The lamplight in the outer palace was unbearable. His stomach heaved and he could feel cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. It was unimportant. Finding Miaka was all that mattered. He would tell her he was sorry that he had ever pressed his attentions on her. He would school his eyes to conceal the fact that right now he would willingly run Tamahome through. He would be anything she wanted him to be. And then… he didn't really have a plan for the next part, but he would personally ensure her protection. For Miaka, for all his people. Just as soon…

"Hey, where d'you think you're goin' without us? Your Majesty, I mean."

Tasuki. Standing. But that must mean Mitsukake had already used his powers. What about Miaka's injuries? A vision of her bleeding to death on the streets of Rong-Yang seared across his mind. He drew himself to his full six feet, ignoring the apparent dancing of white lights around his head.

"Tasuki, step out of our way this instant. Miaka could be in danger."

"So yer don't trust us all to do our job no more. Is that it?"

"Tasuki, don't you ever speak to His Majesty like that!"

Nuriko? How many more people intended to waylay him?

"Hey, you were the one that suggested this." By the powers, Tasuki's voice went right through him.

"Out of concern for His Majesty. Not to insult him. Are you completely stupid or something?"

Could they not keep their voices down? Hotohori's hand began to tighten around his sword hilt.

"Your Majesty!" Oh, no. Not Chichiri and Chiriko as well.

"Hey, where've you guys been? Where's Mitsukake?"

"I thought he was with you. No da."

"Did…did anyone find Miaka?"

"I thought that's what we were doing now."

Too. Much. Noise. The lamps were throbbing alternately white and red. Nausea was rising to the back of his throat.

"Silence!!"

There was a second of complete darkness and then a thousand swords instantly sliced into his skull. Hotohori doubled over as several hands grabbed him by the wrist. He made no attempt to shake them off; it took all the discipline he had to keep himself from retching. The palace floor suddenly seemed very welcome, if only it would stop swaying like that.

"Your Majesty…"

"I'm fine." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Now let me pass; we have wasted enough time."

"No!" Several voices together.

Another lurch of nausea. He eased himself to the floor and put his back against the wall. "We should not need to remind you to whom you are speaking."

"But… I mean, we are all fellow warriors now, aren't we?" That was Chiriko. "Doesn't that mean that we do things together? I just thought that maybe," the poor lad sounded terrified, "maybe that's why Suzaku chose us. So we could each use our different gifts and, you know, help each other."

"And not take all the responsibility on ourselves," Chichiri added.

The reply Hotohori wanted to make to that couldn't quite force its way past his exhaustion.

"Please, Your Majesty." Nuriko sounded almost choked. "Trust us. We will find Miaka and keep her safe."

"Yeah, an' then we'll pay back the bas- "

"No, Tasuki." Hotohori held up his hand. "Chiriko is right. We are all fellow warriors, Tamahome included. We must help him to come back. We must help each other."

"Does that mean you'll leave this to us?"

He passed a weary hand over his eyes. Would this throbbing never cease? All he wanted was to tell Miaka everything would be all right. Was that too much to ask?

"Very well," he heard himself say. It felt like an utter defeat but he was too tired to argue any more. Already the buzz of voices had begun again: "You go that way, I'll go this way." "Yeah, and find Mitsukake too. What's happened to him?" The pillars began to tilt.

"Your Majesty. I think I can help you now, if you will let me."

Chiriko was kneeling at his feet. And in his hand he was holding…

"You will feel much better, I promise."

Not the flute. Anything but the flute.

Chiriko began to play.