...
XLIV
A second summoning
...
Someone was shaking her shoulder.
Miaka moaned against the pain in her head and refused to open her eyes. "Go away," she murmured drowsily. A warm presence was at her back, unexpected but not unwelcome. Instinctively she drew toward the source of the warmth, pulling herself farther under the covers.
"Suzaku no Miko," said Nakago's voice behind her. "Surely you are aware that this is hardly the time or place for such conduct."
Later, Miaka would affirm (persistently and with great vehemence) that she had not spent the next two seconds in a state of sheer and total panic.
She had not shrieked like a little child confronted with a spider, or cursed louder and more inventively than Tasuki confronted with a horse.
She had not tried to leap out of bed, arms flailing wildly, heart galloping faster than a stampeding herd of wildebeests.
She had certainly not come close to taking Nakago's eye out as she began to tumble backwards off the mattress, red-faced and tangled in bed sheets.
Really, whatever actually happened in the space of those two seconds was a moot point. Because at the end of that interval, Miaka was in the same place she had started: back on the bed, face-to-face with Nakago. Her right wrist sported mild bruises, from where Nakago had grasped it to save her from the fall that might or might not have just almost happened. Miaka – head still pounding, hair tousled, eyes accusing – stared at Nakago, feeling thoroughly bewildered, but certain that whatever was going on was entirely his fault.
"What the hell is going on?"
Nakago was finding this whole situation and the miko's reaction amusing. It was almost as entertaining as the time Shijintenchisho Tomo had found himself cornered by a party of militant fangirls with painted masks in an inn outside Seisen. It was only fair after what the miko had put him through the day before, and he lost no time in taking advantage of this unprecedented opportunity. He reached toward her, pulling her close, and whispered:
"My dear miko. You do have a poor memory." His voice, like a caress against her cheek, caused Miaka to gulp and catch her breath. "You were not nearly so shy last night."
Miaka felt the color drain from her face. Everything that had transpired the previous night was a blur in her mind, indistinct as though obscured by a dense fog. Nakago's proximity to her was not helping matters. Her hand was on his chest, and she suddenly realized that she could feel his heartbeat beneath the scant fabric that separated her palm from his skin. She snatched her hand away, heart racing, and tried to pull herself as far away from him as she could. He held her, not quite firmly enough to hurt, but with strong enough grip that she couldn't pull away.
"Do you remember nothing?" said Nakago, chuckling. He was so close that Miaka could feel his breath tickling her cheek. The sensation filled her with a combination of panic and –
And what? Desire?
The instant that thought took root in her head, other thoughts sprang to join it, bursting into existence like unfurling snowdrops. She was suddenly, violently attuned to the fact that she was pressed up in what might – in any other situation – have been considered a very intimate fashion, against someone who was very male –
As fast as the thought flashed through her mind, Miaka rebelled against it. She valued personal traits like kindness, generosity, and integrity, and all the physical attributes in the world could not override the fact that (by her current calculation) Nakago's kindness quotient lay somewhere in the negative range – not to mention that he had an emotional capacity roughly equal to that of a banana.
So the errant flame was sent off to cower in a dusty, unused corner of her mind, and Miaka regained control of her somewhat watery limbs. She took advantage of this new development to shove Nakago as hard in the chest as she could. "Get away from me!" she hissed.
With her newfound clarity of thought, she tried to salvage what memories she could of the previous night. Pieces and fragments of last night's drama were beginning to filter back, arousing in her a mixture of embarrassment and relief. Slowly, the blood returned to her face. This had the effect of bringing a soft flush to her cheeks, but at least she no longer felt like the bottom had dropped out from beneath her.
Her eyes flashed as she looked at Nakago, confronting him with a glare that would have looked far more appropriate on a king cobra than it did on Miaka. Given the magnitude of her headache, she felt very proud of this accomplishment. "I might have been drunk," she said through gritted teeth, "But I wasn't that drunk."
Nakago still looked entirely too amused for Miaka's comfort. (She was sure he was deriving immense pleasure from her humiliation – indeed, she suspected that this his perverse idea of revenge for the events of yesterday).
"You were sufficiently drunk to beg physical comfort from a sworn enemy, in full view – might I add – of a host of onlookers."
"You're not my –" But Miaka broke off, flushing dark red, as the memory of that moment – and a few others, perhaps more humiliating – swam to the front of her mind. It had not been her best night. She distinctly recalled having trouble with words, and there was one memory, toward the end of the night, that bore uncomfortable resemblance to voluntary physical contact. Miaka opened her mouth in retort, not really sure what she was going to say, but anything at this point was better than no words at all – but before any words could even begin escape her lips, she was interrupted.
By a sound at the door.
Murphy's law states that whatever can go wrong in any possible situation actually does go wrong, because the universe is perverse and disobliging and enjoys messing with our heads. Of course, this is not actually the case, but what is true is that the human brain has a tendency to remember negative events much better than positive ones, perhaps giving rise to the impression that the universe's attitude toward humanity is a resounding 'f*** you.'
Since today was decidedly not Miaka's day, her memory processing centers were already on overdrive, busily forming new memories associated with the negative emotions of shock, humiliation, panic, and confusion.
So, when the door opened and Tasuki stepped in, Miaka's neurons catalogued every detail, from the sound the door made as it swung on greasy hinges, to the sight of Tasuki, whose sunlit hair brought to mind an untamed inferno. In the future, Miaka would always recall the precise look of shock and bewilderment that swept across his face as his eyes swept across the two of them – from Miaka, fully clothed, but still tangled in bed sheets, to Nakago, cool and amused and thoroughly unperturbed behind her.
"Tasuki?" she said, almost guiltily, and then she realized what his presence meant, and her face brightened perceptibly. "Tasuki!"
"Is the simple decency of knocking beyond the scope of your comprehension, bandit?" Nakago asked lazily.
"You," said Tasuki, who seemed only capable of small words at the moment. "And her. And a bed."
Tasuki was not sure what was going on, but he was very sure that 1) there was no possible innocent explanation for finding Nakago and Miaka in the same bed; 2) if anything had happened last night, then Miaka was thoroughly innocent of any wrongdoing; 3) Nakago was a depraved bastard with a history of malice toward the servants of Suzaku, which meant that Nakago had probably done something to her, so 4) Nakago deserved to die.
With his tessen, Tasuki could have burned Nakago to a crisp then and there. But Tasuki did not have his tessen. He might have tried Plan B, which basically consisted of attempting to punch Nakago in the face – (subtlety was not Tasuki's strong point) – but to do that, he would have to get past Miaka, who finally seemed to have noticed the rage that was spreading across the bandit's face.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding –" she began.
"The only misunderstanding –" Tasuki swallowed. "The only misunderstanding there's been is him thinkin' he's gonna live after what he's done ter ye!"
"It's not like that at all!"
"I think it's pretty obvious what's going on," said Tasuki, glowering. "Get away from the bed, Miaka, an' let me deal with him –"
"Dear, dear, do I detect a trace of jealousy in your voice?"
Nakago's voice cut through the air like a dagger slicing through lard.
Well, Miaka thought, as Tasuki's face turned even redder – isn't this a delightfully awkward turn of events? And it wasn't even fair, because they hadn't even done anything – and to top it off, somehow in the midst of her earlier panicked fall and Nakago's quick save her right leg had become entangled in the sheet of the bed, and she was having an enormous amount of difficulty extricating herself.
"Jealousy," Tasuki repeated, his voice growing steadily rougher. "And what, exactly, do you suppose me ter be jealous of, you #$&*ing #$*&)#ing son of a &*#)$#*$ing #$#^#$ who smelt of #$^# and whose father %^$ed a !$%#%ing *^##!% while #%#%ing with a toothbrush–"
It was in the middle of this tirade that Nuriko entered the room. More aptly, she glided into the room on a gust of silk and perfume, fanning herself with delicate grace.
"I see you've found them, Tasuki. Excellent job. My, my." She covered her mouth with her fan to conceal a smile. "What have we here?"
"Nothing!" said Miaka quickly, not liking the delighted gleam in Nuriko's eyes at all. "Nothing!" Miaka repeated, finally managing to tear herself free of the covers and landing, with a triumphant thud, on the floor. "Absolutely nothing; nothing of any interest whatsoever –"
"Why," said Nakago, in the patient, almost indulgent tones of one speaking to a particularly slow-witted child. "I certainly wouldn't call last night nothing. My dear miko, there is no need to be shy –"
The sound grated over Miaka's ears. She wanted to slap Nakago. Negative points for chivalry! she thought furiously; he'll be approaching minus infinity soon! How she had even felt the barest glimmer of attraction to him earlier was beyond imagination.
"Well, well," said Nuriko, smirking a little as she reached over and began prying open the fingers Tasuki had been slowly clenching into fists. "Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, Tasuki. Why –" (And she lowered her voice conspiratorially) "– I really think that this is quite a positive development. Don't you see? I take it a as good sign, a sign that Miaka is moving past her former misery. Though I had hoped she might choose Amiboshi as the object of her affections–"
"I HAVE NOT CHOSEN ANYBODY AS THE OBJECT OF MY AFFECTIONS!"
Miaka stopped, breathing hard, suddenly realizing that all eyes were upon her. Her face was as red as a ripe tomato.
She wanted to burrow back into the bed. She really wanted to pull the covers over her head, turtle-style, and stay there forever, at least until everyone – especially Nakago – left the room. Except that really wasn't an option, because they wouldn't leave – just continue to garner amusement at her expense. What was she, some kind of comic relief, doomed to provide unending amusement for all the bored, and/or perverted souls who happened to cross her path?
But there was one person who looked decidedly un-amused by the proceedings. Tasuki still looked ready to hit somebody. Miaka decided, for once, that she understood just how he felt.
So Miaka suppressed her desire to imitate the nearest lake-dwelling terrapin and crossed the room to join Tasuki. Then she managed somehow to glare at Nuriko and Nakago simultaneously – which was quite a feat since they were on opposite sides of the room. She punctuated the glare with a pointed clearing of the throat.
"Out," she said.
"What?" said Nuriko, obviously taken aback.
"Please, Nuriko." And she sent a begging look in the other woman's direction. "I'll talk to you later."
Nuriko shrugged and then sashayed out with an unconcerned wink. Miaka turned to the next – and far more difficult – evictee.
"You too." She glared at Nakago, who was reclining on the bed, eyes closed, the picture of perfect boredom. "Get out."
At this, he did open one eye. "Why, miko," he said, "You wound me. Is that any way to treat the man who is helping you move past your former misery?"
"The only moving that's going to be done," said Miaka, breathing hard, "is you. Moving out. Of this room. Right now."
There was a pause. Miaka could see Tasuki's eyes narrowing further. She swallowed. "Did I make myself clear?"
"I would think you would treat the object of your affections with more respect," he said, after a moment, and before she could snarl that he was far too disagreeable to be the object of anyone's affections – and certainly not hers – he added, "particularly given that said object of your affections is the new ruler of Kutou, to whom you have bound yourself for the foreseeable future."
"WHAT?"
Miaka winced against the sound of Tasuki's shout. Oops. Chalk up another item on the list of things she would have to explain to Tasuki later.
Miaka felt her headache intensify perceptibly.
She drew in a deep breath.
"I don't care if you're the new ruler of Kutou, or the four kingdoms, or – gods forbid – Mount Taikyoku, that does not give you any right to be a thorough and utter jerk, and if you know what's good for you, you will GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
Nakago caught the red ball of chi easily in his hand and neutralized it. "I do so love your temper," he said, and in a fluid motion he was beside her, catching her arm as she tried to slap him, leaned down, very close to her ear.
"We shall continue where we left off later."
The words were spoken in an intimate yet audible murmur. They carried with them the sound of a promise, and they were almost certainly intended for Tasuki's benefit. Miaka knew Tasuki heard the words, because she heard him give a low growl, somewhere deep in his throat.
Nakago swept past them but paused at the door, nose wrinkling ever-so-slightly.
"I do believe," he said softly, as the other two stood frozen, "that your pet is in need of a bath. And, while you're at it, you might want to try cleaning his mouth out – with a considerable quantity of soap."
Chuckling quietly, he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.
For a moment, all was silence. Then Miaka sent a ball of chi crashing toward the door, creating a hole the size of a small breadbox in the wood scaffold. She immediately regretted the action. Not only did it have absolutely no effect on Nakago, but it also meant damaging a perfectly good oak door, which she would have to pay for later.
Perhaps she could force Nakago to front the bill.
She was, after all, 'bound to him for the foreseeable future,' as he had so kindly reminded her.
"I hate him," Miaka muttered, "so much right now."
"I can kill him for you," Tasuki said.
It would have been funny, except Miaka knew that Tasuki was deadly serious, that when Tasuki said he would kill Nakago, he meant it, thoroughly and unswervingly and absolutely. Without a shred of doubt, Tasuki would try to obliterate Nakago from the face of the earth, if she so much as inclined her head.
That frightened her. Nakago was not an opponent to be challenged lightly – and Miaka had cause to believe that Nakago despised Tasuki already. Without his powers, there was a decent possibility that Tasuki would end up a heap of ash on the floor of the inn should he attempt to take on Nakago.
Miaka placed a hand on Tasuki's shoulder. as though that would suffice to hold him a place. "Please," she said, "don't. He hasn't done anything quite horrible enough to die for."
"Yeah?" said Tasuki. "What about when he murdered Saihetei and abused ye at Hokkan?"
"I mean he's done horrible things, but –" Miaka broke off. "Not recently. Not – not in this world."
Tasuki experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was somewhat similar to the feeling you would get if you were faced with a fluffy kitten, and you suddenly discovered that that fluffy kitten had the beginnings of a mane and a tufted tail and was not a kitten at all, but a lion cub with claws the size of toothpicks. He straightened and stared at Miaka, who stared back at him bemusedly.
"Ye're defending him," he said.
Well, thought Miaka, that was one way to put it. Though really, at the moment, she was not defending her enemy so much as trying to save her somewhat mule-headed friend from a bloody and thoroughly unnecessary death.
But when she actually thought about it, weren't her words somewhat justified? Nakago really was an entirely different person from the man who had manipulated her best friend, toyed with the Suzaku seishi like they were chips on a board game, and steeped her life in utter misery for the better part of a month. He was helping them on this quest. Granted, he was doing so for somewhat perverse, selfish reasons that only he seemed to fully understand – and yet. And yet.
Tasuki saw the change in her expression and felt his stomach sink further. The fluffy kitten seemed to be morphing into something that was not a lion cub at all, but a dragon with giant fangs that could do considerable damage to your house if left unattended.
"You really think he's changed?" he asked, disbelief making his voice rise.
Miaka blinked. "Yes. I do, actually. You've changed, haven't you?"
"I certainly have not!"
"Tasuki," she said patiently. "You don't even remember who I am, half the time."
"I'm still," he said, "exactly the same person I was in the Shijintenchisho."
Well, your stubbornness hasn't been done any favors. As soon as the thought flickered through her mind, Miaka could almost hear Nakago's laughter, could almost envision his reply: Well, well, what pot is calling the kettle black now?
Get out of my head! she thought, with some verve. It was a sign that she had been traveling with Nakago for too long, Miaka decided, that she could actually imagine Nakago critiquing her thoughts.
"What about me?" she asked Tasuki brightly. "Am I the same as I was in the Shijintenchisho?"
"Of course ye're –"
He broke off, staring at her. The silence stretched. Then he drew a breath, and she could see the corners of his eyes narrowing. "He's changed you," he said.
Miaka glanced up quickly. She ought to have expected Tasuki to say that.
She opened her lips to change the subject to something less dangerous. She knew better than to let Tasuki's start down this track; to do so would get him riled again, and that was the last thing she wanted right now. But a part of her was curious; she wanted to know just how much she had changed. And so she asked:
"What do you mean?"
It was Tasuki's turn to be flustered. Flustered for Tasuki involved reddening around the ears and lots of swearing. It was almost adorable. Had Miaka's morning not been so trying, she might have smiled. Instead, she waited.
"Hell," said Tasuki at last. "You're just – Hell!" He spluttered a little. "Ye were sleeping with Nakago!"
"WE WERE NOT SLEEPING TOGETHER!"
Miaka took a huge breath, begging any unsealed deities who heard her to quell the flaming of her cheeks (which was not helping matters). "I mean," she said, "we were in the same bed, obviously, but it was perfectly innocent. Like siblings. And I'm sure there was a perfectly good reason for it – There were probably just not enough beds at the inn – or something –" (Why had Nakago been in her bed? She ought to have asked him that question!)
Tasuki opened and closed his mouth. Miaka had changed; his image of her pre- and post-Kutou-self was so wildly different that it seemed impossible that she had not changed – and yet, as is often the case with subtle alterations in personality, he was finding it very hard to put words to the difference. Perhaps what Tasuki was reacting to was maturity. Certainly, Miaka had matured considerably since Tamahome's death. She carried herself differently, and more and more frequently displayed that sort of self-possession that borders on competence – not that anyone who was long in Miaka's company could mistake her for being a competent human being just yet.
She was, in other words, well on her way to becoming an adult.
Tasuki, who had spent all his life doing his best not to fall into the trap of becoming a competent adult (while somehow maintaining excellent leadership of a group of bandits in a manner entirely reminiscent of a feudal era Peter Pan) instinctively recognized Miaka's maturity and recoiled from it. The changes he saw in Miaka, he concluded, were entirely Nakago's fault. It did not help that Miaka's gestures and mannerisms and modes of speech were beginning to bear slight resemblance to Nakago's – not unsurprising, since when two people are around each other for prolonged time periods, there is typically some assimilation of each other's traits. But Tasuki saw how Miaka's gestures and speech patterns were changing to match Nakago's and extrapolated (wrongly) from these observations. He concluded that the similarities between Miaka and Nakago's speech patterns were a symptom of a broader disease. Nakago was corrupting her.
So he drew in a breath and said, with as much dignity as he could muster:
"Fact remains, ye're an entirely different person since meeting him. Even Mitsukake noticed. Ye're doing magic an' blowin' holes in things. An' he said something about how ye bound yourself to him –"
"Yes, that was the side effect of a promise I made to somebody on their deathbed. It's kind of a long story. And I always had powers, Tasuki, even back when you first met me –"
"But not like this!" said Tasuki, thinking of the red light that had burned a sizeable hole in the door just now – and then back, back to the even-more-powerful blast that had obliterated half of a cliff-face two weeks ago.
"I always had the ability. I just never learned to use it until now." Miaka smiled, though the expression held traces of regret. "If training my powers means that I can save the people I care about, then why should I shy away from it?"
Tasuki glowered, frustrated. She wasn't getting it, the fact that Nakago was incontrovertibly evil, that he was slowly and effectively corrupting her, that teaching her how to use her powers was only the first step in Nakago's manipulative and complicated plot to dominate the universe, in which they were all merely amusing and dispensable pawns, and that – at the end of the day – saving people was probably the last thing on that bastard seishi's mind. Had Miaka forgotten Hotohori? Had she forgotten Yui?
The kitten-turned-dragon was growling. Possibly it had suddenly sprouted three heads.
Miaka, who was completely unaware of the thoughts floating through Tasuki's brain, but who would not have been surprised by them had she known, let out a faint sigh. The problem, Miaka thought, was that Tasuki inhabited an unchanging world. His life was one of simple alliances and simple rules, where the law of the land was your own heart and your own strength, and people were constant and unswerving.
"People change, Tasuki," she said. "A lot has happened since we left the Shijintenchisho. You were there when the – when the fire happened – you saw. And since then, I've been on the run, trying to avoid the scheming of a mad lord of the underworld who's trying his best to off me." She smiled sadly. "Of course I'm different."
But Nakago! thought Tasuki. Ye say all of those things changed yeh, but it's really because of Nakago that ye're so different!
There are certain people who find it very hard to let go of an idea once they have seized upon it; they tend to run their clever thought over and over in their heads until the idea takes on an aura that is more fact than hypothesis. Those incidents which confirm their idea are noticed, and events that contradict their idea are swept to a distant corner of the mind, carefully and tidily out of the way so they won't be troublesome. Such is the nature of confirmation bias.
Tasuki, unfortunately, was one of those people. He had seen seized upon the idea that Nakago was Very Bad News, that he was slowly corrupting his, Tasuki's, beloved miko. It would take more than a few words from Miaka to change his mind.
But he could see, by the expression on Miaka's face, that she was growing tired of the conversation. It was something he really didn't want to see – his worst nightmare, really: Miaka's look of disappointment, directed his way.
He would just have to find some other way to deal with Nakago. Something that didn't involve Miaka.
"All right," he said. "As long as ye don't start chuckin' chi balls at me, I'm good with it."
Relief swept across Miaka's face. "Really?" she said.
"Really." It was almost worth lying to see Miaka so happy.
Miaka almost sagged with relief. She didn't like seeing disapproval on the faces of her friends any more than Tasuki relished seeing disapproval on her face – and Tasuki was one of the Suzaku seishi with whom she was closest. Tasuki was Tasuki, always ready for mischief, always fun-loving and full of heart. "Great!" she said, almost beaming. "Well. You haven't told me what happened after you left Souen, you know."
And she linked arms with Tasuki and together they started toward the hallway.
-v-
Souen, it transpired, had fallen entirely to the demons. What villagers were capable of traveling had come with Tasuki and Chichiri to Eiyou to plead for help; the rest remained behind with Mitsukake and Shouka, hiding out in the mountains, concealing themselves as best they could. And the demons were slowly advancing on Eiyou.
Which was Very Bad News indeed.
Tasuki and Chichiri and the villagers had arrived in Eiyou the previous night, and the two of them had already met with Hotohori. This was something of a relief to Miaka, who realized she would not have to bring Tasuki up to speed with what had transpired in his absence, since Nuriko and Hotohori had clearly already taken turns filling him in. Although it seemed that the rulers of Konan had left out a couple key details in their story – such as Miaka's promise to accompany Nakago to Kutou.
Probably they had done this intentionally. Enraged!Tasuki, as Miaka had discovered that morning, was not especially fun to deal with.
Particularly when one was still recovering from dipping a little too heavily into one's cups the previous day.
She rubbed her still-aching head and glared at Nuriko as she slurped the remains of her porridge. She had felt considerable embarrassment when she had arrived in the dining hall to find everyone staring at her. And everyone really was almost everyone; Nakago, Nuriko, Subaru, Tokaki, Suboshi, Amiboshi, and Kaen were all seated or standing around the small dining room, giving it a decidedly claustrophobic air.
All traces of small talk died abruptly upon Miaka's and Tasuki's entrance to the hall. Miaka had had the sinking suspicion that they had all been discussing her. And that suspicion was confirmed by the glance Subaru sent her as Miaka went to the front to dish up some porridge that the older woman was stirring. Really, Miaka thought glumly, nothing could be more humiliating than being on the receiving end of a "knowing" wink from a 120-year-old Byakko seishi.
All this meant that Miaka was in decidedly grim spirits as she slurped her porridge. But her spirits reversed very quickly. Because as soon as Miaka had eaten and drunk enough so as to no longer resemble a rampaging hyena, Nuriko wasted no time in informing her that they had collected all of the holy objects and all of the seishi and were ready to summon the gods. Immediately.
Wait. What?
"… What?" Miaka managed to ask between coughs. Her porridge had gone down the wrong pipe a second before.
"I thought you'd be pleased," Nuriko said smugly. "Let me repeat that, statement, shall I, for the sake of everyone here. We now have all the holy objects and we have all the seishi. I'll go through them one by one. First, the artifacts. Miaka has the mirror that's needed to summon Byakko. Lord Kazuhiko gave it to her willingly. She took it with her into the city; I assume you still have it on your person…?"
"Yes," Miaka said dazedly. "Well, it's back in my room."
"Nakago acquired Lord Sadao's necklace – which we need to summon Genbu – using methods that are probably best not discussed in public." Nuriko turned towards Nakago, all business. "Do you –"
Nakago lifted the necklace, which was, Miaka noted with a funny jolt, around his neck.
"Good. I've brought Saihitei's sword with me – the sword of Konan." She pointed to the scabbard at her belt. "And Amiboshi stopped by Miaka's room in the palace and picked up the scepter of Kutou on the way out – in addition to Miaka's luggage.
"Now, for the seishi. Subaru has been chosen to represent Byakko. I'm the Suzaku seishi. Nakago, you already know about. And Amiboshi's going to be functioning in the place of the missing Genbu seishi, since they're all dead –"
"Hang on." Miaka felt it necessary to interrupt at this point. "Amiboshi's a Seiryuu seishi. Is it even legal for him to substitute for a Genbu seishi?"
"Desperate times," Nuriko said dramatically, "Call for desperate measures."
Miaka looked at Amiboshi.
"It's really all right," said Amiboshi. "I've been in Hokkan so long, Taiitsukun said there would be no problem using me as a substitute."
Taiitsukun really must be pretty desperate at this point. Miaka caught the worried expression that flashed across Subaru's face and wondered if the Byakko seishi was thinking exactly the same thing that she was. If Nakago only had a week and a half to live, and they needed Nakago, then it made sense that Taiitsukun would help them find shortcuts.
Or else Amiboshi could be playing them false again.
But she didn't really believe that; the look on Amiboshi's face showed that he was in earnest. And there was absolutely no reason for him to be lying. Last time, he had pretended to be a Suzaku seishi as part of Nakago's plan to foil the summoning of Suzaku. Miaka would never, in a hundred years, imagine Amiboshi willingly ally himself with Tenkou.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Nuriko's voice, exuberant, vivacious, called Miaka back from her dreary reverie. "Let's get to it!" And, when Miaka continued to stare at her blankly, she sighed and said, in tones of one who is trying, and failing, to be patient with someone particularly slow:
"The gods aren't going to summon themselves, you know!"
At this, Miaka's lower jaw actually did drop a little.
"We're summoning the gods right now? Here?"
Not that Miaka didn't want to summon the gods; she wanted to complete the summoning ceremony almost as much as she had ever wanted anything in her life. But now that the possibility of the ceremony was actually upon her, it all seemed so awfully sudden. She felt a sudden surge of terror, quite unrelated to the potential danger associated with the ceremony. She wasn't sure she was ready to summon the gods. Apart from some vague idea about sealing Tenkou and saving the world, Miaka still had no idea what she was going to wish for. And she had the mistakes from the last summoning to remind her how important it was that she wished for the right thing!
And, quite apart from her lack of preparation, it also felt irreverent, somehow, to hold a summoning in the dusty early-morning gloom of the inn. But Nuriko seemed supremely unconcerned by the paucity of their surroundings.
"It's not like you can safely go back to the castle," she said practically, "and Suzaku's temple doesn't even exist in this world; and anyway, the innkeeper's not awake yet. He won't notice."
This was true; it was still quite early, and Hisao, who was quite often drunk, did tend to rise rather late. And, really, they had no time to lose, if the demons were truly marching on Eiyou.
Amiboshi, who seemed to have the best grasp on what sorts of thoughts were going through Miaka's mind at that moment, looked at her and said quietly:
"You don't have to make all your wishes right after the summoning, you know."
That was true. Miaka felt suddenly lighter. She nodded grimly. "All right," she said, determination filling her voice. "Let's do this!"
Still, she could not help but glance at Nakago, wondering if he had something to say about all this – half-expecting some kind of derisive remark that would throw cold water on this plan. She was almost tempted to ask him whether this was the right thing to do. He, out of all of the seishi present, seemed to be the one who most commonly had the answers.
But his face was carefully neutral. It seemed, in this instance, he didn't know the correct course of action any better than she did. Or, if he did doubt that this plan was the correct one, he wasn't saying anything. Which wasn't necessarily an endorsement, but did make Miaka feel a little better.
She ran back to the bedroom to fetch the mirror. When she returned, she saw that her seishi were pushing the chairs out of the way, stacking them carefully against the wall toward the back of the room. The tables met the same fate. Miaka really hoped that nobody else in the inn was awake at this hour; they would have a decidedly uncomfortable time of explaining their actions to curious bystanders.
When they were done, they stood in a circle – Amiboshi, Nuriko, Nakago, and Subaru, with Miaka at the center. Miaka wondered if she ought to suggest that they take hands, and then thought that might be pushing it.
"Do you remember the words?" said Nakago.
Miaka felt a moment of panic. For a horrible second, the first words of the summoning incantation hovered, just out of reach, at the edge of her mind. She had memorized it so long ago.
The moment passed. She found the first word, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, and dredged it out. The remaining words followed smoothly, to her relief. It was like riding a bike, she thought: once you've learned to summon a god, you don't ever forget.
The four palaces of the heavens
The four corners of earth
In the name of sacred law, faith, and virtue
I summon thee…
When it came time to say the name of the god, she hesitated, then listed the four of them. Seiryuu, guardian of Kutou to the East. Byakko, guardian of Sairou to the West. Genbu, guardian of Hokkan to the North. And finally: Suzaku, guardian of Konan to the South. And then the rest of the words, flowing over her tongue like honey, until the last line, the final sentence:
Descend to us from the heavens above.
Miaka waited. Mist appeared in the center of the room. At first a curl, it expanded, becoming a puff, and then a thick cloud. Miaka's heart was beating so hard and fast, she was sure the others could hear it. Her breath caught in her throat as though to choke her.
The cloud burst. A hideous face appeared, the stuff of nightmares.
"You IDIOT!" said Taiitsukun.
Miaka's heart sank.
That couldn't be good.
Author's note: Yup, they screwed up… WOMP WOMP WOMP.
This was a very silly chapter. I think I've been reading too much Neil Gaiman. Someday I'll learn to monitor my writing style so that I DON'T try to imitate the mood of whatever work of fiction I've been reading recently, but until that day comes, expect a lot of tone switches as I try to find a writing style that works…
I'd like to thank Nile1283, SakuraGekido'Ikata-Chan, Desert Renaissance, tohru78, and Helena for your reviews for the last chapter! Also SakuraGekido'Ikata-Chan gets a cookie for being the 300th reviewer! Yay! You guys make me so happy!
-v-
Questions from you:
I really think you should update sooner!
The more reviews I get, the faster I'll update! (Note: certain restrictions apply. See package insert for details.)
Keisuke appeared a bit too much like an over-adoring father figure like Tamaki Suoh from Ouran Host Club. I also did interpret him as a bit effeminate for some reason.
-winces- I kind of sacrificed Keisuke to the gods of comic relief in this story. No, seriously. It's unfortunate because I've been trying to develop everyone's character equally, but I think I got to Keisuke and just kind of lost it. Although (heh) I've always pictured Keisuke as just a little bit effeminate. I don't know why…
WHAT IS TETSUYA LAUGHING AT?
Hopefully answered in this chapter…
Kindness and sympathy does sting. Especially when people on the receiving end have any modicum of pride in them.
It's funny that you should say this. I was just thinking about how Yui and Nakago are actually kind of similar, in the sense that both are fairly proud, and not given to showing weakness/discussing emotional sorts of stuff. Gotta wonder if her exposure to Nakago made Yui this way, or if it was the 'rape' incident, or if Yui was already this way to begin with. Or maybe I'm just crazy, and thinking of the Yui that I created and not Watase's Yui at all.
-v-
Questions for you:
1. Did the 'morning after' (heh) scene live up to peoples' expectations?
2. What did you think of Tasuki in this chapter? I was trying to flesh him out a bit more, or at least make him seem a bit less of an idiot than I feel like he was in Part 2. I'd be interested to know whether I succeeded or not.
-v-
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except bad humor and a really bizarre plot. Characters and everything else belong to Yuu Watase.
