Chapter 8: If You Have To Ask…
Tamahome and Miaka were slowly adjusting to being around Nakago. They were still wary of him and gave him a wide berth whenever possible, which seemed to suit the blonde man just fine. The little conversation that actually did pass between the reluctant allies consisted mostly of insults, snide remarks and barbs. Thankfully however, no blood had been spilled yet, although many a time, it had been a close call.
Another day was drawing to a close when Nakago abruptly stopped on his tracks, his eyes narrowing. Something did not feel quite right, and Nakago had never been one to ignore his instincts. His hand went to his sword.
What the—? Tamahome tensed as he saw the former Seiryuu seishi reaching for his sword. Had Nakago decided to try to kill them after all? Tamahome was about to say something when he felt it. The chi of an enemy…hostile intentions did not even begin to describe what they had in mind for the three travellers.
"Incoming," Nakago remarked, in his calm, unflappable manner, even as a spear whistled past Tamahome's ear, barely missing his head.
Six warriors appeared, from various directions, closing in on them. The warriors were all dressed in dark purple, each one wielding a different weapon.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?" Tamahome yelled in fury, directing a chi-blast at the closest one. The unfortunate would-be assassin was too close to avoid it and the impact flung him back a good distance, where he lay unmoving, having been knocked out for the count.
The Suzaku seishi cracked his knuckles gleefully, turning to the next opponent, who charged at him with a large, vicious looking battle axe. Behind him, Nakago had engaged in combat with an assassin who was using what looked like a metal tipped bullwhip.
Poor fool…Tamahome almost pitied the man standing against Nakago. Obviously, the assassin had not done any research on his opponent…if he had, he would have found out that Nakago was very proficient in the use of a whip. The blonde shogun knew exactly how a whip would move in battle and would be able to counter those moves effortlessly.
Tamahome was right. In less time than it took for Miaka to finish a meal, the whip-wielding assassin was reduced to a crumpled heap on the ground.
Miaka watched wide eyed from the cover of some bushes where Tamahome had shoved her the second he had sensed their attackers. Tamahome was at the moment, busy taunting a man who was trying to chop him into half with a battle axe.
"Is that the best you can do? My GRANDMOTHER can do better than that!" The enraged man took a swing at the Suzaku seishi, which Tamahome nimbly dodged.
Miaka switched her attention to Nakago and instantly regretted it. The blonde who had been her enemy not so long ago was dispatching his adversaries with frightening efficiency…And unlike Tamahome, there was no emotion on Nakago's face, except a cold, impassive mask. She quickly looked away as he systematically ended another assassin's life. She almost wished that he had his powers…at least when he chi-blasted someone, it was not quite so…bloody.
Meanwhile, another assassin had come to his comrade's aid. Tamahome now faced two growling purple-clad men. The symbol of the demon glowed on his forehead and his lips were pulled back in a gleeful sneer. He stood his ground as they both charged at him at the same time, waiting until they were almost on top of him before executing two simultaneous uppercuts which sent both attackers flying.
Giving an exaggerated sigh, he calmly walked over to the moaning heap of purple and cracked both their skulls together. Grinning victoriously, he dusted off his hands. That was when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the glint of sunlight reflecting off something on top of a rock outcropping just outside the immediate battleground.
Kuso! There are more than six! his mind screamed, even as he registered the familiar lines of the polished wood and metal contraception in the assassin's hands.
Crossbow. With steel tipped arrows.
OH SHIT.
From where the assassin was, he had a clear shot of Nakago…And because the shogun's concentration was focused on the enemy in front of him, coupled with the fact that the crossbow handler was too far away for Nakago's un-enhanced chi sense to pick up, the blonde man was unaware that his life was in mortal danger…
Nakago ducked under the swipes of a matching set of daggers. Fighting with daggers meant that the user could move faster, because they were lighter and easier to manipulate. Using twin daggers meant that the fighter could use one dagger for defence and the other for attack. Indeed, the moves available to a person skilled in the art of fighting with two daggers were many and varied.
However, there was one problem…
The user had to get close to the enemy. Which was dangerous, when the opponent happened to be the former shogun of Kutou-koku.
As it was, the assassin was overbalanced for a fraction of a second after his unsuccessful attack. It was all the time Nakago needed to thrust his sword up into the man's stomach.
"Too slow," Nakago said dispassionately, as he straightened, withdrawing his weapon from the still gasping man. The assassin was not dead yet, but he would be, soon.
Without warning, he heard a faint whistling sound and saw a vision a dark blue-green hair appear out of nowhere in front him, shoving him roughly aside. There was the sickeningly juicy squelch of something embedding itself into human flesh, and a piercing scream…From the Suzaku no Miko, he realised.
Tamahome stood in the exact spot Nakago had occupied a moment ago, a bolt from a crossbow protruding out of his chest. The shogun instantly knew what had occurred, tearing his gaze away from Tamahome and scanning the rocky overhangs and outcroppings. He extended his senses, closing in on the enemy's chi.
There.
The assassin was desperately trying to reload the crossbow. Nakago looked around, his eyes going to the dropped dagger on the ground. His eyes narrowed into mere slits, the blue bleached almost to the colour of liquid mercury.
In a deft move, he flipped the dagger up with his boot, and caught it expertly by its blade. Without even seeming to aim, he hurled it at the assassin. The deadly projectile gleamed in the sunlight as it spun blade over hilt, heading towards its target with unerring accuracy.
The next moment, the crossbow handler toppled off from his hiding place, a dagger sticking out of his forehead, right between his eyes.
The whole affair had taken all of eight seconds.
Nakago turned back to Tamahome even as Miaka reached her beloved. The seishi had collapsed on the ground. The bolt had gone in deep, barely missing the heart. The Suzaku seishi's hands were bloody where they grasped the shaft and the ground under his body had turned soggy from the rapidly spreading pool of dark red.
Miaka was on her knees, kneeling in Tamahome's blood, cradling him as she whispered his name in disbelief, begging him to respond.
From the laboured breathing and the faint gurgling sound he detected, Nakago guessed that the arrow had punctured a lung. Tamahome coughed, blood staining his lips and forming a thin trickle of red down his chin.
The Suzaku no Miko was crying now, her tears mixing with the blood of her lover. She seemed to have forgotten about the existence of anyone else, so focused was she on Tamahome.
Nakago stepped up, "Why did you do that for, Idiot?" His words were cold and harsh, masking the unease he felt.
Tamahome slowly opened his eyes to look at Nakago, the violet orbs hazed with pain. "If you have…to ask…you'll never understand…" he spoke with difficulty.
"Tamahome! Please…please save your strength!" Miaka cut in urgently. "Tamahome…" her voice trembled.
The dark haired man turned his attention to the love of his life, he could feel his life force draining out of him and knew it was almost over. "Miaka…" he whispered, "I want you to…promise me…"
She stared at him, tears almost blinding her, "Don't talk like that! You're going to be all right! You're going be all right," she repeated desperately, tears slipping down her face in a tragic waterfall.
"Iie…" he corrected her weakly, taking her hand in one of his, "Please promise me…that you'll carry on…and stop…Tenkou."
"Tamahome, I…" she stammered, wanting to refuse, refusing to accept…
"Miaka…please…" he looked into the hazel eyes he loved so well. Don't make this so difficult Miaka…
"Do it, Suzaku no Miko." A voice behind her. Cold. Unfeeling. Nakago.
"I…I promise," she sobbed, burying her face in Tamahome's neck and embracing him. She clung on to him for all she was worth, as if the strength of her grip could pull him back from death's door. YOU CAN'T DIE! YOU CHEATED DEATH BEFORE, DIDN'T YOU?! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!!
Tamahome stared at the top of Miaka's head, her heartwrenching sobs were tearing him apart inside, causing him more pain than his injuries. He turned his head once again and forced himself to focus on the blonde man standing a few feet away, a mute plea in his violet eyes.
Please…
Nakago's features hardened for an instant, before he gave a small, barely perceptible nod.
Thank you…Tamahome tried to convey his gratitude to the other man with a smile, but it come out more like a grimace of pain. His body was suddenly wrecked with coughs as he struggled to breathe through the blood filling his lungs.
"Tamahome! Don't leave me! Please don't die!" she whimpered pitifully.
"Gomen, Miaka…" he painfully raised a hand to caress her cheek, trying to wipe away her tears, but instead succeeding in leaving streaks of blood on her smooth skin. "Wo Ai Ni…always…"
His hand fell away from her cheek, as the last breath rattled in his lungs and the last trace of the faintly glowing symbol on his forehead disappeared completely.
"Tamahome! TAMAHOME!" she screamed, shaking him hard, not wanting to accept the fact that he had left her. "DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME!! WHAT ABOUT YOUR PROMISE?? YOU PROMISED ME THAT WE WOULD ALWAYS BE TOGETHER! YOU SAID YOU WOULD ALWAYS PROTECT ME!! You promised…"
Nakago watched the Suzaku no Miko's anguish expressionlessly. Her pain was so intense that it was almost tangible. He stood, behind them, searching his thoughts. Shouldn't he be feeling happy that his greatest adversary was dead? Shouldn't he be rejoicing? Why was it that he felt a vague sense of loss instead of the joy he had expected?
"Suzaku no Miko—" he addressed her, his voice cutting through the cool evening air. She was still cradling Tamahome's head in her arms, rocking gently as if she was holding a sleeping baby. She ignored him, all her attention focused on her love.
It was quickly getting dark and he had no wish to remain in such an exposed position. Tenkou had sent the assassins after them. He recognised the unique purple that was the evil deity's signature colour. There was no guarantee that they would not be attacked again, and he wanted to put as much distance between them and the next group of assassins who were sure to follow.
She's no use to anyone like this. He swiftly walked over to her and forcefully hauled her up, tearing her away from Tamahome's body, "We have to leave. Now." he said coldly.
She wrenched herself out of his grip, tears of anger and grief streaming down her face. How dare he separate her from her beloved Tamahome? How dare he…
Nakago knew her intentions even before she realised them herself…and had positioned himself accordingly. He stood between her and the still body on the ground, preventing her from going back to it.
Miaka trembled as rage suffused her being when she realised what Nakago was doing. She did the only thing she could do. She lashed out at him.
"I hope you're happy now! You are, aren't you? Your strongest opponent is DEAD! HE TOOK THAT ARROW MEANT FOR YOU!! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!! I HATE YOU!!" she shrieked at him, losing control. Before he could respond to her accusations, she turned and ran away, as fast as her legs could carry her…trying to leave all her grief, her pain, and the sight of Tamahome's cold, lifeless body behind.
Her heart refused to believe what her mind knew was the truth. Iie…Tamahome is not dead! He cannot be dead! Locked in denial, she believed that if she ran fast enough and far enough, everything would be okay. Tamahome would soon catch up with her and save her from harm, like he always did…
Tasuki and Chichiri were in Konan palace having a discussion with the royal advisors when they both felt something inside them disappear…as if a part of them had died. Tasuki paled, his white knuckled hands holding on to the edge of the table in front of him for support. No! Not this…it can't be! Obake-chan…
Chichiri was in no better condition. The monk had gone as white as a sheet under his mask. "Oh no…Tamahome…" he whispered shakily, his usual 'no da' conspicuously absent.
Tasuki fell on his knees, in front of the astonished advisors, tears dripping from his bloodless face. "Miaka…please…please be all right…"
And for the second time in his life, Tasuki fainted.
Notes:
Ducks a pitchfork thrown by an angry lynch mob of Tamahome fans and Tamahome/Miaka supporters Er…Sorry? It's not that I hate Tamahome or anything…just that his death is crucial to the rest of the story….Poor Obake-chan just had to go! Besides, this story is gonna centre around Nakago-sama! : :Evil cackle: :
