Author's Notes: I figured it was about time that I got a hand done on my other stories. Seems people don't appreciate the Seiryuu seishi much. I could rant and rave on how obscenely predictable that is, but I'll just write a Suzaku fic instead. Mitsukake's addition to this series...done in a style I don't think many people would expect.

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Spoilers: Episode 15 and 27.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of Fushigi Yuugi or any of its characters.

Devotion


Shin: Sadness

There was once a time in my life where I believed that all things were as I wanted them to be. That fate was not an object wrought by gods but by the mortal hands of men. I wanted my life to be one way, seeing only what I wanted, living and loving only as I desired.
I know better now; the price I payed for my arrogance was harsh and will, in its baleful way, forever haunt me. But back then...I only knew of myself.
My powers manifested themselves not long after my family's death, in a time when the flood had left thousands barely clinging to life.
It had been too late for my own family; I myself had found their bloated, rotted corpses left over from the flood. Seeing your own family dead and scattered...I don't think any child should have to face that. No boy should ever have to watch the end come so quickly. Perhaps that's why I spoke to Tamahome so often after the incident with Suboshi--I knew what he was going through.
But in death, there is life, same as illumination in utter darkness, and as I tearfully clutched the bodies of my fallen families, there shone in all its dazzling, fiery glowing the burning symbol of Suzaku's only healer.
Lone, because there were still lessons I had to learn.
The first person I ever healed was a young mother whose lungs had filled with fluids and, in time, had gained the coughing sickness because of it. Her child was much in the same condition, his features pale and drawn and reminiscent of death. I healed her first because I assumed I would be able to heal him; I healed her first because I thought the boy would rather die than live without a mother.
Suzaku, you were cruel to have given me such reign over life.
Sitting in the sand, pressing my hands over the boy's temple, praying to my god and savior for the powers he had granted to me, and wondering...wondering why the symbol wasn't showing up, why I couldn't save the little this little boy like I had his mother...is an image that will never leave me. Nor will her anguished cries finish echoing throughout my guilt-ridden mind. She cursed me that day...threw me down and slapped me, demanded to know what kind of demon I was to allow a mother watch her own child die. How could I possibly tell her that I hadn't known? That my family had died before I had a chance to heal them? I wouldn't have told her anyway; it would have done little to ease her grief.
I decided to become a doctor from that day forward. Indeed, Suzaku had granted me the ability to heal, but he had done so in the cruelest of fashions. If I wanted to truly help people, I had to learn to heal them without the aid of immortal gifts. That way, I would not be forced to choose one man's life over the other, using my power as infrequently as possible, and only in the most desperate of situations. It was unfair for me to deign who would live and who would die, the same way Suzaku was unkind in giving me such power.
Because every person who has died from my lacking has left an undying mark on my soul.
Even with that knowledge, I don't think the woman by the river has ever forgiven me. Even to the day she passed on, suffering from the disease my own love would later die from.
It was by chance that I met up with her again. Called to her village, I had treated her as best I could, trying to cool her fever and relieve her aches. She didn't recognize, grown as I was to a strong and brawny young man, but had she looked into my eyes, she would have known. I think she had burned the much-hated image of myself into her heart as much as I had hers.
She had begged me to let her die.
"Why," I had asked, "Why would you rather pass on than let me heal you?"
"Because," she answered, "Sometimes it's only death that we can find hope."
Her hand went limp, and then she took her last shuddering breaths. Before she went away, she uttered one named, "Miyuki..."
Her son.
Perhaps it was fate that brought me to her village to hear those words, to engrave them on my soul. It was, in fact, treating her that made me late in my return to my village...to my Shoka. To this day, I still wonder whether it was meant as a punishment or a lesson.
For the next few years, I buried myself in my studies of medecine and healing. A family in a little town called Chouko took me in. They raised me alongside their daughter, who, as time passed on, proved to my light in the darkness of death.
Shoka...It meant summer in our tongue. One could only help but revel in the sweetness of the sun when around her. And, indeed, she was the light of my world, my lone salvation in the lies I had unknowingly drowned myself in.
Gods...she was my everything, my world, my light. I could not have the world, but I would have her, and that was enough for me.
I knew so much darkness after she died. The illusions and falsities claimed me, burying me beneath their putrid layers. So many questions I asked of god, so many answers that were never give. Such much I had lost, so much I no longer wanted.
I died the day she passed on.
And I died again when I killed her.
...I hated them. For taking away the darkness. At least in the night, I could not see the dawn; I couldn't see all the lies and hate I had buried myself in. There was no hint of selfishness, no anger for all of whom had suffered for my sins. Just pain. Misery. Pity. That was my life.
But then...I had never really known what it meant to live at all.
She taught me that. With her sparkling hazel eyes and cheerful smile. Life was not about molding the future to your own desires. There were other people in the world as well. Destiny cannot be ignored, nor can duty. Pain and sorrow will overwhelm us, but there is joy amongst the suffering. And if you don't believe in that...in hope...then you have no reason for living.
Shoka's death was as much my salvation as her own.
There is much to regret, much sin on my soul to cleanse yet. I died once and was reincarnated twice over, but I still have penance to pay. Like the old woman said, there is as much life as there is in death. Her son was her beacon of light; Shouka was once mine.
And now Miaka is my pillar of hope. Because though there is a part of me that owes them my heart, there is another piece of me that can never forgive them; the same way the old woman and a few among my own never forgave me. The night is a terrifying and lonely place, but the dawn can burn you as well, and to bring a man who has spent much of his life in the darkness to light...These illusions are not so easily shed.
Which is why I stand in the background. Quiet is something I've been prone to all my life, and the shadows are a place of oblivion. I cannot stand in the light beside them because I do not deserve.
But I will stand among them, as a healer and a friend. Because in their eyes lies part of my salvation, and because if I can bring myself to forgive them someday, then maybe I can forgive myself.

Final Notes From the Author:

I realize that Hotohori's wasn't as great as it should've been, so I tried to make up for it with Mitsukake's. I hope you liked it.
Mitsukake always fascinated me. He speaks little, tends to stay in the background, but when he does speak up, it's usually something important. (He can also be surprisingly witty.) He also...blames himself for alot of stuff that he really shouldn't. When somebody dies, it's his fault. He doesn't always say it, but you can see it in his eyes.
I have a feeling Mitsukake carries alot of guilt with him. Not as much just for Shouka, but for everyone he hurt during his selfish self-exile. So I wrote this story in response. Hope you liked it! *hugs*

-Chaotic Serenity