some fruits, which he quickly sat down to devour. He hummed to himself as he chomped at a red, delicious apple, wiping the excess juice off his chin with the back of his hand when it dribbled. With her report done, Sohma bowed gracefully at the waist to their leader, and went to join the spunky, little Prince for dinner. The two sat in the freshly cut hay and traded steamed rice balls for bread and fruit. Yasha, watching them, sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. He and the other two had traveled hard for the past six days to get to this place, hoping to get to the previous Genbu no Miko's Shinazho first. Now he was contending with not just the weather, but with the Warriors of all four Gods as well. He thought hard about this, trying to work through the nagging feeling that he was missing some important detail. The more he considered what he knew, the more he became convinced that this entire situation did not bode well for his world. It had always been prophetized that "when a country is on the brink of extinction, a girl will come from another world and become the Miko" for that country's God. More than three hundred years had passed since the first Mikos had arrived; they had been Genbu's and Byakko's. When they had gone from this world, it had been assumed that the perils for Sairou and Hokkan countries had come to a conclusion as well. However, with the recent appearance of the Seishi for Suzaku and Seiryuu, as well as the reemergence of new Seishi for Genbu and Byakko, that meant that all four Mikos were due to converge upon this world at the same time. Yasha easily put two and two together, and did _not_ like the answer. Four Shrine Maidens appearing at the same time meant that all four countries - Konan, Kutou, Sairou, and Hokkan - were in grave danger. The big question remained: who or what was coming that would cause the entire universe to tremble and prepare itself for disaster? No matter what the answer was, Yasha knew one thing for certain - it was now a race against time to be the first to call one of the Gods. With Suzaku and Seiryuu's group having a major head start in locating their Mikos first, he could only hope that luck would favor them. "So, how many Seishi are looking for the item as well?" he asked, his deep baritone echoing across the rafters. Sohma looked up from her meal, and considered his words before answering. "There's one currently missing from the Suzaku Seishi - the Emperor Hotohori. To be expected, however, considering his job. He's back at the Imperial Palace, trying to stop the border disputes with Kutou Country. As I understand it, the Suzaku Seishi were infiltrated by a spy a few months back, and were tricked into burning the Summoning Scroll before all seven of the _real_ Warriors had gathered together. Now, they need the Shinzaho to call forth Suzaku. That explains their presence in this area. As for Seiryuu's group, I couldn't get close enough to their camp to know more - some sort of tremendous power blocked me out. I assumed that annoying little monk, Miboshi, erected a spiritual barrier to keep out nosy 'guests'. If that's the case, it's a good bet that they know I was there. Rumor has it though, that they've lost a Seishi - Amiboshi was his name - in a fight with some of Suzaku's Warriors. He supposedly drown in a river, so they're also going to need the Shinzaho to call forth their God." Yasha nodded. What he knew of the Seiryuu leader, Nakago, was enough to draw the conclusion that the man was no fool. The Warlord of Kutou would quickly figure out that Sohma had gone for a visit last night to his encampment. Once more, Yasha felt the icy hand of Fate gripping him, and knew that the element of surprise was no longer in their favor. "And the rest of Genbu's group?" he asked, pressing her for more information. He could see the dark, tired lines under Sohma's eyes, knew she was exhausted, but her incredible power of stealth gave them an advantage that they couldn't afford to pass up. She made no complaint, however, to his requests at gathering information. Sohma's loyalty knew no bounds - once one obtained it, that was. He smirked to himself. She was a hard woman to win over. It seemed that she breathed a small sigh of relief at his question. "They're missing three of their number, and haven't located their Miko yet." "Then, at least we're even." The new voice drew everyone's attention to the far end of the barn. Standing there, silhouetted against the open door, a young man, maybe in his early twenties and dressed in ceremonial white robes, stood alone, his ebony-colored hair stirring in the light breeze coming from outside. He said nothing more, waiting quietly, watching. Yasha stood, unsheathing his sword quickly, but held it at bay. It hummed to life in his hand, sending a warm , familiar tingle up his arm. To his right, Sohma stood at the ready, her twin crescents flicking between her fingertips, her evening meal forgotten. Just beyond her, Ferio's massive blade could be seen, its razor-sharp edge glinting in the shafts of sunlight coming from the thatched roof. "And you are?" Yasha asked, his tone menacing in its coldness. He examined their new 'guest' carefully, mentally sizing him up. He noted the serious, harsh lines around the youthful, emerald eyes - eyes that were much too old for one his age. The young man was thin, tall, and exceedingly handsome by any standards. His face was stolid, emotionless, and Yasha felt an instant affinity to the look behind the boy's gaze. The stranger paused, then reached up slowly and opened his robes. Even from this distance, the symbol in the middle of his chest radiated with a bright, clear light. "Hikaru" - meaning "to shine." The mark struck a cord of familiarity, and Yasha lowered his weapon, feeling a small amount of relief. Perhaps luck _was_ on their side after all. "My name is Subaru Sumeragi," the stranger said, "and I am like you - a Warrior of the Tiger-God, Byakko." TO BE CONTINUED.... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Notes: Seishi = Japanese for a spiritual warrior/protector. Chichiri often says "no da" after his sentences. We understand this to be a quirky (although much adored) dialectic inflection. If it helps, you can envision it as a means of asking for agreement from others (sort of like "you know what I mean?" in English). Shortening someone's name, and adding "-chan" after it is a way of inferring affection for a loved one in Japanese, although it is usually considered "baby talk". F.Y.I., the Four Gods of The Sky and Earth are: Suzaku - The Southern Red Peacock [Phoenix] (protector of Konan Country) Seiryuu - The Eastern Blue Dragon (protector of Kutou Country) Byakko - The Western White Tiger (protector of Sairou Country) Genbu - The Northern Mysterious Warrior [Snake/Turtle combined] (protector of Hokkan Country) **For the sake of creativity, I have altered the original works and characters of the original authors and combined them into this work of fanfiction. To them, and to all who read this and enjoy it, this story is dedicated to you.** "Fushigi Yuugi" is the property of Yuu Watase, Shougakukan, and Da Ran Publishing, 1993. "Tokyo Babylon", "X", "RG Veda", "Miyuki-chan In Wonderland", "Magic Knights Rayearth", "Wish" and "Clover" are the copyright of CLAMP, and Kodakowa Publishing, 1992-1997. "Sohryuden: Legend of the Dragon Kings" is the copyright of its author (whoever that is, I'm not sure), and it's publisher (ditto). All other characters and events of this story are the property of Jennifer L. Mondazzi, copyright 1997. **Please do not copy or replicate this work without written permission from this fanfiction author.** </pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>