It was early the next morning when Mari woke. Her eyes opened to the first chilly rays of sunlight peeking in through the windows of the inn. Her confused mind was just brushing the last vestiges of dreams from her head when a hand trailed gently over her spine. She stiffened, clutching the sheet to her chest as she bolted upright, twisting to see who lay behind her. Chichiri met her fearful glance. He lay carefully still, waiting for her to calm, whispering into the still morning air. "It's just me."

Mari ran a hand through her hair, releasing a grateful sigh as she smiled at him. Moving back into his waiting arms, she let him gently tuck her under his chin, his fingers playing delicately along her collarbone. Her eyes drifted shut as he explored her bare skin, neither wanting to be the first to break the reverie of their peaceful, companionable silence. "I don't want to go out there." Chichiri finally admitted quietly, barely to himself, let alone to her. "What I did... everything we saw. What happened..." Chichiri lost his words in a deep shuddering breath, pulling her tighter to him, burying his next words in her hair. "I'll die before I let them take you away again."

Mari let the words linger between them, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She sincerely hoped it didn't come to that. She could almost tell herself it wouldn't, but for the image that pressed to her mind of Tasuki, still and bleeding in Su's arms. Nothing could be predicted any longer. For every action that they took, fate lashed back with a reaction. She found she suddenly couldn't consider Chichiri's possible death as another chapter in the book. Not anymore. Not after the way he looked at her, loved her. Not after discovering the way he could touch her; his gentle embraces that smoothed away her pain and fear, chasing away the memories of–

She wouldn't think of that right now, either.

Mari gently twisted in his arms, turning her face up to Chichiri's and catching his lips with her own before whispering over the skin of his cheek. "I won't let that happen, Houjun."

It was a while later when they finally left the room, the sun midway through its climb into the sky. Mari let Chichiri tangle his fingers in her own as they walked through the inn, sleepily letting him guide her to the dining area. "Mae!" Su shot up from the table, striding quickly over to her friend. Mari found herself envying the sparkling armor the girl wore, the clean lines of the clothing, ringing a reminder in her head of the armor Taiitsukun had provided the warriors. It wasn't until her eyes traced down to Su's legs that she noticed something amiss. A dull rust color running over the plate and through the fabric, tinting the colors unpleasantly dark.

Tasuki.

Her eyes darted across the faces at the table frantically, finally coming to rest on the red-haired warrior, a touch more pale than usual, but otherwise not visibly worse for wear. Sitting beside the space Su had just vacated at the table, he was engaged in what appeared to be a supremely low-end battle of the wits with Tamahome. Su followed her friend's eyes, glancing down at her legs with a rueful smile.

"I just thought... I mean, I don't want to forget what I'm fighting for." she ended lamely, a blush creeping over her cheeks. She raised her eyes to Mari, her face shifting to curiosity as she moved to change the subject. "I wonder..." Su stepped delicately toward Mari, slowly reaching out a hand. Chichiri tightened his grip nervously on Mari's left hand as Su approached them. Her head tilted ever so slightly, the barest trace of contained red power glowing along the edges of her irises. Ever so carefully, her hand came forward, gently inching toward Mari's right. She reached forward, their individual powers flaring gently into focus for a moment before fading, allowing Su to triumphantly seize Mari's hand in her own, a breath leaving her lips in excitement as her eyes darted to her friend's face.

Breaking into a broad smile Su moved forward, seizing Mari in tight hug, bouncing up and down with the discovery. "I knew it! I knew it! Now that I've got a better control of my magic, I can keep Suzaku's energy from leaping out to block yours!" Mari patted weakly at the girl's arms, feeling claustrophobic in her intense grip. Finally letting her go, Su stared at her wide-eyed, tears brimming. "I'm sorry. It's just..." she trailed off with a small smile, shaking her head. "But you must be hungry. Here I am gettin' all crazy and you're probably starving!" She moved back to her seat around the table, settling down in her spot next to Tasuki and stealing a spoonful of congee from his bowl as he bickered with Tamahome. She looked so at home, so comfortable among the warriors. Mari remembered her meals with the Seiryuu. Tense affairs filled with courtly politics and silent loathing that made her skin crawl. Tomo's hand creeping on her leg under the table. The way Amiboshi had struggled to not meet her eyes.

Amiboshi.

Chichiri had said he was being held in the ship's brig. Alive and healthy, at least for now. The boy hadn't been eating, refusing to rise from the bed. Chichiri had gone to apologize, not expecting forgiveness, but expecting Amiboshi's still-boiling hate even less. The boy had flown at the bars of the ship, spitting and cursing like a rabid beast, hands reaching for the monk in a bloody-minded rage. Chichiri had not been back, enlisting Nuriko to check in on the boy.

Mari gripped tighter at Chichiri's hand as they moved to sit, sensing it would be a very long trip to Konan indeed.

Three long weeks had passed in the palace of Konan when word came that a ship was sighted on the harbor. Hotohori ran to the window, heart rising in his chest as he saw the flag of Konan proudly waving in the warm evening wind.

Three weeks, long and, well, not so lonely. It wasn't long after the departure of the warrior that the boy Chiriko had been brought to the palace in the hopes that the royal surgeon could help with the lasting sleep the boy had fallen into. The surgeon had immediately alerted the emperor after finding the symbol of Suzaku on the young warrior's body. Hotohori quickly moved the boy into the palace, allowing the surgeon to pursue the strange case wholeheartedly.

There had been some other, more than pleasant, distractions as well. The lady Houki, once of the royal harem, had offered to help the surgeon with the young boy, impressing the emperor with her delicate ways and kind heart. They had talked at the bedside of the youngest warrior as she pressed cool cloths to Chiriko's head, softly singing lullabies as if he was just another sleeping child. Hotohori had to admit that his mind had not been with his priestess this whole time. For the first time since childhood, she had not been the answer to every questioning thought to his future, his kingdom, his heirs. It caused a twinge of guilt, this slight betrayal, but what was it that Su had said? Keep your options open?

Yes, that was it. He was keeping his options open. Breaking his reverie with a small smile, Hotohori turned from the window, calling for the royal palanquin. He would meet the party when they docked.

Mari watched the coastline of Konan come into view on the horizon, appreciating the view with a deep sigh as she let the sea air fill her lungs. When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was back in her world, listening to the surf on a warm summer day. The slow journey had done them all some good, mending bodies and hearts alike as the small party sailed for home. Su and Mari had spent long hours sharing tales of their adventures with each other, their friendship slowly mending with each passing day. By the end of the week, the girls were rarely found far from each other's side.

"What do you think will happen now?" Mari asked Su quietly as her friend came to rest on the railing beside her.

"We find the last shinzaho, I suppose?" Su shrugged, watching as Mari reached for her throat, letting her hand fall away as she remembered that she had given the necklace to Miaka for safe keeping. "And Miaka summons Suzaku." It seemed so simple, laid out like that. The forces of Seiryuu had been severely diminished, and realistically, neither girl could see them being much of a threat from this point on, despite the foreknowledge they had come to this world with.

"And what about us?" Mari cast her gaze away from the railing, letting her eyes sweep the deck to rest on Tasuki. Raising his head to glance at Su, he caught Mari's gaze, holding it for a moment before giving her a small wave and returning to whatever game he was playing with several of the sailors. "Do we go back? To our world?"

"I hadn't thought about that." Su murmured, following Mari's gaze and feeling her heart clench suddenly. For some reason, she never thought about the fact that she might have to leave Tasuki behind. The story had always been about Miaka and Tamahome, of their enduring love. There had never been an end game written for a foreign girl who had suddenly found herself spending long nights with a fiery bandit. "I... I don't know."

"You love him, don't you?" Mari asked quietly, a small smile curling her lips. She didn't need to see Su's face to know the answer. She could almost feel the blush radiating off of her friend.

"Yeah, I guess I do, Suzaku help me." Su laughed, realizing that she had never said it out loud before. It was on her tongue to ask after her friend and the monk. You would have had to be blind to miss the heated glances exchanged between the two. But no, Su decided that perhaps it was better to leave things unsaid. Mari had been through enough in the last several weeks, and whatever comfort the two had found in each other, there was no need to complicate it further.

"Well, we still have time." Mari smiled softly, raising her hand to let it rest on Su's, giving the younger girl's hand a reassuring squeeze. A soft violet light emanated from the contact, and Mari laughed as the magic tickled her skin. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this." Su' laughter caught on the sea breeze.

"Well, we still have time."