Disclaimer: I don't own FY, they all belong to Yu Watase!
Summary: (HotohorixMiaka) AU. Four years after the legend ends, Miaka travels back to Konan in order to save Boushin's life. An unknown evil seeks the power of the Suzaku Seven-- and it's the last chance for Hotohori's wish to come true.
A/N: I've been thinking about this plot line for quite a while, and after watching some FY episodes again I couldn't resist! This story will be on an 'alternate universe' time line...the OVA's have not happened. Miaka is under the impression that her duties as the Priestess are fulfilled, and she can never re-enter the book. (But Hotohori declares that this shall not be so...and no one dares argue with his almighty sparkles) Please read & review!
Dedication: For my sister, whose favorite sparkly bishie is Hotohori!
One Wish
By: Adrianna
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The mirror melts
I'm somewhere else; inside eternity
Where you on outstretched wings, sing within
The Garden of Everything
Where memories call to me ...
- The Garden of Everything, Maaya Sakamoto
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Epilogue: Memories of a Garden
The last battle of Konan:
A blue light.
It felt cold, unmerciful.
Hotohori greeted it with the blade of his sword.
For an instant, he was enveloped within crackling energy. Through the pain he heard Nakago's voice say almost wistfully: Such a waste. I admire your bravery, leading your people into battle. Unfortunately, you shall die for your foolish display of honor...
Hotohori felt his flesh weaken. His mind began to wander though misty pockets of his consciousness where he could hear someone calling out his name.
"Hotohori...!"
He smiled. He knew that voice. His gaze drifted towards the sky-- the heavens, and once again he found himself wishing he could reach for her soft fingers and kiss them one by one.
"Miaka..." he breathed, knowing that although his life force was draining from his broken body, his spirit still responded to her call.
"Hotohori...you can't die! Promise me...!"
Her voice became entwined with the sound of birds singing...his vision became murky as a memory-- his last memory floated up from behind the mists.
They were in a garden, and a quiet beauty reached out with soft petals, lush foliage and rushing water.
Rocks lay scattered like white flecks against the emerald grass. Although they seemed to pepper the ground naturally they served a distinct purpose. Arranged around a large pond which was stocked to the brim with bright goldfish, they supplied the perfect place for someone to sit and enjoy the calming vista.
A waterfall sparkled, sheets of water cascading over a rocky precipice to join the pond below. The sound of gushing water soothed, while the throaty call of birds floated along a breeze that carried with it a hint of orange blossoms.
Miaka sighed deeply, as if she were drinking in her surroundings.
"If this garden had a taste...I think it would be sweet," she said on the wave of another delighted sigh.
Hotohori continued to smile softly at her profile.
"Like chocolate! When I go back to my world, I'll bring you back some chocolate..." Miaka said as she gazed dreamily into the pond, watching flashes of goldfish flit to the surface of the water and then dart away again.
Reaching out her finger, she rested it just on the water's surface and waited. Giggling as a goldfish boldly nibbled her finger, she smiled at her companion.
"I think they're still hungry!" she said as Hotohori gave her another piece of seaweed to feed to the growing number of goldfish swirling around her fingertip. Hotohori felt his heart stir hopefully as their fingers brushed together. He cherished each time he was able to touch her, no matter how ordinary the task.
It revitalized him like a douse of healing water, her skin soft against his rough fingers which were calloused from hours of sword practice.
He watched her as she bent over the clear rippling water, grateful for this brief time in which he could bask in her warmth. Her face was tanned from riding for hours in the sun, but to him she shone with an iridescent glow.
She was his moon, and he would be forever in a distant pavilion built to shelter his hopes as he gazed upon her silver splendor.
Did one ever imagine that they could grasp the moon in their hands, like a precious jewel? He had thought such things were possible when he had been a child-- he would sit in the Pavilion of Light which had been built by his father and gaze at the moon for hours.
In his childish innocence, he had believed that someday when he was a man he would be able to capture the shimmering globe and give it to the Priestess as a token of his devotion.
Hotohori remembered as a child of ten kneeling in the pavilion, free from his restrictive robes and clad only in his father's tunic--which was so big on his lean frame that his mother had let him wear it instead of a more traditional night gown.
The moon had shone bright and full and Hotohori, young prince and Honored Son of the Emperor was breathing in the night air with euphoria.
He had seen her. Today, he had seen her.
It had only been a glimpse; a young girl of no more than seven at play, her chubby cheeks flushed with delight and her curly auburn hair bouncing around her head. Hotohori had felt his heart pound heavily within his chest as something unfamiliar yet provocative bloomed within his heart.
He did not know why or even how he would accomplish it, but he vowed then and there that someday he would kiss her.
He would kiss her, and offer her anything she desired, for she would rescue him from loneliness-- her smile, her bright green eyes...
The royal priest had then pressed a kind hand onto the young prince's shoulder. The young boy was suddenly thrust back to earth, and he resisted the urge to cry out in protest as the little girl's image faded within the glass and the mirror returned to its smooth, black visage.
The priest, who had allowed the future Seishi to see a glimpse of the Priestess that was to be Konan's savior, regarded the prince kindly.
"My prince, now that you have seen she who is to become the Most Honored Priestess, let her presence linger in your heart so you may recognize her when she is plucked from the heavens and descends to us..."
Hotohori remembered.
For eight years he guarded the image of the priestess's green eyes-- as clear and pure as jade-- within his heart. She kept him warm at night.
He wondered what she had been so happy about...had there been someone else there with her too? Somewhere deep within his most hidden thoughts he felt the first needles of jealousy. He was becoming a man, and as he grew the image of the priestess brought him comfort and joy--and a longing need to be with her.
The urge to see her standing before him, real and vibrant seared his dreams. He wondered what kind of girl she had grown into. Was she still as carefree as she had been when he'd seen her as a child at play? Was her mouth now speaking words of blossoming maturity, of awareness?
Did she realize her duty as the priestess...?
Was she frightened at the thought of leaving heaven?
Hotohori had spent many nights lying sleeplessly, willing his voice to reach her across the shady ethers. He offered her words of encouragement and courage.
Whatever strength he gathered from his training with sword and lance, bow and spear he transferred to his priestess.
She visited him often in dreams. Her face was not formed within his mind, but her eyes -- the one feature he knew would not be touched by the effects of time were round and vibrant.
He reached out to her in his dreams, his need growing stronger as each season passed. His father passed away in his twelfth year; he was now the Emperor of Konan.
A Son of Heaven.
Yet being the Son of Heaven brought him no joy. He would have rather had the warmth of his father's arms than the heavy crown which veiled his face from the world. His mother, heart broken that her Emperor had passed into heaven without her soon followed.
His family was gone; he was alone at thirteen years old.
He was surrounded by advisors, ministers and attendants. Their prostrations, fear and reverence made it impossible for him to feel as though he was loved by a family.
He was forbidden to leave the inner palace. Until he turned eighteen, he could not go out into the country and see his people.
Caged birds, fluttering in their gilded palaces were his companions-- horses and dogs that lived within the Imperial pavilions of the inner palace were his first friends.
Still, he did not give into sorrow. He had dreams of the priestess, dreams where she would embrace him and tell him how happy his parents were in heaven. Perhaps she would even know them. It was like reaching for mist, yet he clung to the hope that she would arrive soon.
It had been his mantra. His solace.
Hotohori gazed at Miaka, the cloud of memories breaking apart as the words he had spoken so many times flooded back to him.
"I shall touch the light in your eyes...and know heaven..." he whispered reverently, over come by the memories of his youth. Memories that were so entangled with the young girl who now sat beside him.
Yet she had no inkling as to how much she had influenced his life. To her, they had first met in the court yard, by the temple of Suzaku. In truth, he had known her nearly all his life.
He remembered the way he had felt his heart soar as he had gazed into her green eyes-- and realized that although time had changed her face she was still the child he had seen in the Holy Mirror-- a relic of the great creator, Taiitsukun.
"That was beautiful..."
Hotohori felt his cheeks flush with heat. Suddenly, Miaka was sitting up and gazing at him intently. His expression must have conveyed his confusion, because she smiled and lifted her finger to point at her own eyes. Hotohori felt a swell of longing-- how he loved her charming gestures!
"What you just said...about the 'light in your eyes'...is it poetry?" her curious nature stirred once more the urge to draw closer to her, but he remained still.
"I would call it a song... a song which is never ending," Hotohori answered quietly, a small smile curving his lips as he saw her furrow with more questions.
Before she could ask them, Hotohori reached into his belt and withdrew a small package wrapped in yellow satin. His cheeks were stained with crimson as he offered the bundle to her wordlessly.
"Hotohori--!"
Hearing her delighted cry, he overcame his embarrassment enough to smile as she grasped the bundle and admired it.
Her fingers smoothed over the daffodil yellow satin which was tied up with a mauve ribbon.
Hotohori watched her caress the fabric longingly. If only he were to feel her soft skin...
"Hotohori... arigatou, thank you...!" she exclaimed as she pulled off the ribbon-- and pulled him from delving too deeply into his ardent thoughts. The package lay open in her lap, and Hotohori watched her face keenly as his heart thumped heavily within his chest.
Miaka gazed at the tiny object nestled within the folds of satin. It was a delicate necklace-- tiny jade beads of varying shades sparkling in the sunlight. At the center was a round, polished white stone that glowed like an opal.
Taking it carefully from her lap, Miaka felt tears catch the 'thank you' that floated up from her heart. She swallowed, overcome with the delicate beauty of it. Hotohori felt worried after a moment, when she still said nothing.
He had made the necklace when he'd been sixteen; collecting the pieces of jade from his mother's beaded hair pins and linking them together.
Then he had sought out the roundest, smoothest stone he could find from his favorite retreat-- the pond where they now sat.
Polishing it until it shone even in the darkest light, he hoped that the priestess would like it. Perhaps it would remind her of heaven, just as it reminded him of his promise to pick the moon from the sky and offer it to her as a jewel.
"Forgive me if I was too forward..." Hotohori offered tentatively, unsure as to why she was still so silent. It wasn't like her at all...
"I meant it as a gift of friendship..."
I love you...
"...and I do not wish you to feel obligated..."
Let me love you forever...
"...I have been waiting to give it to you," he finished softly, suddenly aware that Miaka was now very close. Her lips were parted, and her eyes encompassed his vision-- she was crying? Horrified that his gift had caused her sorrow he opened his mouth, whether to apologize or to confess his true motives he didn't know.
Be my wife...as I have always wished...
He could see tears clustered on her dark eyelashes, and her breaths were shallow as she tried to contain them. Without a word, she tilted her face upwards. The garden, the rushing water...the world was blotted out as a single sensation permeated his consciousness.
Her soft lips kissing his cheek.
Hotohori's limbs stiffened as the feel of her mouth pressed against his skin-- his cheeks flushing with pleasure.
He felt as though ruling a kingdom was possible. The priestess was his savior as well.
"Hotohori...!"
He was being drawn back into his broken body, the memory still vivid within his mind.
Hotohori smiled, the warmth from her lips warming his cheek once more. The memory did not fade. He would die with the feel of her mouth against his skin.
As his body was being drawn back into the earth, so his soul was quickly ascending into the sky, up higher and higher in search of her voice.
"Hotohori...you can't die, promise me you won't--!"
"We will meet again. Beyond time, beyond worlds...beyond death. The moon is forever guiding me...and I shall follow you where ever you go."
Miaka's tears stained the pages of The Universe of The Fours Gods, the drops falling like pearls from the sky.
The Emperor was dead.
Hotohori was free.
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I lie on the ground and gaze up at the heavens, feeling like I had been sleeping
The stars are in the heavens, and the flowers bloom on Earth
And you are in my world…
- Boku no Uchuu ni Kimi ga Iru
("You Are In My World")
TBC...
A/N: More chapters to come... please R&R!