[Chapter Three - Innocence]
"Ayuru."
The man looked around. This was an unexpected turn of events. Either he was hallucinating, or that cabernet at dinner had been stronger than he thought.
"Ayuru," the voice was soft, and light. A thrill of excitement rushed up his spin; he recognized it, but didn't quite believe it to be her. Either this was some very elaborate trick by Taiitsukun, or he had gone mad.
A tall, slender woman appeared, seeming to fade into existence before his eyes. A long, pale braid fell over her shoulder, and silver blue eyes met his gaze.
"Mother," his voice was soft; mesmerized. The last time he had seen his mother had been in the Hin lands before her violet death; before he killed her. But this woman was not really his mother, was she? He'd had a mother in this new life, too, one that died, though not violently. He took a step back from her.
"Ayuru," her translucent body seemed to float toward him. She looked up at him, a smile on her delicately featured face. Her skin looked even more pale in her ghostly state. "You've grown into a handsome young man."
His heart ached. Was he dead, to be with her at last? Or was this some cruel trick, of wine or magic? "Is this possible?"
"Anything is possible with those you love, darling Ayuru."
She came closer then, brushing a stubborn tendril of blonde hair out of his face. Her touch was real, her hands warm, her eyes soft and lively; always understanding, always wise.
"There is something you know you must do here, dear Ayuru." And suddenly he had a vision, not of the world in which he'd lived for twenty-eight years, but of the world that had created a monster in him, the world that had taken away his home, his family, his honor, and his life.
He brushed her hand away, and her expression darkened slightly. "I owe nothing to this world. This world has given me nothing but hell. It is better to let it disappear."
"Ayuru!" her voice was firm, and the sudden force surprised him. She had only used that tone a few rare times, when he had disobeyed. "Didn't you have eleven years in this world before the Kutou army attacked our land? Didn't you enjoy your time with me? With your friends? Should you let their world—our world, be destroyed? I don't believe that I raised such a selfish boy."
"You didn't raise me," his face was lowered slightly. "I raised myself after that point. You do what you have to to survive."
"I never taught you to do things at the expense of others."
He was silent, convicted by her words in a way that he wasn't entirely sure she understood. He wasn't sure if he understood it himself.
"If you allow this world to be destroyed, you are denying your chance to make things right between your past. You are passing up an opportunity that was granted directly from the Creator to rectify the situation you caused."
"How did I cause such a thing?"
"When you forced the Seiryu no Miko to become the Miko, you disrupted the balance. Only one Miko should be called at once. You disrupted the balance by not leaving well enough alone, and you are the only one who can help the Suzaku no Miko in her quest. If you refuse this, all your other Seishi—Tomo, your friend, and Soi, your lover. They will have died in vain. The world that was yours will die in vain. My world, Nakago."
"Soi..." his voice was soft. He looked up at his mother's understanding face and felt the uncontrollable urge to whine like a child. He didn't want this! He wanted to live his life, the second chance he'd been given, without having to remember the horrors that this world brought to him; without having to face the repercussions of what he had done. Damn right it was selfish; it was also human. "I won't have to work with that little twit of a girl, will I?"
"You can always learn from people, my son, even you can learn from her. No doubt, she will learn valuable lessons from you as well," she was slowly fading from view. He had the urge to follow her into the oblivion beyond the mist, but stopped. "You know what the right thing is. You've always known. And now, it's time to follow your true heart, not this one," she tapped her forehead in the spot where the Kokoro symbol no longer appeared on his. As she faded from view, he watched, his face a mask. "Mother..."
Nakago opened his eyes and looked around at the world that was not dreamscape, but no more solid and likely nonetheless. He had sat down to watch the sunset; ironically, something he and his mother had often done, and had fallen asleep. He had hoped this whole mess was just a dream, but he knew he was not that lucky.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up," a high, annoyed voice spoke from not too far. She was standing nearby, a safe distance from him, he noted, small foot tapping impatiently. "So when do we leave?"
"What makes you think I'll help you, Suzaku no Miko?" he watched her face as she tried hard to disguise the many emotions flashing through her eyes by frowning at him. Despite her efforts, he saw desperation and determination, and unsurprisingly, he saw fear.
"I know you owe it to somebody. What about Soi?" she questioned softly.
He tensed slightly, unsure how the little brat had managed to hit him right where his mother already had in that dream or vision or whatever it was. He frowned at her and got to his feet, looking down at her coldly. She stared back, her eyes hard, absolutely frightened of him but unwilling to back down from him. He could see her hands shaking, but had to admit he admired her courage in the face of her greatest foe.
"Do not speak of such things to me," he snapped, and then sighed. "Fine, if you have a death wish, I want to see the end result of your stupidity, at least."
She sagged in relief, and he went back to where he had bandaged her leg and laid her out, picking up his coat and watching her retreating back as she was ushered away by the annoying little girl servants of Taiitsukun's. He looked at his smudged and dirty coat, not sure what compelled him to kindness toward Miaka at all. He would be lying if he didn't admit that he felt some guilt. He knew that he, Ayuru, hadn't had any choice in what had been done a lifetime ago, but he knew that in some ways, he was not Ayuru anymore. Nor was he Nakago. He had made those decisions, and hadn't. But to the girl, he was the man who manipulated her friend, killed her warriors, and nearly destroyed her world. He did not intend any harm for her, nor did he want to spend time with her. She was an annoying little chit, and her presence reminded him too sharply of all the pain that he, or Nakago, had caused to her.
Too easily she reminded him that when she had been here in the book, she had been a child, and now she was little more. Clearly, whether he was a man who only lately recovered memories from a past life, or whether he was a monster, it didn't matter to her. All she knew was that he was Nakago, and she feared and loathed him. He couldn't exactly blame her, but he seriously doubted his ability to remain neutral in the face of her snottiness and hatred. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew that with extended contact, he would, and thus dreaded this mission. But the damn little brat was right, too, and that irked him like sand in his shoes. He did owe something to this world that he had helped to disrupt, and so he would help her if it killed him.
Miaka stayed the night in Taiitsukun's palace. Nakago preferred to sleep outside. The Suzaku no Miko knew it was just him being stubborn, but it was his business if he froze his butt off outside. They left the next morning, walking in an agreeable silence. Miaka did not wish to speak with him, and he did not wish to speak to her. They agreed, at least, on that.
Miaka trudged behind the former Seiryu Seishi, panting, running to keep up. By noon, she was so exhausted she could barely move. A loud rumble of her stomach alerted him that she was about to drop over.
"I can't walk another step," Miaka wheezed, leaning against a nearby tree. "I'm so hungry, you're starting to look like a good meal."
He turned suddenly and was on her like a beat on prey, and the girl let out a small shriek when she was dropped to the ground beneath him. "What are you doing?" she screamed, his larger frame covering hers. She felt his body over hers, and remembered his touches, remembered that fear, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Shut up for once in your life," he hissed, putting his hand over her mouth.
The girl laid silently, sobbing. She could feel his breath tickling the tiny hairs on her neck, but he wasn't doing anything to her yet. His eyes were closed; he was listening intently to the sounds around them. She realized that he had sensed something and allowed her soft sobs to turn into ragged breaths around his fingers.
Suddenly an arrow whizzed above them, and then more, several hitting the exact spot she had been standing. Her eyes were wide, and her gaze met his piercing blue eyes. How had he known? She hadn't heard anything, or seen anything, for that matter.
She tried to speak around his hand but he glared at her to be quiet, and she did so until she heard the retreating of footsteps. "What was that all about?" she asked shakily as he peeled himself off of her, sitting back over her legs. She was both awestruck that he had been able to sense such a thing, even without his Seishi abilities and feeling distinctly like she needed a bath.
"You're an easy target. And a slow target."
She glared at the comment.
"I told you yesterday that it wasn't likely we would just waltz into Konan, summon Suzaku, and be on our way. They are assassins, sent to kill us. If you want to remain alive, I suggest doing what I tell you."
"Can you get off of me now?" she glowered at him. His body was larger than hers, and uncomfortably heavy. He stood, not offering his hand to help her up.
"So rude," she muttered to irk him, not expecting him to be as chivalrous as her seishi but at least expecting an apology for leaping on her and frightening the crap out of her. After another hour or so of trailing behind him, she stopped. "I don't think I can keep going. I'm not a marathon speed walker like you."
He sighed and looked at the sky. It was barely halfway through the day, she knew, but she was dehydrated and exhausted and hungry.
"We don't have the time to stop. Stopping will only put us at further risk of attack, and I am currently unarmed."
"I really don't think I can go on. I feel nauseated," she wavered and sat down hard on a log, touching her clammy forehead.
"How long since you stopped sweating?"
The girl rubbed her skin, which was hot, but dry. "I hadn't noticed that I wasn't..."
He cursed under his breath and moved toward her quickly. She recoiled slightly when he approached, but he simply stared at her until she allowed him to touch her. When he lifted her into his arms, she glared.
"Put me down! Just let me rest for a few minutes and I'll be fine."
He muttered something else and began to walk. She sat stiffly, knowing struggling would only make him drop her, but she couldn't help squirming in discomfort at the feel of his body so close to hers.
"If you don't stop struggling, I'm going to leave you here to find your own way back to Konan. You were stupid enough to let yourself become dehydrated, and now I have to carry you because you'll probably lose consciousness if I don't. The least you could do is stop moving."
Miaka lowered her head and sat silently. This was a kindness, even if it felt like reliving a nightmare, so she forced herself to sit still.
Night soon fell, and they had reached a border town at least. Nakago somehow managed to get them a room at an inn, though he would not say where the money had come from. Unfortunately, there was only one room left. One room, with one bed.
"I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you," she looked at him incredulously. "Do I really look that stupid?"
"Then sleep on the floor," he shrugged, closing his eyes.
"Why don't you sleep on the floor? I'm the lady here."
"I don't see any ladies," he smirked. She fumed. "Besides, I paid for the room. I'm perfectly willing to share the bed."
"You would be," she muttered clearly enough for him to hear. He lifted one eyebrow at her and she huffed and laid down on the floor, angry that he hadn't even offered a pillow. She knew she was being stubborn in not asking, or just getting over it and joining, but she was not comfortable being near him. This was the man that had tried to rape her, and had fed her best friend all sorts of lies, not to mention killed her Seishi; her friends. She didn't care how he had been reincarnated; he was still Nakago to her. He would always be evil to her. Misgivings aside, she decided to trust that he wouldn't do something to her in her sleep, really only because she could hardly keep her eyes open, and fell asleep on the hard, dirty floor in moments.
Bright rays of sunlight filtered through the open blinds, sending light spots dancing playfully on floor around her. Miaka opened her hazel eyes and stretched. She thought that she had been having a horrible dream, when her senses caused her to sit straight up. She recalled vaguely, through dehydration and exhaustion (despite the nine hours of sleep she'd gotten), that she had gone to bed on the floor, and now she was in bed.
Had she slept so soundly that she didn't notice being moved into the bed?
But perhaps she had sleep-walked, she told herself. That man didn't have a kind bone in his body. Surely he wouldn't have put her in the bed. She thought to her bandaged leg, and wondered.
Something caught her eye. On the night stand there was a pitcher of water and a glass, with a hastily written note that read: "Drink all of this, because I'm not carrying you again." She had the urge to laugh. It was funny. It was so incredibly Nakago, at least the Nakago that she imagined. Self-centered, concerned with his own comfort and cares, only selfless to save himself inconvenience later. She did wonder where he had gone, though.
The girl did as she was instructed, knowing he was right; she did need that much, and probably more, and then washed her face, leaning over the basin in her bra and underwear. She thought that if he walked in at that moment, she may have to commit murder, but he didn't. She emerged from the room, going to the diner downstairs and ordering a small meal.
Actually, the meal probably could have fed a normal person twenty times over, but for her appetite, and considering how starving she had been, it was small. Nakago would probably kill her when he saw the bill.
"Excuse me," the girl asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin in an (she realized) ironically ladylike manner. "Have you seen the tall blonde jerk, I mean the guy I was with?"
"He went out this morning, about five. Said to tell you to wait there, that he would be back later," the owner informed her. "He's a pretty sour guy, isn't he?"
"You can say that again," she muttered. Sour was not the descriptor she would have chosen. "Well, I'm going to go... get some air."
"What about the bill?"
"Put it with the room cost," she shrugged and walked away. She wasn't about to stay couped up in a dirty old inn while he was out doing Suzaku only knew what. It wouldn't be that hard to find him, considering there weren't many six foot three blondes wandering around Konan. She began to walk, taking in the sights.
The town was small and friendly; people smiled as she passed, one man that bumped into her and knocked her over apologized and offered to let her ride his cart to where ever she was going as an apology, which she declined, but it was a nice offer. It was about ten in the morning, and she had been wandering for about twenty minutes when she spotted him. He was standing in front of a market, buying a few items, one of which, she noticed with some amusement, was a canteen. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around.
"I told you to stay at the inn."
"I didn't feel like it," she set her face, challenging him. "Besides, I have to keep an eye on you. I know you hold no love for Konan. We should try to get to the palace," she declared, ignoring the dirty look he shot her for disobeying his orders. She had still been the first and only person to openly defy him. Nobody else dared. "If we get there, we can ask Houki to give us some forces to help us look for the Shinzaho. Plus I want to see Hotohori's son."
He ignored her and began to walk again, and she followed, chattering annoyingly. She didn't have anything to talk about particularly, but she kept nattering just to bother him. She felt like this justice was well deserved. She rattled on and on until a hand clapped over her mouth and she was dragged into an alley, eyes wide.
She was pulled into the alley and screamed as her back hit the hard cobbled wall, but her air was cut off abruptly, leaving her defenseless to her assailer. She couldn't even get the attention of that so-called partner as she was dragged by her throat deeper into the alleyway. She was bashed against the wall again and struggled, kicking out viciously and throwing her elbows up in the air. A man cursed and slapped her face so hard she fell to the ground, and then he was kneeling over her. He slapped her again and she shrieked until he put his hand over her mouth and put the other down her blouse.
She cried out mentally, unable to do anything else, struggling against the hands invading her space, screaming from her throat as loud as possible. The man laughed and licked her face, and she shuddered. He stuck her hand up her skirt, but before he could violate her further something with the speed of a tiger slammed into the man and threw him into the wall opposite them. She heard the sickening crack as the man's head broke against the wall, and she knew that Nakago had found her. She peeled herself up, backing against the wall as hysterical sobs bubbled from her lips. She stood motionless against the brick, tears slipping from her eyes. Her shirt was torn open indecently.
"Are you going to stand there all day?" came the gruff voice from in front of her. She looked up, still unable to move. Tears slipped from her eyes as she stared up at him. Never in her life had she been more happy to see the face of her enemy and she jumped toward him in gratitude and relief, weeping openly.
"Thank you," she cried, burying her face in the soft cloth of his shirtsleeves. He grunted and pushed her away, and she looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide.
"Don't think I have any attachment to you, but if you don't summon Suzaku, I have no way to return to our world."
Her tears dried immediately and hot anger replaced them. She glowered at him. How could he kick her when she was most vulnerable? But then she remembered with whom she was dealing and scowled. "You're the most self-centered, insensitive jerk that ever walked the face of this world, or mine!"
Ignoring her angered rant, he walked on, and angry as she was, she did not leave his side for the rest of the day.
Nakago did not miss the fact that everything in Konan seemed brighter than in Kutou. He had spent most of his life in Kutou, and even as a military leader, which demanded a certain amount of respect, people had never been so kind and cheerful toward him there as the meanest of peasants was here.
He suspected it had something to do with the cheerful girl that followed one step behind him, but it was useful when people offered to help, instead of scurrying off in fear. They had made it to the city limits of the capital because of friendly passersby in a few short hours and now it was dinner time. People bustled about the market, gathering up the last piece of the meal they had forgotten to buy, or that had been spoiled before dinner.
"What is this festival?"
"What?" the girl looked around. "There is no festival."
"There will be once it gets dark," he motioned toward a flier on the wall.
"I wonder what the date is. It could be the Star Festival."
"We may have a problem getting a room at an inn."
"Look at all the people; there are relatives here too," she sighed. "Nobody is going to have room for us. I guess we could just make our way to the palace..."
"We wouldn't get there before dark. Do you think they're going to allow suspicious looking people inside after dark?" he asked curtly.
"Who's suspicious looking?" she grunted.
"We are; we're wearing clothes from another world, and we probably don't look too fresh after wandering around all day."
"We could just knock on some doors and see if anybody has room."
He agreed, and they set to it. She did the talking, of course, but nobody had any room, which was unsurprising to Nakago. Miaka's heart seemed to sink a little more with each politely (or not so politely) worded rejection.
"This is the last house in this area and it's dark out already. I don't really want to sleep outside after those guys with arrows attacked us yesterday... what are we going to do?" she wailed.
"I don't think you want to stay here."
"Why not?" she asked innocently. "It's big, they should have room."
Before he could stop her, she knocked on the door, a big smile plastered on her face. Nakago groaned inside his head and stood behind her, trying to look imposing. After her brush with bandits earlier, he would have thought her more wary of putting herself into the care of strangers, but she was as naïve as he remembered. "Hello! My name is Yuuki Miaka! I'm traveling with my friend here," her smile turned into somewhat of a grimace at having to call him a friend. "And we're looking for a place to stay. Do you have any room? We can pay you."
"What a lovely girl you are," the proprietor, who had the look of greed written all over his ugly face, touched her arm lightly. She pulled away slightly, stepping toward . "You and your brother can surely stay here. You want separate rooms?"
"No," Nakago suddenly stepped forward as usual to rescue the girl from her own naivete. He was perpetually amazed by her ability to walk into disastrous situations. It was a wonder she wasn't dead. "We are not siblings and we would like to share a room."
"Oh, I see. Are you married?"
"Yes."
"Eh?" the girl turned around, confused. He shot her a look that clearly indicated her silence, so she frowned at him and gave him a look that promised there would be consequences later if explanation was not forthcoming.
"Really, you don't act as a couple."
"It's been a long day," he said, stepping closer behind her. He felt her body coil tightly, shoulders drawing in as his wrapped his arms around her from behind. He did not enjoy making her uncomfortable, but it would be safer to play this game than to leave any question.
"Very well, then. We don't usually admit people for the night, but we can make an exception, for such a pretty girl and her lover." The man turned around and led them inside. "I will ask for a normal rate..."
"What are you doing?" she hissed as the tall blonde pushed her along.
"That's fine, I assume you will be wanting the fee now?"
"Of course."
Nakago released the girl, who took a step away from him, shivering all over, looking pale, and handed the man some money. He took her arm again, leading her up some stairs and into a room, and the proprietor closed the door, casting one last sneaky glance at Miaka.
"What the hell was that?" she bellowed, pushing him violently away from herself. "Married? And what was with your hands all over me?"
"Would you rather a room to yourself?"
"Yes! I would."
"Are you quite certain. I don't think you understand the implications entirely."
"Anything is better than sharing a room with you."
"Do you know what this place is?" he pushed her to her butt on the bed, and she crossed her arms. "This is a brothel. If I had let you have your own room, you would have had a few more partners other than your precious Tamahome by tomorrow morning."
A look of confusion crossed her features.
"In other words," he clarified, speaking slowly so that she might understand, for once. "He would have used your services as payment. Your stupidity astounds me."
"Wait... this is a... he would..." a look of disgust came over her delicate features. She looked about ready to hurl. "That's, that's, just disgusting!"
"So from tonight until we leave, you are my wife, and I your husband, and we will act like it, unless you, Suzaku no Miko, are willing to trade my company for the company of several other men tonight."
"No! No..." she shook her head, looking more pale. "My God... no."
"It's late, we should be going to bed."
"Just give me a pillow this time," she stood up and glared sourly, pulling off her jacket and vest, sitting down on the floor. He looked down at her with some amount of pity. He understood her aversion to him, he really did, but the alternative, he thought, would probably be less pleasing to her.
"You can't sleep there."
"What, are you actually going to sacrifice your comfort for someone else? I might have a heart attack," she retorted snappishly, standing up to face him.
He shook his head. The blonde former Shogun could feel the beginnings of a migraine. "More than likely, that man did not believe me when I told him that we were married. He will check, and if he finds you sleeping on the floor, he will be angry that he was deceived, and will want payment..."
"You don't mean... you want me... and you... to share the bed?"
"I didn't kill you in your sleep last night."
"I was also on the floor last night."
"For about ten minutes," he snorted. "You kept groaning in your sleep every time you would clumsily slam your knees or elbows into the hard floor. I put you in the bed, and you're still in one piece, are you not?"
"You," her face reddened, and she wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. "Pervert!" she reached up and slapped him. He scowled at her and caught her wrist to keep her from taking a second swing. "Did you take advantage of me in my sleep?"
The migraine had hit him full force. "Don't be stupid. I have no interest in you that way. Besides, if I were going to, why would I wait until you were asleep? Don't you think I could have overpowered you if I had really wanted to do such a thing?"
The girl stared at him with hatred and a glimmer of fear, and backed away from him.
"I don't pretend to understand what goes on in that insane head of yours," she spat.
"You don't have much choice. It's risk it with me, or risk it on your own, and I'll let you in on a little secret: even if I were going to try something, it would be much better with me than with the scum that would pay for it in a place like this."
He knew that she knew she didn't have much of a choice. If the slimeball came in while she was on the floor, he could drag her away without much of a fight, and then what kind of position would she be in? Anger in her eyes, she stood up and walked past him, climbing onto the bed and scooting to the farthest side, against the wall, taking all the blankets around herself and peering up at him with distrust. He turned the light off, and sat down, unbuttoning his shirt in the dark and hanging it on the bedpost. He unzipped his pants and did the same. She inhaled sharply as his weight joined hers on the bed, and he could feel her shivering beside him.
He took hold of the corner of the blankets, tugging them and throwing them over himself, which peeled them away from her. He left the sheet between them. She whimpered and shrunk away from him. He heard some part of her body slam into the wall and her quick, terrified breaths. Nakago closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Her anxiety was infectious. He turned away from her and then allowed his body to relax. He didn't feel the need to appease her fear, and frankly any attempt would have been useless, but he didn't want to make it worse either, so he tried to relax is body and even his breathing. It wasn't long before her little hiccuping sobs turned into ragged breaths and then into soft, deep breaths. He stared at the door, not sleeping for a long time.