Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Fushigi Yuugi, etc.
Warnings: Mild language, violence. TasMia.
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Firebrand
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We came through the forest. I don't think anybody saw us. We can't stay here long, but we've got to rest. They're wearing us down.
Damn them. They'd better give up soon and leave us the hell alone. I'm out of patience, not that I had much to begin with. For her sake I've held back, but the next time they catch up with us, I swear they'll find out what a mistake it is to piss me off.
She knows. As we find shelter under a fallen tree and make our camp, she doesn't say a word. She never complains. She just lets me fume, and waits.
I step out for one last look around. I prepare a space and gather wood and tinder for a fire if we need one, although it's warm enough that we shouldn't. Then I just stand and stare up at the sky as it starts to turn pale.
After a little while, she comes up from behind and embraces me. She begins to sway gently, and I move with her. That's all it ever takes; the anger and tension trickle out of me and leave behind a quiet that I never manage to find on my own.
We lie down together in our shelter, and I go to sleep and dream that this time, finally, we're really safe.
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It's been going on ever since the night I met her. At first they didn't do anything worse than stare. They stared when I dared touch her. They stared when I walked her back to her tent. They stared when we left together the next morning.
Let them stare all they want, I figured. I was used to being stared at. My red hair marks me as a fire wizard and I've never tried to hide it before.
She's used to it, too. They can feel her presence. They melt out of her way. They're afraid of her too, even though she'd never hurt any of them. She could control every move they make, but she doesn't. She loves them all, and wears herself out to show them joy and peace with her dancing; they fear her, they worship her, but they don't love her.
I love her.
They're jealous, I can see it. Someone like me can hold her, kiss her, laugh with her, while they're afraid even to look at her too closely.
I should have known they'd try to get their statue back.
They cornered me outside one night. They had knives. They didn't have to tell me why they were there; I knew. But I didn't fight then. I ran.
She held me and tended my cuts, and we moved on again. And again. The rumors have spread. Everywhere we go now, they know about us. They're staring. They're whispering.
And at night, they're coming to steal their goddess back.
They don't realize they've already lost her for good.
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At sunset, I wake up to the sound of thunder.
They're here.
They've surrounded us. They keep their distance; they've got that much sense. But they know that all they've got to do is wait. The wind is picking up, and from the smell of it, pretty soon I'll be out of time. The rain's coming.
There are too many of them for me to fight with my sword. They're really not giving me a choice, are they? Do they really think I'll just let them take us?
She's awake now. She looks at me, and she knows they're here too. We both get up, and we can see them ringed around us, watching.
I can't stand it. I pull away from the grip of her hand. I walk toward our firepit, putting on wood and kindling from the pile.
I see a few of them back away. The rest must think I'm bluffing. I want to laugh out loud. They're so brave, a mob against one man and one woman.
She doesn't want me to fight. But I've had enough. You push a man past his limits, you pay the price, right? It'll make it worse for all of us, I know that. They'll hate us even more.
But maybe there wasn't ever any choice.
I kneel and light the firewood.
I've drawn the line, and they know I mean business. Some of them back away further and now I really do laugh. I can't help it.
Thunder rumbles again, and I know I'm almost out of time. The fire leaps up, a roaring pillar fed by my will, and I can see them back away even more. They've never seen someone like me in action before, have they?
Well, they've given us hell all this time—now they get their share.
I gather the flames into my hands, and it's so hard not to just throw everything I have at them. I hurl two balls of flame—they flicker through the trees, leaving a smoldering path. Each of them finds a target, washing over boots and trousers and setting them ablaze. The men drop and start to roll on the ground, trying to put out their clothing, but it's been a long time since the last rainfall. The layers of dry leaves smoke and crackle. They start to yell.
It should be horrible—it is horrible—but it's such a relief, to fight back after all the months of running. The flames feel so good in my hands. Four more balls of flame fly from my palms—six—eight—not one misses its target. Soon a dozen men are screaming and rolling frantically on the ground.
I'm laughing. I know I shouldn't be, but I can't help it. Even though she's crying. She's watching me, and I know, in a foggy, distant way, that if I don't stop soon, I won't be able to.
I look around for more of them, but it looks like I've gotten all of them. Some of them are scrambling out of their burning clothes. It makes me laugh harder. I can hear the hiss of raindrops falling on the leaves above. I know it'll put out most of the fires once it really gets going.
But now I don't want it to.
The fire is so beautiful. I can't take my eyes off it. I dip my hands into it and bring them to my mouth the way someone would drink from a waterfall. I pour more of my will into it, making it rise higher, an inferno that stretches above the trees and nearly drowns out the thunder. I can't hear anything else, not even her voice. Her lips are shaping my name, she's coming closer to me, but the fire pulls me away, like a jealous lover. I lift my hands again, still laughing. It's mine, leaping up and roaring like a tame lion, and I stroke it.
I'm gasping for breath, my heart beating at a frantic pace. From the corner of my eye, I see a few of my enemies have put themselves out and are trying to run away, but none of them matter anymore. The rain is starting to trickle through the leaves now, but it hisses and evaporates in my pillar of fire. There's not nearly enough rain to put it out, and I stand even closer to it, pouring everything I have into it, feeling a bone-deep melting weakness, and still it's not enough. Laughing hard, the tears steaming into vapor on my cheeks from the heat, I start to step into the heart of it.
Then her hands seize my arms and yank me backward. I lose my balance and fall, landing with a splat on the damp ground. My burning clothes smolder as the rain grows heavier and douses the flames.
Everything goes gray. The laughter is gone as if it never came. I'm suddenly too weak to lift a finger, but I have enough awareness left to cut off what's left of my will from the flames. The pillar dies quickly down to a normal campfire, and then sinks into wet ashes as the rain pours down on it.
She's huddled over me, sobbing. I slowly lift my heavy arms to wrap around her. I can hear moans and cursing and sobbing from my victims, and it makes my stomach turn over and my head ache; but her cries are worse.
She'll forgive me without my asking.
Maybe that's the worst of all.