ANI: Disclaimer. Same as always, I own nothing. Well, not nothing, but at least no rights to this.

And...: I'm so sorry for taking so long, guys... it's pretty short, but I swear the action will start soon.


Title: Firebird
Author: seinakyou
Pairings: GakuRin, MikuLen, MikuLuka, KaitoMeiko
Rating: T


Hushed whispers. The silk rustled, and though he couldn't see her face, he knew she was there. There was a creak as the paper divider moved, and then he could see her eyes, at least. He guessed that she couldn't see a thing, and he couldn't see much either, so when she reached out, he had to struggle to find her hand. She flinched a little when his hand first caught hers, but then she felt the calluses and the small cut on the base of his thumb from his training and grasped his hand his enveloping hers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he knew all the words they needed had already been said, so he just closed and, and submitted himself to the silence. Her fingers trailed along his palm, tracing the light lines and mapping the scars until he shivered, the sensitive skin tingling under her light ministrations. She then flipped his hand over and ran her fingertips over the knuckles, then moving down to his wrist, where her fingers whispered over the veins.

She brought his hand up to her cheek, and he relaxed into the touch, finally, a touch. She held his hand there for a moment, leaning into the touch and he awed at the smooth skin on her cheek and hungered to see it as well, to see her face and be with her, and then she moved his palm until his fingers trailed over her lips, and for a brief moment he wanted to just throw propriety aside and kiss her. But she kept his hand moving until the centre of his palm was lined up against her mouth, and there she planted a small, chaste kiss there. He sighed, closing his eyes. Small, delicate finger wrapped around his, and she gently took his hand, hers cool against his own. She pressed his fingers close to his palm, his hand closing into a fist without any resistance. Once his hand was fully closed, she hesitantly withdrew her hand, and in the light of the sunrise, he could swear he saw a small smile flit across her lips.

She looked out to the window, and shook her head. He couldn't see her now, she had slipped behind the curtain once again. Glancing out the window behind him, he saw the sun was rising quickly now. He stood to love, but her hand, pale in the orange light, grabbed his sleeve, and she handed him a note, in hasty but refined writing.

"The cricket croaks on the right side of the pavilion, sheltered in solitude. The warrior comes to free her from her prison of silence, and she shall sing freely and with great joy for him, and him alone."

Exasperated but amused, he shook his head. The language was as cryptic as all her correspondences had been, and yet he no longer minded.

Tomorrow, he though, it all depends on tomorrow.

Because tomorrow, we'll be… I'll be…

Gakupo lurched up from his place on the cot, gasping for breath, and immediately regretted it. He felt sick, and there was a pounding headache pressing against his skull. He groaned, and smoothed back his hair from his face, grimacing as he felt the stickiness of both.

He heard a whisper of a footstep, and then the room, once dark, was suddenly illuminated by a ray of light. He let out a manly squeak of agony before falling back on the mattress and shoving a pillow over his head.

He heard clear laughter ringing out from the window, and suddenly, memories of the night before flashes before his eyes in rapid succession, the colours and sounds and feelings making him feel even more sick, and consequently he removed the pillow and threw up over the side of the bed.

"Not cleaning that up." Said Kaito's wry voice, a tinge of amusement echoing in his voice.

For the first time since his best friend's last birthday, Gakupo felt like punching the man, and probably would have if he could've mustered the strength to haul himself up from his pitiful position on the floor. His mouth tasted like bile, his throat burned, his eyes itched, and his hair was getting in the puddle of vomit.

His hair. He feebly lifted a hand off of the floor and gathered his hair into a reasonable facsimile of a ponytail, resolving to wash it later. However, as he reached towards the table next to his bed for the tie and ornaments he always used, his hand found only solid wood. Frantically, hair now abandoned, he scrambled around the vomit and looked behind the table.

"Gaku..?" Kaito asked from near the window, hands still casually in his pockets even as he pushed off of the wall he was leaning against with his left foot, leaning into a step. "Is something wrong?" he asked, voice cautious.

Gakupo felt like he couldn't breathe. The memories, and the memories of the night before, and the sudden aching loss of something so important weighed down on him, and when he finally shook off the horror and turned to Kaito, the man looked truly worried.

"I…" he began, throat scratchy and not sure what he was trying to say, "I… it's… Kaito!" he looked up to the blue haired soldier with fevered eyes, "Kaito, it's gone!" he finally managed to spit out, before staggering up to a standing position.

Instantly, he was forced to rest his hands on his knees, the sudden change in altitude wreaking havoc on his mental capabilities. His vision faded black, and his head swam. He could feel Kaito's hands guiding him towards the cot and then he was sat down on the bed, and his head gently rested between his knees.

"Calm down," directed Kaito, the man's cool hand against his forehead, "you're still messed up from last night." There was a prolonged pause, then: "That was awesome, by the way, best birthday present ever."

Gakupo, with the last remaining dredges of his consciousness, tried to dredge up anything the man could be referring to, and then, with alarming clarity, he realized what he was talking about.

"Oh." He said flatly, and then he groaned in embarrassment and dismay. "Kaito," he whispered, venom edging into his tone, "I'm never doing that again, so don't even ask."

"But-" Kaito wisely shut his mouth after being cut off by a steely glare from the purple haired man who was now peering at him, eyes practically glowing, from underneath his bangs, and his forelocks were thicker now, too, and it was about this point when Kaito realized what Gakupo had been talking about earlier.

"Gakkun," he began lightly, the nickname causing the hung over samurai to snort, then feebly whimper, "Gakkun, where's your hair…" he made vague motions circling the back of his head, finger waggling for emphasis "… thingies."

Gakupo looked up at the blue haired man, panic hidden beneath calm.

"I don't know." He said, then buried his head in his hands again, "Honestly, I don't have a clue."

Kaito blinked twice. "Oh." Then, more frantically: "Oh, shit, Gakkun, this is bad, those are your-"

The hung over samurai just looked at him sharply, and Kaito changed topic mid-sentence.

"Then, what're we gonna do?" Kaito yelped, running a hand through his hair in agitation, "Shit, Gakkun, you can't even try to show up without those, they'll crucify you!"

A deathly silence spread through the room, and then: "Then I'll find them. Simple as that." He stated flatly, before standing rapidly, ignoring the headache and the nausea.

Robes swirling, he walked out of the room, his loose hair in a curtain behind him.

Kaito stood in the empty room for a moment, before he walked to the window, closing the curtains. Looking around the darkened room, he felt a sudden sense of foreboding. Something is about to change, he thought, shivering, and then he walked out of the room. Pausing, he glanced back into the sparse room from the door way, and then looked down at the items in his hand with a trace of guilt. It's for the best, he reminded himself, and then he pocketed the hair ornaments and closed the door behind him.

Rin blinked the sleep out of her eyes, and then groaned.

"Miku," she hissed at the chipper woman who had just opened her curtains, "it is far too early to be up. Leave me alone." She then proceeded to throw herself under the covers, curling up in a ball.

The tealette snorted, before resting her hands on her hips. "Fine, then. I won't take your laundry, I won't make sure you're not late for your next appointment, and I definitely won't ask if you want anything from the market." She said loftily, before harrumphing and spinning out of the room with a rather smug grin on her face.

3… 2… 1…

She was stopped by a raspy, slightly gravelly voice. "Wait…" it whimpered, and when she turned around she saw that her friend had stuck the top of her head out of covers, though she still very much resembled a turtle, and one hand was feebly outstretched towards the door.

"Yes?" Miku replied patiently, waiting out the blonde's flair for theatricality.

"Could you," the voice whispered softly, though Rin's eyes were glinting feverishly in the morning light, "could you remember to get me some oranges?" she finished hopefully, repentance colouring her tone.

Miku giggled behind her hand. "Of course I will. Now, get up, you lazy slug." She sang, deftly blocking the pillow that came flying at her head.

"I am not a slug." Her friend replied hotly, now sitting Indian style on the bed, hands on her hips and cheeks puffed in outrage. Rin leapt off the bed, then started waving her arms frantically, like an octopus. "See!" she hollered, "See, not a slug!"

"No," Miku agreed amicably, picking up dirty clothing up from off of Rin's floor, "you're not a slug. More like an octopus, now."

Rin stopped, and stamped her foot. "Miku," she whined, "stop it!"

Miku rolled her eyes, and walked out the door. Halfway down the hallway, she yelled back. "Rin! Appointment! Noon! Don't forget!"

Rin stuck her tounge out at her, though the action went entirely unappreciated and unnoticed, then grumbled and set about getting dressed, muttering snide comments under her breath about how she doesn't need mothering, and where Miku should go stick her advice.

But something in the back of her mind was still ringing from her strange encounter last night. She couldn't put her finger on it, but…

Whatever. It didn't matter, she told herself, it's not like I'll ever see him again.

Miku walked out of the door, and in the early morning light the building looked no different from those around it – a covered patio out front, hints of a tea room on the inside and windows spaced out evenly on the wooden wall. But that didn't matter, because it was different. This high class neighbourhood, with its expensive teahouses and fabulous tailor shops, was home to more than a few a shady places. Hers, she decided, was the classiest out of all of them. None of her friends were ever abused, none were allowed to be, and they were all safe, warm happy and well fed. She looked down at the basket in her arms and amended that last statement. They would be well fed, as long as she got to the market on time.

A pink haired girl came rushing out of the door, hair and clothing immaculate and elegant without being overstated.

"Luka!" Miku greeted cheerfully, and waved her over. "Where are you off to, in these awful early hours?"

The girl paused, then wrinkled her nose. "Family meeting, I think. Bound to be loads of fun." Miku nodded in comprehension.

"Well, I guess there's nothing else to be expected." Miku allowed, before snapping her fingers. "Right! I know you got tuna on the list last night, but did you want anything else? I'm about to head off to the market, and…" she trailed off as her friend's eyes brightened. She wasn't sure if she read it right, and anyways it's not like Luka would say it if she was correct, but… "Do you wanna come with me?" She ventured, and was rewarded by a small, but happy smile.

"I'd love to." The pinkette replied regally, but enthusiasm bubbled beneath her tone.

"Right, then!" Miku replied exuberantly. "We'd better go, otherwise all the good stuff will be gone."

As they headed down the road, Miku was struck by a sudden snag in their hastily formed plan. "What about you meeting?" She asked, concern slipping into her voice.

Luka waved it off with her hand, and replied "It's not like they need me there, or anything. It's just business, and I think everyone is good, right?" She turned to Miku, pausing in their walk. "Everyone's okay, aren't they?"

Miku tilted her head to the side and responded solemnly, "Thanks to you, yes. We owe it all to you and your family."

Luka raised her chin a little, and with a born and bred haughtiness peered down at the shorter girl. "Thanks to me," she stressed, "me. They don't care, but, uh, I do." Miku could read the sudden bout of insecurity in the older girl's eyes, and decided to remedy it. She smiled at Luka reassuringly and took her hand in hers, looking straight into her eyes.

"Thank you, Luka." She said sincerely, "for caring, and for everything you've done."

Luka flushed slightly and looked away. "Wh-whatever. Let's just go already." She stuttered, and set off down the road again, the teal haired girl following behind her.

Neither of them noticed they hadn't let go of the other's hand.


Man, I suck at updating. I promise, in my notes the next chapter even says 'PLOT!'

~Seinakyou~