Dragon and Phoenix

-o-

They had been staring at the Xiàngqí board for nearly an hour. And that was just since the last move.

But Rikugou didn't mind. It was the time he spent with Sohryuu that mattered, even if the shade of the paulownia tree overhead offered little respite from the summer heat.

"Give up yet?" he said as he fanned himself in vain.

Sohryuu scowled over the board in lieu of an answer.

A few more minutes ticked by, nothing but the drone of cicadas to fill the silence between them, and at last it looked as though he was going to make his move. He put a finger on his one remaining Soldier—but a hopeful sound from Rikugou made him retract it in a hurry. Next Sohryuu reached for his Cannon—but a glance at Rikugou's face gave him pause.

"I can never tell if you're trying to undermine me psychologically," Sohryuu muttered as he glared back, "or if your tell is really that obvious."

That only made Rikugou grin wider. "You know I'm terrible at hiding my glee when I see my victory just around the corner."

"Or, you're very good at making it appear as though my next move will be to your advantage, in order to trick me into making a different one."

"Is it working?"

"Oh dear. . . ." sighed Sohryuu's old governess, who had taken it upon herself to bring refreshments. "You two are still at it? Young Master, don't you know better than to play games of strategy with a clairvoyant?"

Rikugou snickered at the old term of endearment—which somewhat lost its meaning after millennia—and Sohryuu ignored him. He thanked his governess for the tea.

"You know," she went on, emboldened by the acknowledgement, "if you had a wife waiting for you at home, you would find more worthwhile ways to spend your free time than wasting the day away with this . . . perennial bachelor."

Dragon or not, Sohryuu colored, and Rikugou nearly choked on his tea. "I call illegal move, Sohryuu. Advisors are supposed to stay in the Palace."

With a wounded huff, the old woman plucked the cup from Rikugou's fingers, spun on her heels, and stormed off.

Leaving a flustered astrologer to gape after her and wonder how he had not seen that coming.

"You should be kinder to Baaya," Sohryuu chastised him as he finally decided on a move. "She means well."

Luckily for him, it was not a move that afforded Rikugou an immediate victory. "Immediate" being the key word.

"I have nothing but fondness for Baaya," Rikugou told him, sliding his Elephant. "She knows that. In her own way. I only wonder how many more centuries it will take her to realize just how futile her efforts to marry you off are."

The eyes in his forehead remained trained on the game board between them, but Rikugou raised the pair behind his glasses to Sohryuu, exchanging a knowing look.

And Sohryuu didn't mind that he was going to lose this game of Xiàngqí no matter what he did. In any way that truly mattered, he had already won.

龍~o~鳳

He could still remember his first glimpse of Rikugou across the palace gardens, as a boy barely older than Tenkou was now, in shapeless robes, arms full of scrolls as he hurried to keep pace with a philosophizing Genbu.

"Who's that? I haven't seen him around before."

"Oh, Genbu's new student?" said Kouchin, following the direction of his gaze. And so far he seemed a struggling one, oblivious to the fact that Genbu was making him carry that huge armload of scrolls—from which Genbu never intended to teach—and walk at such an infuriatingly slow pace just to test the boy's patience. "Rikugou, I think I heard him called."

A name that spoke volumes to Sohryuu, as it encompassed the entire Universe. Rikugou looked the part, too, his golden hair and skin seeming to faintly radiate light, despite the overcast day. Like a star bound up in human form. Or a meteorite still aglow from its fall through the atmosphere.

Though he didn't feel like any fire type to Sohryuu. Which was just as well. He tended to butt heads with fire types.

The next time Sohryuu saw him, the light had faded somewhat, if not the glow. Rikugou's smile could light up the darkest room in the palace.

As could the extra pair of eyes in his forehead, though in an entirely different way. Rikugou may still have been green, but they were ageless, of another space and time.

"You're Sohryuu, aren't you?" he said, oblivious to the discomfort those eyes and their unblinking stare caused. "I had a feeling we would meet today. I saw it in my horoscope."

"You can read the future?"

"I can talk to the stars." Rikugou confided this in him like it was a secret for just the two of them to share. "Want me to ask them about you next?"

龍~o~鳳

Rikugou grew fast. Another foot in height, another foot to that golden plait. Though, Sohryuu noticed, he always kept pace with his dragon friend, never out-aging Sohryuu in appearance by a single day.

And Rikugou wasn't the only thing putting down roots in a hurry. If he stayed near a potted plant long enough, it might double in size. Hibernating bulbs might poke new shoots out of the dirt if he was meditating in the vicinity. Trees in fruit and summer foliage might be tricked into fresh bloom if he touched their branches.

As though they were blushing, Sohryuu thought with a smile.

One that didn't go unnoticed by his friend. "Master Genbu says it's because I'm a god of earth," Rikugou said, as though Sohryuu's wonder begged an explanation. "But I think they can feel the starlight in me, too. I don't seem to share his ability to call to the rocks and stones deep underground. My affinity is more for green, growing things."

Pears hung green on the limbs. But those nearest Rikugou's hand seemed to swell and flush a deeper gold. Even the cicadas hidden in the leaves sang a little louder.

"Sunlight is the source of life, after all."

"More so than water?"

Rikugou's eyes narrowed as he detected a philosophical challenge. Though the pair set in his forehead stared wide as ever, like two little burning stars. Peering into Sohryuu's soul, trying to read what was in his mind. In anyone else's company but his, Rikugou tried to keep them closed.

But Sohryuu didn't mind them open. At very least, he never felt like Rikugou was ignoring him. "Nothing that's alive," the young astrologer said, "could survive for long without sunlight."

"Mm, nothing could survive without water, either. You have to have water for life to exist."

And, eager to win his point, Sohryuu placed his own hand to the tree. His qì called to the water that flowed through the trunk's vasculature, down to the tip of every branch and out to the leaves—and down again, to the roots hidden beneath their feet. He may not have controlled the ground itself, but there was water flowing even there, saturating every granule of dirt. He bid the water in the tree to flow backwards, just as he was wont to do to the water in the garden brooks and the palace fountains to amuse the court—

"Sohryuu, stop!"

He opened his eyes.

But rather than seeing Rikugou awestruck, as had been his intention, he saw his friend cringing and holding his middle. All eyes squeezed shut in pain. As though Sohryuu had physically struck him.

He released the tree.

"Don't do that," Rikugou said in a small voice.

But I didn't mean any harm, I only wanted to impress you, Sohryuu almost said, but thought better of it before a word could pass his lips. He realized how selfish it would have sounded, how callous, when he saw the unshed tears in the corners of Rikugou's eyes. Fallen, unripe pears and yellowed leaves surrounded him, and the cicadas had all gone silent. "I'm sorry."

"Just go."

龍~o~鳳

The Emperor ordered a house built around the enormous paulownia tree where Rikugou had first entered their world. It had been a wild grove then, but with Rikugou's care and presence, soon became a tamed paradise. There were delicate maples that caught on fire in the autumn, camellias that stuck out their tongues at the winter snow, irises that stretched out their trifold arms to the rains of late spring. Rhododendron and flamboyant burst abloom like bright fireworks on warm summer mornings, above the cloud banks of hydrangea that would, at some much later date, become a source of envy for one Tsuzuki Asato.

Bamboo never encroached where it wasn't supposed to—though sometimes it had to be asked politely to stay within its bounds. The roots of figs twisted into intricate living bridges from which one could sit and watch catfish frolicking in their pools among the frogs and lotus. White wisteria and jasmine provided scant shade for the patios, but with the slightest breeze, blanketed everything near in their clean, pure scent.

If one listened closely enough, and if the air were still and the birds and insects quiet for long enough, one might hear them all whispering to one another in their own mysterious language. So Sohryuu must have known that, among Rikugou's conspirators, he would not go unnoticed for long.

"Baaya will be wondering where you disappeared to," the astrologer chided him, as he peered down at Sohryuu through the dappled shade of the paulownia in bloom.

Hands behind his head, back against the cool earth and soft grass, Sohryuu didn't really care what anyone else thought about him at the moment. And he told Rikugou so.

Who laughed. "Yes, but I'll catch hell for it if she learns you were playing truant here. Again."

But Rikugou knew by now it was useless to try to change the mind of a dragon, once it was made up. With a sigh of surrender, he shrugged out of his heavy cloak, spread it out on the ground, and lay down next to Sohryuu. His head beside Sohryuu's, his legs kicked out in the opposite direction. As though the two of their bodies were arms in a spiral galaxy. Around them, the anise-scented light-purple flowers drifted down like meteors in slow motion, shook from their firmament by a gentle wind.

"I thought," Rikugou began, in that tone of his that warned Sohryuu he was about to be nagged, "that you were supposed to be meeting with a batch of suitresses today—"

Sohryuu snorted, but Rikugou was adamant: "Baaya had me plot out their horoscopes and everything. It's no laughing matter, Sohryuu. I'm talking long-form fortune-telling, here. I've been bogged down in homework for weeks getting ready for this. Not that I mind the trouble I've been through on your account, but don't you think you should at least meet them? Pretend to be interested? They did come all this way, just to see you, and they're dragons all, each one more beautiful and well-bred than the last."

"I wouldn't expect them to be anything less."

"And Baaya did say—and let me make sure I get this absolutely right—that you were of an age now," Rikugou measured out his words in bunches, just as he had memorized them, "to start thinking seriously about your duty to the continuation of your race. I assume that means something to you."

"You're not a dragon. You wouldn't understand."

"Lucky me, then."

"Let me ask you this, Rikugou. When you read their horoscopes, did any of them match me in compatibility beyond sixty percent?"

Rikugou's silence was answer enough.

"Now you see why I don't feel it's worth expending the effort. Let the others entertain them. It'll be an experience those high-born provincial ladies won't soon forget. But if I go and meet with these women, lovely as I'm sure they are, it will only encourage Baaya in this matchmaking scheme of hers."

"Well," said Rikugou. As he was wont to do when he knew he had no logical comeback but felt he had to say something. Then, after a moment's consideration: "You know, there is more to wedded bliss than compatibility. I mean, it does help, but—"

Rikugou never got any further than that, however, for Sohryuu did not want to hear any more. Cradling Rikugou's head in the crook of his arm, he turned, and pressed his lips against his old friend's. They were warm as sunshine, and pliant beneath his. Unfolding like petals under Sohryuu's gentle pressure, enticing him in like a blossom entices a bee.

Only when he noticed that there was no more rustling in the branches above them, and that even the birds and insects had fallen silent, did Sohryuu look up.

The world around them appeared to have come to a full stop. Falling paulownia flowers hung in the air as if suspended on invisible silk. Jewel-toned hummingbirds and butterflies were caught on the wing in mid-flap.

Amazed at the wonder of it, Sohryuu turned back to Rikugou. "What did you do?"

"Just a small time dilation. I didn't want the moment to end. Not yet."

And, as though to beg Sohryuu's forgiveness, Rikugou curled a lock of sea-blue hair around his fingers, and pulled Sohryuu back down to him.

龍~o~鳳

"How dare you contradict me like that! Were you trying to make me look a fool in front of the whole court?"

Rikugou took hold of Sohryuu's sleeve and tried to lead him somewhere more private, but Sohryuu shook him off. It seemed the dragon was determined to air his feelings in the open, where anyone might hear them. He had been wronged, and wanted everyone to know it.

"It was nothing personal, believe me," Rikugou said in lower tones. "But I could not sit idly by and let our Emperor make a rash decision that would ultimately have been based on nothing but his trust in you."

"Why don't you just say it, then? You think my proposal was a bad one."

Rikugou had to take a deep breath and will himself to calm. There was no reaching Sohryuu when he was so certain. The best Rikugou could do was try not to escalate the situation. He had to appeal to his old friend's logic.

"I think it was made in haste. Without the careful weighing of risk and all possible outcomes that our delicate situation necessitates. What is needed at a time like this is a cool head, and a healthy dose of forethought. We must have plans ready for all eventualities, not just those you would like to have happen. I do not hold it against you, Sohryuu, but you simply cannot see things as I do—"

"Ah, yes. I forgot that you see all. Don't you, Astrologer? Why should the Emperor have need of my lowly opinion when you already know everything that's to happen? It's no wonder you can afford to be so calm when lives are at risk. You must have seen this conflict coming from light years away!"

"You know it doesn't work that way—" Rikugou tried to force himself to calm, but his teeth hurt from clenching them, and Sohryuu had wounded him deeper still. Calling him "Astrologer," when they were so far beyond such impersonal terms. Cutting to the quick of what Rikugou was, mocking those gifts that were all he had to offer in these uncertain times.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't want to wait around until all is made clear," Sohryuu growled. "This is not a time for endless discussing. What you call caution I call hesitation. We live in a time that requires action. We must strike, while we still can, or be lost!"

"I couldn't disagree more! If we do as you recommend, it can only lead to retaliation, and escalation. What we need are level heads, and a comprehensive plan that is grounded in—"

"Grounded! Is there anything more useless than a bird with its feet planted in the ground?"

It was not often Rikugou felt like exploding, and letting the frustration boiling within scald everything and everyone in the vicinity. "Is there anything more dangerous than a dragon so deafened by his own righteousness that he cannot listen to reason? Heavens forbid," he forced a laugh, just to ease the pressure, "anyone question the will of the mighty Azure Dragon!"

"What does a war care about reason! You know nothing of running a state and leading armies, Rikugou. All you know are your books and your charts, and you are too proud to admit that in this matter they have failed to provide you with the answers you so desperately need to cling to."

"I'm the proud one now? Who was complaining a moment ago about looking the fool?"

"Why can't you just admit that your precious stars will tell you nothing where Kurikara is concerned? Unless you think you can simply snap your fingers and freeze this whole damned conflict in its tracks—in which case, by all means, snap away!"

Rikugou's eyes roiled as they stared Sohryuu down, outnumbering him three to one.

So why did it feel in that instant as though a shadow had swallowed the sun, robbing Sohryuu of its warmth?

"I hope the Emperor does follow your council," Rikugou said with an iciness that Sohryuu could feel in his veins. "To the very last letter. So when everything and everyone you hold dear are reduced to ashes around you, you will have no doubt in your mind whatsoever where to place the blame."

He knew the moment the words left his lips, however, that he had gone too far. He had wounded Sohryuu too deeply, and perhaps, this time, there would be no recovering from it. Not for their friendship. Though it seemed that, once, apologies had been easy.

He had only given back what he'd received in kind, Rikugou told himself. The longer this war dragged on, the more he felt as though the Sohryuu he once knew was slipping through his fingers. As though he were trying to hold back a river with his bare hands. At some point one had to decide to get out of the current, before he drowned.

If they both made it through this alive, Rikugou vowed, he would never quarrel with Sohryuu again. But for now, he couldn't help longing to see the dragon brought down a peg or two.

龍~o~鳳

"Did you and Father have a row?"

Startled back to the present, Rikugou blinked at Kijin. "Did he say something to you?"

The youth laughed. "No. But you've been distracted this whole lesson. And you usually don't ignore my questions this much unless something's going on between the two of you."

Rikugou couldn't help but be proud of the boy's perceptiveness. Kijin may not have been his own child, and he may have had the strong will of a dragon in him, but there was many a time when Rikugou felt the sense of peace and security a parent must, knowing one's own legacy would be carried on into the next generation.

Even if sometimes that reassurance seemed to come at his own expense.

"Dragons and phoenixes don't mix," was the answer Rikugou gave him.

At which Kijin narrowed his hazy eyes. "I always thought it was the other way around."

"It's one of those things that cuts both ways. A paradox, if you like. The universe is full of them. You see, dragons and phoenixes are both proud creatures. They absolutely have to be right. So, when they are in agreement with one another, they are the strongest of allies and the truest of friends, and all is right in the world."

"And when they're not . . ."

"When they're not, they're the bitterest of enemies, and everyone has to suffer for it. It's an age-old problem, Kijin; nothing you can do. They just can't stop themselves from butting heads. It's in their natures."

"You mean, in your natures, don't you?"

Rikugou hated it when the younger generation showed his up. Yet he wondered if Sohryuu ever saw the wisdom in his son, and was reminded of the Emperor, as Rikugou often was. Even down to his self-satisfied smiles, when he knew he was right, Kijin resembled he whose qì had made him.

"Is that why they say a married couple is like a dragon and phoenix?"

"Just memorize your charts," Rikugou chided him. Though he couldn't very well refute it. Kijin could see through any lie anyone, even Rikugou, tried to sell him. "And not a word of that 'married couple' nonsense to your father's old lady, or he will have reason to be displeased—with you."

龍~o~鳳

But there was truth, both scholars and mighty dragons had to concede, to the old adage that shadows could not exist but by the grace of light. No one would truly know right if there were no wrong to prove it. And without the fight, what reason would there be to reconcile?

There was another adage Rikugou particularly liked, that came to him all the way from some place in the Real World called Rome: that only a fool expected to see figs on the tree when it was not the season for figs. So he never expected Sohryuu to admit he had been wrong, let alone apologize in words. Just as he knew his old friend's guilt would soon get the better of him.

He did not protest when Sohryuu swept aside the star charts Rikugou had buried himself in and straddled his lap. There was nothing in those charts that couldn't wait. The stars moved in sure, slow patterns, but Sohryuu was wearing nothing else under his robe, and the press of his mouth demanded immediate action.

He cursed Rikugou under his breath for his Western trousers, but Sohryuu managed to get them undone with the loss of only one button. With no help from Rikugou, of course, whose hands were up under the dragon's robe, under his thighs. Sohryuu could feel all six of those eyes on him. No other was capable of seeing him so completely, from so many angles. And that was how he preferred it. No words. Nothing more than the movement of their bodies, in union, sure if not particularly slow.

If the royal sculptors and painters could show the truth in their iconography, the court would blush. To see the dragon coiled around the phoenix like an eddy that expands and contracts with the tide. Caressed by the phoenix's sheltering wings and endless tail, like a comet caresses the river of the sky. Not just two disparate figures circling in the clouds, orbiting the same pearl barycenter but never touching. Rather, each so tangled in the other that one could hardly distinguish one from the other, or tell whether their passionate embrace was one of love or strife.

Perhaps the elusive ideal was always meant to be a melding of both. Rikugou couldn't help but suspect Sohryuu of cheating, feeling the dragon's summons to the waters deep within him, from the tips of his fingers down to the roots of his being. Unaware Sohryuu was accusing him of the same in his thoughts, as Rikugou fueled the sun amassing in his core.

It didn't matter. There were no losers in this game. And when it was over, and they had each had a moment to bask in their respective triumph, they would switch sides, and start anew. Sharing that which was most precious and personal to beings such as they: their very essence, their qì, their understanding.

Pretending they had no idea what all those knowing looks the rest of the court exchanged meant, when they returned to work the next morning and all felt right again in the realm.

Rikugou could worry about that later. For now, with Sohryuu in his arms again, moving slow and sure inside him, all was already just as it should be.

龍~o~鳳

Sohryuu regarded the worn-edged cardboard box Rikugou plopped down between them with a healthy dose of skepticism. "What's that? It clearly didn't come from this world."

Though Sohryuu probably would have hated him for it if he knew, Rikugou found Sohryuu's lack of faith in his intentions rather endearing. "It's a game Tsuzuki taught me last time he was here. Othello. It's quite addictive. I thought you might like to learn it as well."

"A game of chance, or strategy?"

"Oh, I should say there's a fair amount of strategy involved."

Sohryuu narrowed his eyes at his old friend. "You want something. Don't you?"

"Now, why must I necessarily want something? Can't I just play a nice game of wits with an old chum?"

But he should have known better than to think he could withstand the stare of a dragon.

"Alright." Rikugou couldn't hide his grin as he set about disgorging the box of its contents. "Let us make a gentlemanly wager. I win, you agree to meet with this ice dragon Baaya has been going on about. I'm not asking you to make any promises, just say you'll have dinner with the young lady for your children's sake. At least go through the motions of giving her some serious consideration before you reject her. You never know, you might actually like this one. I'm sure somewhere out there is a woman even you could consent to settling down with."

"Right, and somewhere out there is a game I might actually beat you at—"

"I've lost plenty of matches to you—"

"—that you didn't throw on purpose."

"Well. There's a first time for everything," Rikugou said in a small voice, and Sohryuu couldn't help but notice not one of those six eyes would look at him.

"And if I win?" Sohryuu prompted him.

"You win, and you can do whatever you please. Tell Baaya you're already married to me, for all I care. I've long been curious to see how that would go over."

Sohryuu was grumbling, however, before he could even finish. "This is a damn set-up! I don't even know the first thing about this game! How can I be certain you won't just make up the rules to ensure I'll move in your favor?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Sure, Sohryuu thought as he studied the other's poor play at nonchalance. He would trust Rikugou like he would trust a snake in the grass.

But he would play along nevertheless, and probably end up losing, just for the excuse to waste the next few hours in Rikugou's exclusive company.

If anyone asked, he could always blame his pride. Rikugou had challenged him, and he had to defend his honor, lest anyone think the mighty Sohryuu could be intimidated by a little board game. No one would question it. He was a dragon, after all.

-o-

Valentine's Day, Year of the Rooster, 4714.

End notes: If you made it this far, thanks for reading! :) This was inspired by two themes, one being the mahjong side story in the manga (scanlations available upon a quick search), in which Sohryuu's governness (or "baaya") is trying to get him engaged (still a bachelor at his age, and a single dad? Just raises too many eyebrows, apparently), and a wager over a game of mahjong is made.

The other theme is the motif of the dragon and phoenix as a symbol of marital-political-cosmic harmony. At which point a lot of readers are probably thinking, I don't remember Rikugou ever being mentioned as a phoenix in canon. You'd be right, because he isn't. But, since his animal form is, as of yet, undisclosed, my own hypothesis is that he represents the fenghuang. (Readers can check out the Wikipedia entry on fenghuang and draw their own conclusions, if they are curious to do so.) "Phoenix" has been used to refer to two different birds in Asian mythology, the fiery Red Bird of the South (Suzaku), or the celestial King of Birds, the fenghuang—neither of which corresponds all that well to what a phoenix is in the West. For the purposes of this story, "phoenix" refers to the fenghuang only, because English. The characters for "long" and "feng" used for text breaks represent the proper animals and their classic motif, complete with pearl.

Xiangqi is Chinese chess, related to Shogi. Rikugou's comment about Advisors staying in the Palace is a reference to a rule in the game (and a not so subtle dig at Baaya to stay home).

The paulownia is the roosting tree of choice for the feng.

The "no figs on the fig tree" proverb is attributed to Marcus Aurelius, and means "it's your own fault if you expect someone to do something against their nature, and are disappointed when they don't do it."