Disclaimer: I don't own the Seishi...they are property of the esteemed Watase
Yuu, as well as all other recognizable characters of Fushigi Yuugi. Kierran and
Yukio are just random characters that happened to be there at the time. However,
I did write this lovely little piece, so I'll cry if you do anything to
it...after all, I'm not making any money, the characters aren't mine, I'm just
playing with a bit of "what happened?" that popped into my little head. I really
have nothing to sue for; I'm a college student!
Note from the authoress: Quick note here for you bored people who are reading
this: this story contains major spoilers up to episode 47! In fact, this takes
place during episode 47... kind of a little "What happened after..." Well, you
know. ^_~
Hope Spings Eternal
by Kitsunehi
Let's have her drink this deity's water...I may not have the power to heal
anyone anymore ...Even this water may not...But, if I put all of my chi into
this...
What're you saying, Mitsukake!? Our powers...even if we could use them, you
can't use yours in your condition!
Genbu's...Seishi...Do you remember Genbu's Seishi? Even though their bodies had
crumbled... they still possessed so much power!
That's a stupid way of thinking! Just leave it to me, and get some rest! Don't
think like...
I...couldn't save...Nuriko...or Chiriko...
You're wrong! None of us could! It's not your fault... Stop, Mitsukake!
Shoka...lend me your strength...
Don't! Stop it, Mitsukake!
* * *
"You son of a bitch!"
"You bastard! Come on!"
"Get back!" Both Konan and Kutou soldiers stopped in their threats to see a
young monk standing on the nearby stairs of the temporary hospital that had been
set up. There were tears of agony streaking his face, his voice rising to a
hysterical scream. "I won't allow you bastards to do with your lives as you wish
in front of me! I'll never forgive you! Back off! Both sides!"
The soldiers did as the monk told them; whether they held any respect for the
man or not because of his order didn't matter. It was the raw emotional pain in
his voice and the glare of absolute and utter hatred in his one good eye that
made them pause and consider. None of them doubted for one moment that he meant
every word and possibly even more with that statement.
Looking around, they saw the sick had been cured; even their own ailments had
disappeared as if they had never been wounded. But in the shelter of the
building, they saw one young man who did not stir. A couple with an infant sat
near him, their heads bowed in prayer. The monk still glared at them, daring
them to continue their battle. Neither side moved, unsure of what to do.
"I said get out of my sight!" Chichiri screamed at them. "Get out! That man died
to allow you to live! If you have any respect for your lives, leave now!" He
bowed his head down, tears still coursing down his cheeks. He wanted to run away
from this place; from the bloodshed and the pain of the war that had erupted.
Their numbers were dwindling rapidly and Miaka and Tamahome had disappeared.
That only left Tasuki, Hotohori and himself. The last three Suzaku Seishi in
their world. Sieryuu had been called, their powers were blocked and there was no
way that Konan could defeat the vastly larger armies of Kutou.
Everything seemed hopeless. He vaguely heard the shuffling of feet as the
soldiers that had been standing off began to leave. He knew he was hoping too
much that they would leave in opposite directions and stop their senseless
killing; this was war and there would only be one outcome. He thought of his
fallen comrades and pain tore at his heart. Nuriko?Chiriko?Mitsukake?all of them
had died and for what? They had tried and failed and now there was nothing. The
unfairness of it all made him want to scream, but all he could do was stand
there and weep bitterly. He fell to his knees and let the pain wash over him in
waves, not bothering to stop them.
"Please don't cry, Oniichan," a small voice pleaded and a tiny hand fell on his
shaking shoulder. "The soldiers are gone now and everyone is okay. Please don't
be sad."
Chichiri looked up and through his tears, he saw a young child, no more than
five, he guessed, standing beside him. The boy's kind brown eyes met his, so
full of innocence and hope, even though there were bandages wrapped about one
miniature arm telling him that the child had been injured. So much hope in such
a small child, he mused, reaching up to place a gentle hand on the top of the
boy's head. Another tear slid down his cheek as he stared at him.
"I'm Kierran," the child introduced himself politely. "What's your name,
Oniichan?"
"I am Chichiri no da," He replied with a small smile. "What are you doing here
all by yourself no da? Your mother must be worried no da."
"Um?" Kierran squirmed guiltily for a moment, his cheeks flushing.
"Kierran! Kierran-chan, where are you?" a woman's voice called frantically.
"Kierran! There you are! You scared the life out of me! Don't wander off like
that!" The owner of the voice rushed forward, taking the boy into her arms and
hugging him fiercely.
"I'm alright, Oneechan," Kierran assured his sister, struggling a little in the
tight embrace. "This is Chichiri?he talks funny."
"Kierran!" the young woman cried, shocked at her brother's statement. "I'm
sorry, Chichiri-sama; Kierran didn't mean it?"
"No need for apologies no da," he told her kindly. "Children are very observant
and I suppose my way of speaking is strange to him no da."
"See? I told you, Yukio," Kierran pressed. "But I was only here because he was
sad and I told him he didn't have to be sad anymore because everyone is better
now."
Yukio bit her lip as she saw a flash of pain cross the young man's features. At
first, she was confused, then recognized him as the one that had brought the
doctor to them earlier. Glancing around, she looked for the other man and saw
the scene behind them. Her own pain stabbed at her heart and she knew why the
holy man was so distraught. "I'm sorry for the loss of your friend,
Chichiri-sama," she whispered, bowing her head down. "He helped so many people
here?"
Chichiri could only nod as he felt the tears returning. There was no stopping
them, nor did he wish to stop them. Suddenly, a small body wormed its way in
front of him and Kierran's arms wrapped around his neck in a hug. It was all he
could do to keep himself from losing all control as he gently returned the
child's embrace. A hand on his shoulder made him glance up. Yukio was knelt
beside them, tears welling up in her own apologetic dark eyes. Before he could
say a word, she wrapped her arms around them, gently stroking Chichiri's hair as
he mourned, murmuring soothing sounds when he finally broke.
Slowly, others in the village caught sight of the trio on the steps. Most
recognized the monk as being there to aid the deceased doctor and all knew the
young woman and her brother. The scene brought children to their mother's
breasts in loving embraces, lovers clung to each other, thankful for the second
chance they had been granted. Men that were now fathers grasped the hands of the
men that had sired them, grown women held onto their mothers as if they were
children again. There were heartfelt prayers murmured for the dead and for the
war to end soon as in the distance, the screams of the dying and the clash of
weapons echoed in the overcast sky.
owari
Yuu, as well as all other recognizable characters of Fushigi Yuugi. Kierran and
Yukio are just random characters that happened to be there at the time. However,
I did write this lovely little piece, so I'll cry if you do anything to
it...after all, I'm not making any money, the characters aren't mine, I'm just
playing with a bit of "what happened?" that popped into my little head. I really
have nothing to sue for; I'm a college student!
Note from the authoress: Quick note here for you bored people who are reading
this: this story contains major spoilers up to episode 47! In fact, this takes
place during episode 47... kind of a little "What happened after..." Well, you
know. ^_~
Hope Spings Eternal
by Kitsunehi
Let's have her drink this deity's water...I may not have the power to heal
anyone anymore ...Even this water may not...But, if I put all of my chi into
this...
What're you saying, Mitsukake!? Our powers...even if we could use them, you
can't use yours in your condition!
Genbu's...Seishi...Do you remember Genbu's Seishi? Even though their bodies had
crumbled... they still possessed so much power!
That's a stupid way of thinking! Just leave it to me, and get some rest! Don't
think like...
I...couldn't save...Nuriko...or Chiriko...
You're wrong! None of us could! It's not your fault... Stop, Mitsukake!
Shoka...lend me your strength...
Don't! Stop it, Mitsukake!
* * *
"You son of a bitch!"
"You bastard! Come on!"
"Get back!" Both Konan and Kutou soldiers stopped in their threats to see a
young monk standing on the nearby stairs of the temporary hospital that had been
set up. There were tears of agony streaking his face, his voice rising to a
hysterical scream. "I won't allow you bastards to do with your lives as you wish
in front of me! I'll never forgive you! Back off! Both sides!"
The soldiers did as the monk told them; whether they held any respect for the
man or not because of his order didn't matter. It was the raw emotional pain in
his voice and the glare of absolute and utter hatred in his one good eye that
made them pause and consider. None of them doubted for one moment that he meant
every word and possibly even more with that statement.
Looking around, they saw the sick had been cured; even their own ailments had
disappeared as if they had never been wounded. But in the shelter of the
building, they saw one young man who did not stir. A couple with an infant sat
near him, their heads bowed in prayer. The monk still glared at them, daring
them to continue their battle. Neither side moved, unsure of what to do.
"I said get out of my sight!" Chichiri screamed at them. "Get out! That man died
to allow you to live! If you have any respect for your lives, leave now!" He
bowed his head down, tears still coursing down his cheeks. He wanted to run away
from this place; from the bloodshed and the pain of the war that had erupted.
Their numbers were dwindling rapidly and Miaka and Tamahome had disappeared.
That only left Tasuki, Hotohori and himself. The last three Suzaku Seishi in
their world. Sieryuu had been called, their powers were blocked and there was no
way that Konan could defeat the vastly larger armies of Kutou.
Everything seemed hopeless. He vaguely heard the shuffling of feet as the
soldiers that had been standing off began to leave. He knew he was hoping too
much that they would leave in opposite directions and stop their senseless
killing; this was war and there would only be one outcome. He thought of his
fallen comrades and pain tore at his heart. Nuriko?Chiriko?Mitsukake?all of them
had died and for what? They had tried and failed and now there was nothing. The
unfairness of it all made him want to scream, but all he could do was stand
there and weep bitterly. He fell to his knees and let the pain wash over him in
waves, not bothering to stop them.
"Please don't cry, Oniichan," a small voice pleaded and a tiny hand fell on his
shaking shoulder. "The soldiers are gone now and everyone is okay. Please don't
be sad."
Chichiri looked up and through his tears, he saw a young child, no more than
five, he guessed, standing beside him. The boy's kind brown eyes met his, so
full of innocence and hope, even though there were bandages wrapped about one
miniature arm telling him that the child had been injured. So much hope in such
a small child, he mused, reaching up to place a gentle hand on the top of the
boy's head. Another tear slid down his cheek as he stared at him.
"I'm Kierran," the child introduced himself politely. "What's your name,
Oniichan?"
"I am Chichiri no da," He replied with a small smile. "What are you doing here
all by yourself no da? Your mother must be worried no da."
"Um?" Kierran squirmed guiltily for a moment, his cheeks flushing.
"Kierran! Kierran-chan, where are you?" a woman's voice called frantically.
"Kierran! There you are! You scared the life out of me! Don't wander off like
that!" The owner of the voice rushed forward, taking the boy into her arms and
hugging him fiercely.
"I'm alright, Oneechan," Kierran assured his sister, struggling a little in the
tight embrace. "This is Chichiri?he talks funny."
"Kierran!" the young woman cried, shocked at her brother's statement. "I'm
sorry, Chichiri-sama; Kierran didn't mean it?"
"No need for apologies no da," he told her kindly. "Children are very observant
and I suppose my way of speaking is strange to him no da."
"See? I told you, Yukio," Kierran pressed. "But I was only here because he was
sad and I told him he didn't have to be sad anymore because everyone is better
now."
Yukio bit her lip as she saw a flash of pain cross the young man's features. At
first, she was confused, then recognized him as the one that had brought the
doctor to them earlier. Glancing around, she looked for the other man and saw
the scene behind them. Her own pain stabbed at her heart and she knew why the
holy man was so distraught. "I'm sorry for the loss of your friend,
Chichiri-sama," she whispered, bowing her head down. "He helped so many people
here?"
Chichiri could only nod as he felt the tears returning. There was no stopping
them, nor did he wish to stop them. Suddenly, a small body wormed its way in
front of him and Kierran's arms wrapped around his neck in a hug. It was all he
could do to keep himself from losing all control as he gently returned the
child's embrace. A hand on his shoulder made him glance up. Yukio was knelt
beside them, tears welling up in her own apologetic dark eyes. Before he could
say a word, she wrapped her arms around them, gently stroking Chichiri's hair as
he mourned, murmuring soothing sounds when he finally broke.
Slowly, others in the village caught sight of the trio on the steps. Most
recognized the monk as being there to aid the deceased doctor and all knew the
young woman and her brother. The scene brought children to their mother's
breasts in loving embraces, lovers clung to each other, thankful for the second
chance they had been granted. Men that were now fathers grasped the hands of the
men that had sired them, grown women held onto their mothers as if they were
children again. There were heartfelt prayers murmured for the dead and for the
war to end soon as in the distance, the screams of the dying and the clash of
weapons echoed in the overcast sky.
owari