DISCLAIMER: None of this belongs to me. In fact, very little belongs to me. I haven't eaten in five months. Send help...send...*choke*...help...
AUTHOR'S NOTE1: Okay, okay...I realize I've got "And Then It Changes," I've got that hideous little "Rain" story...but, I can't help it. I want to do more with Hotohori and Nuriko...I want to give them the perfect setting, the perfect turn-out, the perfect story! Join me in my quest! I will accomplish it! I wiiiiiiiiiiill! *firm nod* Wish me luck. Perhaps this one will be the one. ^_^.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: This is an AU fic. To understand where the fic begins, you must understand this--in this story, Chiriko arrives a few minutes earlier, events with Amiboshi proceed as they did previously (e.g., him falling into the river and "dying")...but, the ceremony is able to conclude, then, and actually WORKS this time, seeing as Miaka never had the chance to burn the bloody scroll. Okay...now that I've explained that...onward we go! ^_^.
---
"Clover and Lilacs"
by Ryuen
~ ~ ~
Part 1: Farewell, Miaka...Forever.
Segment 1: The First Wish.
~*~*~*~
The words were still echoing in the chamber when the sky exploded with a fierce, bursting crimson light. Reflexively, the seishi winced...but, none could tear their eyes from the blinding, brilliant red glow of Suzaku's approach. None could look away...and, so none did. They stood in utter silence, gazing up into that light...watching in awe and astonishment and disbelief as the great phoenix descended upon them.
"Suzaku," Miaka murmured. Her voice was low, reverent...barely above a whisper...but, all heard. Even with the great swoosh of massive, scarlet-feathered wings, even with the chilling screech of Suzaku's cry rising like a scream in their ears...even with the low, rumbling weight of the god's presence dropping down upon them...they all heard.
Hotohori gazed up into the crimson brilliance with wide, glistening amber eyes, barely able to force himself to blink for fear he might miss something...might miss out on just one instant of the final, final appearance of the god he'd worshipped for so long. An inexplicable wash of tears sprang to his eyes, streamed in silent rivulets down his cheeks...but, he didn't even bother to wipe them away, merely stood there, stunned and in awe, and watched as Miaka was swept up into the wash of scarlet light...and tugged off into oblivion...into the place where all her wishes would come true.
Peace would come to Konan...she and that girl, Seiryuu no Miko...they would be friends again. And... Hotohori felt the thought trail off, winced slightly as a dark, heavy pain thudded into his stomach, trembled up his spine.
And, she and Tamahome would be together. Forever.
~*~*~*~
The light was almost painful to look at it--it seared into his vision, ripped straight through to the back of his skull...but, he didn't dare look away. Even if it meant burning out his own retinas, risking blindness or torture or death...he wouldn't look away--he couldn't. A light sheen of thankful, amazed tears glistened in the soft, rosy violet of his eyes, trickled through the thick darkness of his eyelashes and onto his smooth, pale cheek. He wanted to reach up a hand, wipe the tears away...but, he couldn't move--didn't want to move. To move would be to break the spell, to risk missing out on a moment of staring into the face of the god himself... No. He didn't dare move.
As he stared out at the glimmering, red-feathered beauty that was Suzaku, however, he suddenly remembered the other seishi...and, Miaka. It was strange...but, as he'd watched Suzaku descend from the heavens, as he'd watched the culmination of all their hard work and sacrifice finally come together, coalesce into this very real, very immense creature...he'd felt as if he stood all alone, a lone figure standing strong in the center of a sweeping windstorm. Tamahome wasn't standing just beside him, the other seishi weren't arranged in a rough circle around the fire, Miaka wasn't standing there at the center of the room with her hands clasped and that look of awe in her eyes...he was all alone...gazing up into the scarlet eyes of Suzaku...the god...HIS god. All alone...
Now, however, as he remembered the presence of the others, he risked a moment of prying his attention away from Suzaku to glance at them...and noticed, almost immediately, the slim, regally-robed form of Hotohori. The man--who was, he'd discovered a few days ago, only two weeks or so younger than he himself was--stood silently on the other side of the circle, hands clasped reverently before him, smooth, bronze-skinned face turned respectfully upwards...a thin stream of cool, trickling tears running in lines over his cheeks, dripping into tiny puddles from the edge of his chin.
Hotohori-sama was...crying?
The massive form of Suzaku was forgotten for a long moment as he stared openly at the young emperor, for some reason unable to tear his eyes away from those attractive, chiseled features, that smooth, bronzed skin...that streaking mass of tears. Because, somehow...it felt as if he were no longer alone in this windstorm that was Suzaku...as if he and Hotohori stood together, united by the salt of their tears, powerful and unstoppable and strong...yes. He wasn't alone anymore...even if it was just for this moment...even if Hotohori had no idea. For now...he wasn't alone anymore.
Nuriko closed his eyes briefly, was vaguely aware of a light breeze of warm, fragrant air sweeping through the chamber, rushing over his skin and leaving it tingling and cool. He'd intended, then, to return his attention to Miaka...to watch this climactic scene play itself out...but, when he opened his eyes, he realized with a bit of a start that Hotohori was staring at him.
A jolt ran through his body, shivered down his spine...and he didn't dare look away.
~*~*~*~
It was difficult, to tear his eyes away from Suzaku...but, he felt something heavy pressing against his skin, felt a sudden tugging in a different direction...and so he ripped away his gaze, glanced out at the assembled seishi...and came to a jarring, unexpected halt.
Nuriko was...crying?
The older seishi's eyes were lightly closed, making way for a slight, unstoppable trickle of tears--they seeped out through the thick wall of his eyelashes, streaked in thin white lines over the pale, marble-like beauty of his cheeks. And, for some reason...Hotohori found he couldn't look away. Even when Nuriko opened his eyes, caught him staring...he couldn't look away.
~*~*~*~
"Kai...jin."
Abruptly, Nuriko realized something had changed...something was happening... Startled and feeling the awe again beginning to creep into his veins, seep over his skin and into his heart, Nuriko gazed up into the glowing crimson light of Suzaku's earthly form, watched as Miaka--now shimmering with a reddish light of her own--took a short step forward, raised her arms as if to latch onto one of those bright, glittering feathers.
"Suzaku," she stated firmly. The dark brown layers of her hair swept about her face in slim, fluttering ribbons, and the light fabric of her ceremonial robes flickered over her knees and ankles, swept over her skin like wavering fields of grain. "For my first wish, Suzaku..." She trailed off, seem to hesitate for a moment...then, suddenly, drew in a long breath, let it out in a quick huff through her nostrils. "Bring peace to Konan!" she exclaimed. Her voice echoed wildly through the room, magnified tenfold by the immensity of Suzaku's power behind her. "Bring peace to Konan, and let all the people live in happiness and peace for the rest of their lives!"
Suzaku seemed to nod. "It will be done," a deep voice whispered.
A moment later, there was an even brighter flash of crimson light, a deep rumble of movement along with the telltale fluttering of heavy wings...and then, abruptly and with a great whoosh of air, the light winked out...the sound faded into nothingness...and Miaka fell to her knees on the ground.
Snapped from the spell by the sudden burst of silence, Nuriko shook his head slightly as if to clear it, spent a brief moment glancing around the chamber in confusion. Suzaku was...gone?
"Miaka!" It was Hotohori. The young emperor was at the girl's side in an instant, placing gentle hands on her shoulders, staring down at her with wide, concerned amber eyes. Nuriko let out a soft sigh, shook his head again...then, hurried to Miaka's side, knelt down beside her.
"Ne, Miaka," he said slowly. "Daijobu?"
Breathing heavily and looking weary but happy, Miaka glanced up at him, offered a slim smile. "Ne, Nuriko," she murmured. "Dai...daijobu. Just...tired."
"Oi, I don't get it!" came a loud voice from across the chamber. A moment later, the flame-haired bandit had loped his way to the platform, stood with one fist resting on his hip as he stared down at the slim form of his miko. "Oi, Miaka...where'd Suzaku go? I dont' @#(*&$ get it."
Positioned, as they were, on either side of Miaka, the violet-haired seishi's gaze inevitably met up with Hotohori's, lingered for a moment as both considered the outcome of the ceremony.
"He's...inside of me," Miaka said at last, her voice soft...whispery. By this time, the other seishi and a concerned-looking Tamahome had made their way to her side, were staring down at her with wide eyes.
Nuriko blinked. "Inside of you?" he echoed.
Miaka nodded. "Un. 'Merge with me three times. Use my power three times.' That's...that's what he told me." She smiled a bit weakly. "Ne, that means only two wishes left...have to...make them count..." Abruptly, the girl seemed to lose all strength and fell weakly to the side. Hotohori's arms were around her a moment later, holding her up, supporting her lolling head gently against his chest.
Reflexively, Nuriko glanced back to Tamahome, found the younger man standing just behind Hotohori, hands clenched into tiny, silent fists at his sides...but, Tamahome said nothing...only stared. His eyes were narrow and dark, his features hard...solid with a kind of strength Nuriko found himself inexplicably envying.
//He's confident that Miaka loves him. Even having Hotohori-sama touch her like this...he knows it won't change how she feels.\\
Before the eighteen-year-old had any more time to reflect, however, Miaka was stirring in Hotohori's arms, lifting her head slightly and managing a small smile. "Gomen ne," she offered softly. "I'm worn out. Merging with an animal god isn't as easy...as I thought it would be." The girl drew in a soft breath, let it out slowly through her nostrils. "Ne, Hotohori...could you help me back to my room? I...I need to rest."
Hotohori nodded immediately, somehow managed to get his feet beneath him while still maintaining his grip on Miaka. A moment later, he was walking strongly towards the far-off chamber door, the other six seishi following in silent formation just behind their emperor. In spite of his own need to be near to Miaka--and Hotohori, of course--Nuriko let Tamahome walk just behind the robed ruler, elected instead to stay near the back with Tasuki and Chichiri. Despite the two's seeming differences, he'd noticed recently that the pair seemed to be together more often than not, striking up a tentative friendship in the rushed, mangled world of Suzaku shichiseishi. As the eight of them began the silent trek down the immense palace stairs, Nuriko found himself reflecting on that for a moment...and felt a soft, flickering sorrow kindling in his heart, radiating through his mind in dark, growing waves.
//I'm the only one who has no one,\\ he realized silently. //Chichiri has Tasuki, Tamahome has Miaka, Hotohori-sama has Miaka, Mitsukake has Chiriko...or, he did, anyway, before Chiriko decided to try to kill us all...\\
Regardless...he'd already witnessed the way the other six tended to fit into their preordained grooves--Hotohori, Tamahome, and Miaka were one groove, Chichiri and Tasuki another, Mitsukake and the boy...Chiriko...they were another. Even now, he could see how the older man walked strongly beside the youngest of them all, cast occasional protective glances in the boy's direction...yes. Mitsukake and the new Chiriko would be friends...almost certainly. And, so what of him? Who did he have?
No one.
Nuriko let out a soft sigh, forced himself to put aside the depressing thoughts for now, to focus, instead, on the exciting events of the day...the exciting moments still yet to come. They'd finally called Suzaku, were finally going to make all their wishes come true...and, say goodbye to Miaka...Tamahome, too, maybe. For some reason, it hurt to think of that, to consider that upcoming farewell...but, he bore it, as he bore all things. The strength of the boy who'd survived his sister's death trickled to the surface, became a hard, impenetrable mask over his features.
Even if he had no one...even if Miaka was going to be leaving soon, thus ending--not only their friendship--but his life as a shichiseishi as well...he would be strong. He had to be. Because, if he wasn't...then, what was there?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
~*~*~*~
The door to Miaka's room slid quietly open...and the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the young emperor stepped out, tugged it closed behind him. The sky had darkened since he entered the chambers so many hours ago, leaving a thick, shadowed streak of grey and midnight blue creeping up over the edge of the horizon, casting a mass of heavy shadows over the palace grounds. The walkway itself was firm and solid beneath his feet, and from experience he knew that the railing was just four steps away, the curving wall just in arm's reach...but, aside from the far-off glimmer of moonlight peering from behind a thick mass of clouds, all was dark...and Hotohori was left clinging to the wall to find his way back to his own chambers.
As he reached for the wall, however, his foot thudded into something soft, and he stopped, startled, as a light yelp of surprise sounded from the walkway floor. He peered down into the darkness for a long moment, straining to see through the mass of shadows...but finally gave up, the echoes of the voice still ringing in his ears, familiar and almost welcome.
"Nuriko?" he asked, raising one speculative eyebrow. He tried, again, to make out some sign of the other seishi through the blackness of the night, but all he could see was the vague outline of Nuriko's head and shoulders, the barest glimmer of violet hair in the far-off glow of the moonlight. From what he could see, however, it seemed that the older man had been sitting against the wall just beside Miaka's door, legs tugged to his chest, chin resting lightly on his knees. Now that he'd been discovered, however, the violet-haired seishi rose with a soft grunt to his feet, brushed briefly at his clothing.
"Gomen ne, Hotohori-sama," Nuriko murmured, sounding vaguely embarrassed. "I must've drifted off...gomen."
The young emperor shook his head, offered a smile he knew Nuriko couldn't see. "It's all right, Nuriko. Don't apologize." He paused slightly, studied the other man as best he could in the darkness, taking in the slight hesitancy to his words, the odd tenseness to his posture in general...was something bothering him? Shaking his head slightly, Hotohori took a short step back, folded his arms lightly over his chest. "Miaka is sleeping," he said softly, guessing at Nuriko's reasons for sitting in such a place. "Demo...if you'll wait until morning, I'm sure she'll be--"
Nuriko laughed softly, cutting through his words. "Iie, Hotohori-sama," he said after a moment, the traces of the smile still twisting at his words. "I wasn't here waiting for Miaka."
Hotohori raised a slim, imperial eyebrow. "Oh? Who were you waiting for, then?"
The truth struck into him even before the older man answered, made a slight shiver creep its way through his body, tingle down the length of his spine. "I was waiting for you," Nuriko murmured.
The young emperor drew in a sharp breath, struggled for a moment to find words...any words...what could he say to such a thing? Of course, he'd gathered that Nuriko had had something of a crush on him when they first met, but that was natural--all the harem women (or men, in this case) had some sort of longing for the emperor--it was normal, expected even...but, this... There was such...need in Nuriko's voice, such helpless, unstoppable longing... Yet, it was the kind of dark, secret desire that he would never have been able to detect had they stood in a fully-lit room. For some reason, Nuriko's wide smiles and relaxed, casual movements somehow cancelled out any worry that the man might be sheltering deeper, darker thoughts...but, of course, he must have them--he was a human being, after all...and, everyone--Nuriko, even Chichiri--had to experience such thoughts from time to time....right?
In a fully lit room, Nuriko would be smiling at him, looking innocent and pleasant and like nothing ever troubled him or even came close to touching his heart. But, now...in the cooling shelter of the darkness...he could hear the slight edge to the words, somehow sense the very real despair lurking just beneath the surface...and the longing. The longing in Nuriko's voice bit into him like sharpened teeth, made him wince in real, honest pain. Because, Nuriko was hurting...and, it was all because of HIM.
Before he had a chance to get a better of a grip on his thoughts, Nuriko had overcome the sudden silence and was stumbling onward, and Hotohori could practically see those pale cheeks flushing a bright red, those slim fingers kneading nervously in front of him. His voice was even and measured again, the traces of that forced smile tugging once more at his lips.
Nuriko cleared his throat. "That is...I was waiting for you to tell you that Chichiri and the others wanted to talk to you, before you went to bed...Heika."
The word almost felt like an insult. After all they'd been through...after all they'd shared...to be called "Heika" now, by this man...it was a slap in the face, and more proof--if he needed it--of the fact that he'd somehow struck a nerve with Nuriko, that the secretive young man was pulling out all his concealing tricks, doing his best to cover that darkened longing the best he could...but, of course, it was too late. He'd heard...he'd understood. He wondered, briefly, if Nuriko himself understood.
But...he couldn't think about this now. Nuriko mattered to him, yes...but, there was Miaka to deal with, and the other seishi...yes. Nuriko would have to wait.
"Hai," Hotohori said firmly, nodding slightly in thanks. "Arrigato, Nuriko."
Then, without another word, the younger man turned, pressed one slim-fingered hand to the wall, and began the long, touch-and-feel trek back to his chambers. It wasn't until he reached the welcoming warmth of his rooms that he remembered the moment, today, when he and Nuriko locked gazes across the glowing brilliance of the ceremonial chambers, identical streams of salty tears streaking over their cheeks, joining them in a single, unstoppable moment of understanding and joint strength.
It had been a strange moment...and Nuriko the last person he would've expected to share it with.
Demo... Hotohori shook his head, settled into the depths of his chair and closed his eyes. Demo...Nuriko was a man. He would just have to let him down easily, somehow explain that he loved Miaka--always would. Hai...that was what he would do. First thing in the morning, of course. He groaned inwardly, suddenly remembered what Nuriko had said about the other seishi waiting for him, wanting to talk to him... Groaning softly under his breath, the young emperor rose to his feet. He spent a moment smoothing out the thick fabric of his robes, then set out into the darkened shadows of the night once more, eyes trained on the far-off glint of lamplight coming from Chichiri's bedroom.
He moved swiftly...and never noticed the eyes following him through the darkness...or the soft murmurs of footsteps just behind him.
~*~*~*~
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, ANOTHER author's note. *sweatdrop* Hehe. Isn't the title nice and sappy? *sniffle* Took me forever to think of it...I may change it...eh, anyway. I'm liking how this fic is going...and, since I've had a severe case of writer's block all day, I'm extreeeeeeemely glad I was able to make something coherent of this. ^_^. *ahem* But, anyway. Since you're already the whooooooole way down here, let me know what you think. And, if you absolutely hate it, don't worry. I like flames. They provide enough warmth to heat a modestly-sized home through most of the bitter winter months...plus, if you angle them correctly and channel the heat JUUUUST right, it's possible to create splendid dishes of scrambled eggs and other such small foodstuffs. *clears throat lightly* But, anyway. Review. I'll lavish you with kisses...or...*cough*...well, maybe I'll just thank you. Hrm. Yeah. Bye-bye. :) -Ryuen
AUTHOR'S NOTE1: Okay, okay...I realize I've got "And Then It Changes," I've got that hideous little "Rain" story...but, I can't help it. I want to do more with Hotohori and Nuriko...I want to give them the perfect setting, the perfect turn-out, the perfect story! Join me in my quest! I will accomplish it! I wiiiiiiiiiiill! *firm nod* Wish me luck. Perhaps this one will be the one. ^_^.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: This is an AU fic. To understand where the fic begins, you must understand this--in this story, Chiriko arrives a few minutes earlier, events with Amiboshi proceed as they did previously (e.g., him falling into the river and "dying")...but, the ceremony is able to conclude, then, and actually WORKS this time, seeing as Miaka never had the chance to burn the bloody scroll. Okay...now that I've explained that...onward we go! ^_^.
---
"Clover and Lilacs"
by Ryuen
~ ~ ~
Part 1: Farewell, Miaka...Forever.
Segment 1: The First Wish.
~*~*~*~
The words were still echoing in the chamber when the sky exploded with a fierce, bursting crimson light. Reflexively, the seishi winced...but, none could tear their eyes from the blinding, brilliant red glow of Suzaku's approach. None could look away...and, so none did. They stood in utter silence, gazing up into that light...watching in awe and astonishment and disbelief as the great phoenix descended upon them.
"Suzaku," Miaka murmured. Her voice was low, reverent...barely above a whisper...but, all heard. Even with the great swoosh of massive, scarlet-feathered wings, even with the chilling screech of Suzaku's cry rising like a scream in their ears...even with the low, rumbling weight of the god's presence dropping down upon them...they all heard.
Hotohori gazed up into the crimson brilliance with wide, glistening amber eyes, barely able to force himself to blink for fear he might miss something...might miss out on just one instant of the final, final appearance of the god he'd worshipped for so long. An inexplicable wash of tears sprang to his eyes, streamed in silent rivulets down his cheeks...but, he didn't even bother to wipe them away, merely stood there, stunned and in awe, and watched as Miaka was swept up into the wash of scarlet light...and tugged off into oblivion...into the place where all her wishes would come true.
Peace would come to Konan...she and that girl, Seiryuu no Miko...they would be friends again. And... Hotohori felt the thought trail off, winced slightly as a dark, heavy pain thudded into his stomach, trembled up his spine.
And, she and Tamahome would be together. Forever.
~*~*~*~
The light was almost painful to look at it--it seared into his vision, ripped straight through to the back of his skull...but, he didn't dare look away. Even if it meant burning out his own retinas, risking blindness or torture or death...he wouldn't look away--he couldn't. A light sheen of thankful, amazed tears glistened in the soft, rosy violet of his eyes, trickled through the thick darkness of his eyelashes and onto his smooth, pale cheek. He wanted to reach up a hand, wipe the tears away...but, he couldn't move--didn't want to move. To move would be to break the spell, to risk missing out on a moment of staring into the face of the god himself... No. He didn't dare move.
As he stared out at the glimmering, red-feathered beauty that was Suzaku, however, he suddenly remembered the other seishi...and, Miaka. It was strange...but, as he'd watched Suzaku descend from the heavens, as he'd watched the culmination of all their hard work and sacrifice finally come together, coalesce into this very real, very immense creature...he'd felt as if he stood all alone, a lone figure standing strong in the center of a sweeping windstorm. Tamahome wasn't standing just beside him, the other seishi weren't arranged in a rough circle around the fire, Miaka wasn't standing there at the center of the room with her hands clasped and that look of awe in her eyes...he was all alone...gazing up into the scarlet eyes of Suzaku...the god...HIS god. All alone...
Now, however, as he remembered the presence of the others, he risked a moment of prying his attention away from Suzaku to glance at them...and noticed, almost immediately, the slim, regally-robed form of Hotohori. The man--who was, he'd discovered a few days ago, only two weeks or so younger than he himself was--stood silently on the other side of the circle, hands clasped reverently before him, smooth, bronze-skinned face turned respectfully upwards...a thin stream of cool, trickling tears running in lines over his cheeks, dripping into tiny puddles from the edge of his chin.
Hotohori-sama was...crying?
The massive form of Suzaku was forgotten for a long moment as he stared openly at the young emperor, for some reason unable to tear his eyes away from those attractive, chiseled features, that smooth, bronzed skin...that streaking mass of tears. Because, somehow...it felt as if he were no longer alone in this windstorm that was Suzaku...as if he and Hotohori stood together, united by the salt of their tears, powerful and unstoppable and strong...yes. He wasn't alone anymore...even if it was just for this moment...even if Hotohori had no idea. For now...he wasn't alone anymore.
Nuriko closed his eyes briefly, was vaguely aware of a light breeze of warm, fragrant air sweeping through the chamber, rushing over his skin and leaving it tingling and cool. He'd intended, then, to return his attention to Miaka...to watch this climactic scene play itself out...but, when he opened his eyes, he realized with a bit of a start that Hotohori was staring at him.
A jolt ran through his body, shivered down his spine...and he didn't dare look away.
~*~*~*~
It was difficult, to tear his eyes away from Suzaku...but, he felt something heavy pressing against his skin, felt a sudden tugging in a different direction...and so he ripped away his gaze, glanced out at the assembled seishi...and came to a jarring, unexpected halt.
Nuriko was...crying?
The older seishi's eyes were lightly closed, making way for a slight, unstoppable trickle of tears--they seeped out through the thick wall of his eyelashes, streaked in thin white lines over the pale, marble-like beauty of his cheeks. And, for some reason...Hotohori found he couldn't look away. Even when Nuriko opened his eyes, caught him staring...he couldn't look away.
~*~*~*~
"Kai...jin."
Abruptly, Nuriko realized something had changed...something was happening... Startled and feeling the awe again beginning to creep into his veins, seep over his skin and into his heart, Nuriko gazed up into the glowing crimson light of Suzaku's earthly form, watched as Miaka--now shimmering with a reddish light of her own--took a short step forward, raised her arms as if to latch onto one of those bright, glittering feathers.
"Suzaku," she stated firmly. The dark brown layers of her hair swept about her face in slim, fluttering ribbons, and the light fabric of her ceremonial robes flickered over her knees and ankles, swept over her skin like wavering fields of grain. "For my first wish, Suzaku..." She trailed off, seem to hesitate for a moment...then, suddenly, drew in a long breath, let it out in a quick huff through her nostrils. "Bring peace to Konan!" she exclaimed. Her voice echoed wildly through the room, magnified tenfold by the immensity of Suzaku's power behind her. "Bring peace to Konan, and let all the people live in happiness and peace for the rest of their lives!"
Suzaku seemed to nod. "It will be done," a deep voice whispered.
A moment later, there was an even brighter flash of crimson light, a deep rumble of movement along with the telltale fluttering of heavy wings...and then, abruptly and with a great whoosh of air, the light winked out...the sound faded into nothingness...and Miaka fell to her knees on the ground.
Snapped from the spell by the sudden burst of silence, Nuriko shook his head slightly as if to clear it, spent a brief moment glancing around the chamber in confusion. Suzaku was...gone?
"Miaka!" It was Hotohori. The young emperor was at the girl's side in an instant, placing gentle hands on her shoulders, staring down at her with wide, concerned amber eyes. Nuriko let out a soft sigh, shook his head again...then, hurried to Miaka's side, knelt down beside her.
"Ne, Miaka," he said slowly. "Daijobu?"
Breathing heavily and looking weary but happy, Miaka glanced up at him, offered a slim smile. "Ne, Nuriko," she murmured. "Dai...daijobu. Just...tired."
"Oi, I don't get it!" came a loud voice from across the chamber. A moment later, the flame-haired bandit had loped his way to the platform, stood with one fist resting on his hip as he stared down at the slim form of his miko. "Oi, Miaka...where'd Suzaku go? I dont' @#(*&$ get it."
Positioned, as they were, on either side of Miaka, the violet-haired seishi's gaze inevitably met up with Hotohori's, lingered for a moment as both considered the outcome of the ceremony.
"He's...inside of me," Miaka said at last, her voice soft...whispery. By this time, the other seishi and a concerned-looking Tamahome had made their way to her side, were staring down at her with wide eyes.
Nuriko blinked. "Inside of you?" he echoed.
Miaka nodded. "Un. 'Merge with me three times. Use my power three times.' That's...that's what he told me." She smiled a bit weakly. "Ne, that means only two wishes left...have to...make them count..." Abruptly, the girl seemed to lose all strength and fell weakly to the side. Hotohori's arms were around her a moment later, holding her up, supporting her lolling head gently against his chest.
Reflexively, Nuriko glanced back to Tamahome, found the younger man standing just behind Hotohori, hands clenched into tiny, silent fists at his sides...but, Tamahome said nothing...only stared. His eyes were narrow and dark, his features hard...solid with a kind of strength Nuriko found himself inexplicably envying.
//He's confident that Miaka loves him. Even having Hotohori-sama touch her like this...he knows it won't change how she feels.\\
Before the eighteen-year-old had any more time to reflect, however, Miaka was stirring in Hotohori's arms, lifting her head slightly and managing a small smile. "Gomen ne," she offered softly. "I'm worn out. Merging with an animal god isn't as easy...as I thought it would be." The girl drew in a soft breath, let it out slowly through her nostrils. "Ne, Hotohori...could you help me back to my room? I...I need to rest."
Hotohori nodded immediately, somehow managed to get his feet beneath him while still maintaining his grip on Miaka. A moment later, he was walking strongly towards the far-off chamber door, the other six seishi following in silent formation just behind their emperor. In spite of his own need to be near to Miaka--and Hotohori, of course--Nuriko let Tamahome walk just behind the robed ruler, elected instead to stay near the back with Tasuki and Chichiri. Despite the two's seeming differences, he'd noticed recently that the pair seemed to be together more often than not, striking up a tentative friendship in the rushed, mangled world of Suzaku shichiseishi. As the eight of them began the silent trek down the immense palace stairs, Nuriko found himself reflecting on that for a moment...and felt a soft, flickering sorrow kindling in his heart, radiating through his mind in dark, growing waves.
//I'm the only one who has no one,\\ he realized silently. //Chichiri has Tasuki, Tamahome has Miaka, Hotohori-sama has Miaka, Mitsukake has Chiriko...or, he did, anyway, before Chiriko decided to try to kill us all...\\
Regardless...he'd already witnessed the way the other six tended to fit into their preordained grooves--Hotohori, Tamahome, and Miaka were one groove, Chichiri and Tasuki another, Mitsukake and the boy...Chiriko...they were another. Even now, he could see how the older man walked strongly beside the youngest of them all, cast occasional protective glances in the boy's direction...yes. Mitsukake and the new Chiriko would be friends...almost certainly. And, so what of him? Who did he have?
No one.
Nuriko let out a soft sigh, forced himself to put aside the depressing thoughts for now, to focus, instead, on the exciting events of the day...the exciting moments still yet to come. They'd finally called Suzaku, were finally going to make all their wishes come true...and, say goodbye to Miaka...Tamahome, too, maybe. For some reason, it hurt to think of that, to consider that upcoming farewell...but, he bore it, as he bore all things. The strength of the boy who'd survived his sister's death trickled to the surface, became a hard, impenetrable mask over his features.
Even if he had no one...even if Miaka was going to be leaving soon, thus ending--not only their friendship--but his life as a shichiseishi as well...he would be strong. He had to be. Because, if he wasn't...then, what was there?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
~*~*~*~
The door to Miaka's room slid quietly open...and the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the young emperor stepped out, tugged it closed behind him. The sky had darkened since he entered the chambers so many hours ago, leaving a thick, shadowed streak of grey and midnight blue creeping up over the edge of the horizon, casting a mass of heavy shadows over the palace grounds. The walkway itself was firm and solid beneath his feet, and from experience he knew that the railing was just four steps away, the curving wall just in arm's reach...but, aside from the far-off glimmer of moonlight peering from behind a thick mass of clouds, all was dark...and Hotohori was left clinging to the wall to find his way back to his own chambers.
As he reached for the wall, however, his foot thudded into something soft, and he stopped, startled, as a light yelp of surprise sounded from the walkway floor. He peered down into the darkness for a long moment, straining to see through the mass of shadows...but finally gave up, the echoes of the voice still ringing in his ears, familiar and almost welcome.
"Nuriko?" he asked, raising one speculative eyebrow. He tried, again, to make out some sign of the other seishi through the blackness of the night, but all he could see was the vague outline of Nuriko's head and shoulders, the barest glimmer of violet hair in the far-off glow of the moonlight. From what he could see, however, it seemed that the older man had been sitting against the wall just beside Miaka's door, legs tugged to his chest, chin resting lightly on his knees. Now that he'd been discovered, however, the violet-haired seishi rose with a soft grunt to his feet, brushed briefly at his clothing.
"Gomen ne, Hotohori-sama," Nuriko murmured, sounding vaguely embarrassed. "I must've drifted off...gomen."
The young emperor shook his head, offered a smile he knew Nuriko couldn't see. "It's all right, Nuriko. Don't apologize." He paused slightly, studied the other man as best he could in the darkness, taking in the slight hesitancy to his words, the odd tenseness to his posture in general...was something bothering him? Shaking his head slightly, Hotohori took a short step back, folded his arms lightly over his chest. "Miaka is sleeping," he said softly, guessing at Nuriko's reasons for sitting in such a place. "Demo...if you'll wait until morning, I'm sure she'll be--"
Nuriko laughed softly, cutting through his words. "Iie, Hotohori-sama," he said after a moment, the traces of the smile still twisting at his words. "I wasn't here waiting for Miaka."
Hotohori raised a slim, imperial eyebrow. "Oh? Who were you waiting for, then?"
The truth struck into him even before the older man answered, made a slight shiver creep its way through his body, tingle down the length of his spine. "I was waiting for you," Nuriko murmured.
The young emperor drew in a sharp breath, struggled for a moment to find words...any words...what could he say to such a thing? Of course, he'd gathered that Nuriko had had something of a crush on him when they first met, but that was natural--all the harem women (or men, in this case) had some sort of longing for the emperor--it was normal, expected even...but, this... There was such...need in Nuriko's voice, such helpless, unstoppable longing... Yet, it was the kind of dark, secret desire that he would never have been able to detect had they stood in a fully-lit room. For some reason, Nuriko's wide smiles and relaxed, casual movements somehow cancelled out any worry that the man might be sheltering deeper, darker thoughts...but, of course, he must have them--he was a human being, after all...and, everyone--Nuriko, even Chichiri--had to experience such thoughts from time to time....right?
In a fully lit room, Nuriko would be smiling at him, looking innocent and pleasant and like nothing ever troubled him or even came close to touching his heart. But, now...in the cooling shelter of the darkness...he could hear the slight edge to the words, somehow sense the very real despair lurking just beneath the surface...and the longing. The longing in Nuriko's voice bit into him like sharpened teeth, made him wince in real, honest pain. Because, Nuriko was hurting...and, it was all because of HIM.
Before he had a chance to get a better of a grip on his thoughts, Nuriko had overcome the sudden silence and was stumbling onward, and Hotohori could practically see those pale cheeks flushing a bright red, those slim fingers kneading nervously in front of him. His voice was even and measured again, the traces of that forced smile tugging once more at his lips.
Nuriko cleared his throat. "That is...I was waiting for you to tell you that Chichiri and the others wanted to talk to you, before you went to bed...Heika."
The word almost felt like an insult. After all they'd been through...after all they'd shared...to be called "Heika" now, by this man...it was a slap in the face, and more proof--if he needed it--of the fact that he'd somehow struck a nerve with Nuriko, that the secretive young man was pulling out all his concealing tricks, doing his best to cover that darkened longing the best he could...but, of course, it was too late. He'd heard...he'd understood. He wondered, briefly, if Nuriko himself understood.
But...he couldn't think about this now. Nuriko mattered to him, yes...but, there was Miaka to deal with, and the other seishi...yes. Nuriko would have to wait.
"Hai," Hotohori said firmly, nodding slightly in thanks. "Arrigato, Nuriko."
Then, without another word, the younger man turned, pressed one slim-fingered hand to the wall, and began the long, touch-and-feel trek back to his chambers. It wasn't until he reached the welcoming warmth of his rooms that he remembered the moment, today, when he and Nuriko locked gazes across the glowing brilliance of the ceremonial chambers, identical streams of salty tears streaking over their cheeks, joining them in a single, unstoppable moment of understanding and joint strength.
It had been a strange moment...and Nuriko the last person he would've expected to share it with.
Demo... Hotohori shook his head, settled into the depths of his chair and closed his eyes. Demo...Nuriko was a man. He would just have to let him down easily, somehow explain that he loved Miaka--always would. Hai...that was what he would do. First thing in the morning, of course. He groaned inwardly, suddenly remembered what Nuriko had said about the other seishi waiting for him, wanting to talk to him... Groaning softly under his breath, the young emperor rose to his feet. He spent a moment smoothing out the thick fabric of his robes, then set out into the darkened shadows of the night once more, eyes trained on the far-off glint of lamplight coming from Chichiri's bedroom.
He moved swiftly...and never noticed the eyes following him through the darkness...or the soft murmurs of footsteps just behind him.
~*~*~*~
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, ANOTHER author's note. *sweatdrop* Hehe. Isn't the title nice and sappy? *sniffle* Took me forever to think of it...I may change it...eh, anyway. I'm liking how this fic is going...and, since I've had a severe case of writer's block all day, I'm extreeeeeeemely glad I was able to make something coherent of this. ^_^. *ahem* But, anyway. Since you're already the whooooooole way down here, let me know what you think. And, if you absolutely hate it, don't worry. I like flames. They provide enough warmth to heat a modestly-sized home through most of the bitter winter months...plus, if you angle them correctly and channel the heat JUUUUST right, it's possible to create splendid dishes of scrambled eggs and other such small foodstuffs. *clears throat lightly* But, anyway. Review. I'll lavish you with kisses...or...*cough*...well, maybe I'll just thank you. Hrm. Yeah. Bye-bye. :) -Ryuen