DISCLAIMER: Neither Kokkei nor I own Fushigi Yuugi, alas... *Kokkei bursts into hysterical sobs* *Zenshou hands her a tissue*
*ZONK*
*AUTHORS' NOTE: This is an AU fic, centered around the eternal question, "What if Hotohori had come along to Hokkan?" More to come shortly...or...as soon as Kokkei can stop giggling long enough to type. -.-
---
"Nagai Yume"
by Kokkei and Zenshou
~ ~ ~
The sun had just set, leaving behind a soft palette of gold, pink, and violet. A harsh streak of crimson rippled through the soothing background, glared like a splash of blood against the vibrant canvas of the sky.
Gazing up into the fading daylight was a lone figure, a soft night wind brushing the silken strands of chestnut hair back from his broad shoulders, his fingers wrapped lightly around the wooden railing of the palace walkway. His handsome features were twisted up into a pensive expression, the soft, liquid amber of his eyes narrowed in thought.
After a few moments, he was vaguely aware of a familiar presence just beside him. "Chichiri," he said softly, not bothering to turn. "Are the travel preparations underway?"
He sensed the other nod. "Hai." There was a brief rustle of movement beside him as Chichiri removed his mask, leaned forward so his elbows rested against the railing. "You haven't been sleeping well lately, Hotohori-sama." It was not a question.
Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, nodded. "I have...had a lot on my mind."
Chichiri said nothing, waiting expectantly for the young emperor to continue.
After a long moment of silence, Hotohori sighed, dropped his head. "I have been having nightmares," he confided in a low voice. He glanced briefly at the other, at the single crimson eye gazing thoughtfully back at him. "They're like nothing I've ever experienced before." He turned back to growing darkness of the horizon. "It begins with blackness, always. Then..." He shook his head, closed his eyes. "Fragments. And Miaka...screaming." His eyes opened, slowly, flickered downwards towards the shadowed expanse of the royal gardens. His face was pale and haunted. "I don't know what it could mean...except, it feels as if...if I don't accompany you all to Hokkan..." He closed his eyes, trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, harsh whisper. "Something...terrible will happen."
Chichiri was silent for a long moment. "I've always been a believer in prophetic dreams no da," he said at last, matching the young emperor's soft, low tone. "But...not all dreams are prophetic. If this one is no da...it will come again."
Hotohori sighed, turned back to the cool midnight blue of the sky. "Perhaps you're right."
"Until then," Chichiri continued, carefully returning the mask to its place over his scarred features, "it would be a good idea to get some rest no da. If the dream is prophetic...you'll know no da."
Hotohori spent a moment in silence, digesting the words. Finally, he nodded, glanced back at his companion with a slight, gentle smile. "Arrigato, Chichiri."
Chichiri bowed briefly, straightened, and turned. His footsteps echoed against the soft wooden boards of the palace walkway, faded, then vanished entirely, and Hotohori was once again alone.
~ ~ ~
[More to come. Please review! We live on this stuff! ^_^.]
*ZONK*
*AUTHORS' NOTE: This is an AU fic, centered around the eternal question, "What if Hotohori had come along to Hokkan?" More to come shortly...or...as soon as Kokkei can stop giggling long enough to type. -.-
---
"Nagai Yume"
by Kokkei and Zenshou
~ ~ ~
The sun had just set, leaving behind a soft palette of gold, pink, and violet. A harsh streak of crimson rippled through the soothing background, glared like a splash of blood against the vibrant canvas of the sky.
Gazing up into the fading daylight was a lone figure, a soft night wind brushing the silken strands of chestnut hair back from his broad shoulders, his fingers wrapped lightly around the wooden railing of the palace walkway. His handsome features were twisted up into a pensive expression, the soft, liquid amber of his eyes narrowed in thought.
After a few moments, he was vaguely aware of a familiar presence just beside him. "Chichiri," he said softly, not bothering to turn. "Are the travel preparations underway?"
He sensed the other nod. "Hai." There was a brief rustle of movement beside him as Chichiri removed his mask, leaned forward so his elbows rested against the railing. "You haven't been sleeping well lately, Hotohori-sama." It was not a question.
Hotohori closed his eyes briefly, nodded. "I have...had a lot on my mind."
Chichiri said nothing, waiting expectantly for the young emperor to continue.
After a long moment of silence, Hotohori sighed, dropped his head. "I have been having nightmares," he confided in a low voice. He glanced briefly at the other, at the single crimson eye gazing thoughtfully back at him. "They're like nothing I've ever experienced before." He turned back to growing darkness of the horizon. "It begins with blackness, always. Then..." He shook his head, closed his eyes. "Fragments. And Miaka...screaming." His eyes opened, slowly, flickered downwards towards the shadowed expanse of the royal gardens. His face was pale and haunted. "I don't know what it could mean...except, it feels as if...if I don't accompany you all to Hokkan..." He closed his eyes, trailed off. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, harsh whisper. "Something...terrible will happen."
Chichiri was silent for a long moment. "I've always been a believer in prophetic dreams no da," he said at last, matching the young emperor's soft, low tone. "But...not all dreams are prophetic. If this one is no da...it will come again."
Hotohori sighed, turned back to the cool midnight blue of the sky. "Perhaps you're right."
"Until then," Chichiri continued, carefully returning the mask to its place over his scarred features, "it would be a good idea to get some rest no da. If the dream is prophetic...you'll know no da."
Hotohori spent a moment in silence, digesting the words. Finally, he nodded, glanced back at his companion with a slight, gentle smile. "Arrigato, Chichiri."
Chichiri bowed briefly, straightened, and turned. His footsteps echoed against the soft wooden boards of the palace walkway, faded, then vanished entirely, and Hotohori was once again alone.
~ ~ ~
[More to come. Please review! We live on this stuff! ^_^.]