Their homecoming had been a joyful, tear filled event. Hotohori had met them on the docks with a retinue of palace guards, watching with an ever-widening smile and great relief as each warrior who had departed Konan several long weeks ago rejoined him once again. Exhausted, but alive and well. One by one, they stepped foot on shore, smiles infectious as they caught sight of his relieved face. Even Mari, who was an unexpected addition to the party, barely gave him pause as she appeared at the top of the gangplank, Chichiri helping her gently down. His unmasked gaze all but dared the emperor to try to tear her from his side. Hotohori merely held his hands out to the couple, easing them to steady ground and embracing her into the kind reception without a second thought.
As eager as he was to hear the tale of their voyage, Hotohori's sharp eyes didn't miss the exhausted slump of their shoulders or the wear and damage to their bodies and armor. While all had returned home, their victory seemed hard-won. With a kind smile, he ushered the party to the awaiting palanquins, making sure that they were all settled comfortably before climbing into his own and allowing the processional to make its way back to the palace.
Midway through their journey, the gently sway of the palanquin lulled Mari into a quiet doze, her head falling to Chichiri's shoulder as the girl's body softened with sleep. He shifted the sleeping woman to a more comfortable position, pillowing her head in his lap as the other passengers hushed their voices, careful not to disturb her. "How can she still be so tired?" Su asked quietly, watching as Chichiri ran his fingers through her hair. She found herself stifling a yawn even as she asked the question, and chuckled quietly to herself.
"We're all kinda tired." Tasuki sighed, leaning back and watching the streets of Konan as they passed by behind the gauzy curtains. "But I think she might have had it a bit worse than the rest of us."
"We'll be able to rest soon enough, once Suzaku is summoned." Chichiri looked at the two, a hopeful smile crossing his unmasked face. He hadn't seen fit to cover it again, leaving the mask in the snow where Mari had dropped it outside the Shrine of Genbu. By now it had been long-buried in the blood and snow on the now distant mountainside. "Once we have the final Shinzaho in our possession, this war will be ended."
"I still can't believe we won." Su whispered, hugging her arms to herself as she recalled the events that should have come to pass. That both she and Mari's presence in this world had changed, seemingly for the better.
'You say that like you thought we were gonna lose." Tasuki scolded her halfheartedly, throwing an arm around her and pulling her to his side. When she remained still, he looked down at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "We were never gonna lose, right?" Su could feel Chichiri and Tasuki's gaze boring into her, and she suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where she was.
"If we weren't here, if we didn't interfere, yes, you would have." Su provided solemnly. She didn't see the harm in speaking of it, not when she could see Nuriko in the safety of the palanquin in front of theirs, combing out his long hair with his fingers and speaking softly with Mitsukake as they approached the palace. "Ashitare... he was supposed to have stolen the shinzaho from Miaka. After a battle for the second in Sairo, Yui would have summoned Seiryuu before you could stop her." She heard Chichiri's sharp intake of breath. Failure was never an option any of the Suzaku had contemplated. She wasn't sure that is was kind to let them know how close they had come to failure, but surely, with fate set on the course it was now, there was no harm in sharing what could have been? "But how can that happen now?" She forced a smile to her lips. "We're all here, standing together against the few remaining Seiryuu warriors. Even on his own, Nakago isn't that powerful! We just need the last shinzaho, and then we can defeat them." She urged, refusing to give up hope. The two warriors regarded each other for a long moment.
"I suppose you're right." Chichiri acquiesced softly. If anything, they deserved a small amount of hope after the trials they had been through.
Mari woke to a soft knock, sitting up in an unfamiliar bed as she stared at the door. She blinked in the low light, for a moment afraid she had woken in her chambers in Kutou once more, the past weeks nothing more than a cruel dream. The knock sounded again, the voice outside calming her instantly as it drifted to her ears.
"Mari? It's Su." Mari's shoulders relaxed her friend appeared from behind the door.
"Come on in." Mari called, sitting up with a sleepy smile as the girl crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, for a minute I forgot where I was.".
"You fell asleep on the way here. Chichiri didn't want to wake you, he brought to his rooms so you could sleep some more. He's with Hotohori and the others now, discussing the plans to collect final Shinzaho."
"How come you're not with them?"
"I was, for a while." Su shrugged casually. "But this is something for them to sort out. Besides, I thought you might like something to wear that actually fit you." Su smiled at Mari, tugging on a too-long shirt sleeve as the older girl rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes. Su had been lending Mari some of her extra clothing for the voyage home, but she was quite a bit taller, and Mari had spent a good deal of time tripping over the hems of her borrowed robes. She dropped the bundle in Mari's lap with a grin. "They were Nuriko's, back when he lived in the royal harems. He said he didn't need them anymore and thought you would like them. You two are about the same size, minus the, uh..."
"Womanly assets?" Mari teased, running the fine silk through her fingers. Su's laughter joined hers.
"Yeah, those. Hurry up, try them on, I wanna see!" Su bounced up and down with excitement, turning away politely to allow her friend a small amount privacy.
"Hold on a second!" Mari laughed, getting up out of bed and slipping off her too big garments in favor of the fine second-hand gown. "Well, what do you think?" she asked hesitantly, worried it was all too much. Su turned around, her eyes going wide as she clapped her hands in excitement.
"Perfect!" Mari smiled as Su grabbed her arm, pulling her from the dim room out into the hallway to wait for the warriors to finish their meeting. Their soft laughter floated down the palace hallways, and for the first time in a long while, the women felt that their terribly strange lives were suddenly approaching something they could dare to call normalcy.
"Then it is agreed. We will next venture to Sairo to obtain the final shinzaho!" Hotohori smiled victoriously at the warriors assembled before him, his heart lighter than it had been since the Miaka first saw fit to appear in their world. The discovery of the true Chiriko had breathed new life into the exhausted warriors, and Mitsukake had left them a short time ago to attend to the boy, vowing to do everything in his power to wake the sleeping warrior. Upon learning that Nakago and a mere handful of his warriors were now all that stood between them and their quest, and finally seeing the shinzaho of the Priestess of Genbu, the brimming war with Kutou felt like nothing more but a bad dream. The assembled warriors nodded, unable to contain the great smiles that broke across their faces.
"We're so close!" Tamahome whispered to Miaka, pulling the girl into his arms and spinning her into the air, her laughter ringing through the room. "In just a short while this will all be over, and we can be together." The priestess let her eyes fall closed, pulling Tamahome into a tight embrace and whispering his name softly. She was lifting herself onto her toes to kiss him sweetly just as an urgent knock sounded through the room.
"Highness!" The guard on the other side of the door threw them wide, the wood clacking harshly against the ornate walls, too distraught to wait for the command to enter. He ran to Hotohori's feet, throwing himself prostrate, head bowed low to the ground. "Forgive me, Highness, I bring urgent news."
"Speak." Hotohori rose to his feet, descending the steps of his dias to stand before the guard. "What has happened?"
"The Kutou army, Highness. We just received word." He gasped for breath, fighting to get his missive out in his panic. "They have burned the capitol Sairo to the ground, and are marching for Konan in full force!"
"What? But how?" Hotohori's eyes grew wide, and he fell heavily to the steps, all hope torn from him in an instant. He surveyed each warrior in turn, reading the defeat there and feeling his heart break as tears sprung to Miaka's eyes. With a great, shuddering breath, he collected himself, drawing himself regally to his full height. "How long until they arrive?"
"With the week." The messenger stammered, eyes wide with fear.
"Then prepare the armies. Konan will go to war!"
The streets of the capitol had burned. He'd made sure of that. The pathetic remaining warriors of Byakko had held on as long as they could, trying in vain to protect the relic of their dearly departed priestess. They had even foolishly dared to tell him 'no'. He had laughed in their ancient faces, Ashitare pouncing on that fool Tokaki, the stupid man fighting for his wife. Nakago forced her to put her powers to use on Tomo, bringing the psychotic warrior back to gasping, weeping life. It had drained her power, and the old woman had fallen away from Nakago's hand, a husk of what she had once been. Tokaki had thrown himself even more frantically at the wolf-man then, succeeding only in finding a bloody death at the creature's claws.
Tatara had not been an easy kill, outright refusing to give the Shinzaho to the general. He silently endured the mental and physical rites they had put him through; a peaceful look of acceptance on his face. A wave of rage had ultimately forced Nakago to run him through, the man giving up the ghost as if he had been waiting for the sword. As Tatara had gasped a dying apology to Suzuno, the tiny mirror had revealed itself, glowing white in the hand of the fallen warrior while his blood cooled around him.
From there, it had been simple. Nakago allowed the Kutou army to do what came naturally to them. Released onto the city, they ripped it apart as locusts from a plague. Chaos reigned as the men looted homes, destroyed buildings, humiliating the peasants as they bound them to each other in long lines, future slaves to the city of Kutou. As they rode for Konan, the crippled city crumbling at their backs, Nakago lifted a single hand, the smallest of fires starting in the center of the town. Building, spreading, consuming all in its path as it devoured the bodies of the last Byakko warriors, stiffened and contorted in their painful deaths. Not the deaths of warriors, but the deaths of cowards. And their grave would be that of a pauper.
It satisfied him, and they rode on. After all, he had a promise to keep to the Lady Mari.