"Clover and Lilacs" - continued from 1
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Part I (continued): Farewell, Miaka...Forever
Segment 2: Unexpected Intrusion
~ ~ ~
The soft thudding of Hotohori's footsteps faded away...and, Nuriko was once again alone. The young seishi let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, sank back down to his place on the hard wooden boards of the walkway. A moment later, he'd drawn his legs up to his chest, enwrapped them with the steady presence of his arms...and rested his chin lightly on the edge of his knees.
"Baka," he whispered, his voice echoing softly through the thick silence of the night. "Honto ni. Baka."
He sat there for a few moments longer, gazing up into the far-off glimmer of the night sky, the soft, cool breeze of the night wind sweeping over his skin, brushing the dampened hair back from his forehead... He closed his eyes, drew in a long, sweet breath. The imperial gardens rested just beyond the walkway, far at the end of the immense palace lawn...but even from such a distance, he could catch the faint scents of lilacs blooming in the darkness, of pine and earth and cherry blossoms...of the salty, moistened tang of the river. Nuriko drew in another long breath, let it out very, very slowly through his nostrils. Each breath calmed him more and more, sent the nervous sweat fleeing from his palms, the churning anxiety fading from his stomach. He was going to be all right. Even if he'd just made an idiot of himself in front of the only man whose opinions mattered to him...it was going to be all right.
He was just gathering his thoughts together and rising to his feet...when, abruptly, a cry from just behind him made him freeze, muscles tensed and eyes wide. He stared into the thick darkness, barely breathing, barely moving, only looking...searching...it was another moment before the sound was repeated.
Nuriko drew in a sharp breath. Miaka...!
He turned and shoved the door open with all his strength...with the unfortunate result of the door flying off its hinges, going smashing into the wall before it fell with a crash to the ground. He winced at the sound...but, there was no helping it. He stared into the darkened room with wide, anxious eyes, the breath gasping in and out of his lungs, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest.
"Miaka?" he called into the darkness. He took a few steps, thought he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner. "Miaka, doushita no?"
It was quiet. Much, much too quiet. Suddenly regretting announcing his presence to whatever might lie in the darkness, Nuriko slid carefully away from the soft light of the doorway, pressed his back against the wall and drew in a short breath. Nothing seemed to be moving in here right now...but, he could sense something...tingling at the back of his neck like a whisper...yes, something was here...someone was here. But, Miaka...gods, was she all right?
He'd been standing there, back resting lightly against the wall, for a few seconds when, abruptly, there was a flurry of movement from just ahead of him...and, suddenly, something thudded hard into his stomach, sent his head slamming back into the wall with enough force to make stars flit in front of his eyes. He didn't dare cry out, though...instead, Nuriko ducked low to the ground, sent a fist flying in the general direction of the intruder...and felt his knuckles connect with something hard...armor? Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts any more or try to lash out at the attacker, however, something that felt a lot like the toe of a boot smashed hard into his ribs, sent him tumbling onto his side on the ground. He landed hard, his head crashing against the wooden floorboards, and was forced to lay there for a long moment, trying vainly to fight back the hot, agonizing pain, exploding from his head...his stomach...his chest. The breath rasped in and out his nostrils with audible difficulty, and there was a great, flooding warmth seeping into his lungs, dragging him into a heavy darkness...but, no! No...Miaka...
"Miaka," he managed, crawling up onto his knees, latching onto what felt like the edge of the bedpost and dragging himself to his feet. "Miaka, if you're here, answer me! MIAKA!"
"She can't hear you."
He drew in a sharp breath...and winced, immediately, as the effort of the gasp ripped at the wound in his side, stabbed into his lungs. "You," he hissed. "You...you bastard. Where's Miaka??"
Nakago seemed to smile. "That," he said softly, "is none of your concern." There was a swish of a cape, then, and a brief glow of blue. "You should tell your magician to work on his barrier spells," the man said calmly, the smile twisting tauntingly at his words. "They aren't very effective." The soft aura of blue intensified for a moment, granting Nuriko a brief glimpse of those laughing blue eyes, that thick blond hair...and, then Nakago was gone, and the room was dark once more.
The strength bled out of his legs...and Nuriko fell to his knees on the floor, spent a long moment struggling against the pain...struggling to breathe...and it was then that he realized that it had not been a boot smashing into his ribs, hadn't been a boot at all...no. The blood was hot and slick against his fingers, searing out from the wound in his side...searing out from where the dagger had slid into his chest.
He fell to the floor, let out a heavy breath of anguish...and lay still.
---
Hotohori came to a sudden stop in the center of the walkway, the far-off echo of the crash reverberating loudly in his ears, sending the fearful tingle shivering up his spine...something was wrong...something was very, very wrong...! He turned, tensed his muscles to run...and abruptly became aware of a soft whisper of movement from the side of the walkway, a rustle of cloth and armor...the breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. Someone was in the palace...
Gods, Miaka...!
"Who's there?" he called in his sternest, most imperial voice. A moment later, the sword was free of its sheath and in his hands, glistening softly in the far-off glint of moonlight. "Answer me!"
Before whoever it was had a chance to respond, however, there came a flurry of movement from farther down the walkway, and the sound of many feet thudding inot the wooden floorboards.
"Hotohori-sama!"
He turned reflexively, caught a brief glance of Chichiri and the others running towards him...and, then, there was a rush of footsteps in the darkness in front of him, and the sound of someone running away...by the time Chichiri and his lantern grew close enough to bathe the walkway in a warm, golden glow...whoever had been standing there was gone. Hotohori let out a soft breath, let the sword droop in his fingers.
"Hotohori-sama," Chichiri said breathlessly. "I sense a very strong chi no da...and--"
He broke off, winced as if in pain. Hotohori was just opening his mouth to ask what was wrong...but, then, he felt it, too. It speared into him like a blade, ripped through his chest and sent a numbing, anguished heat roaring over his skin. He stumbled, caught onto the railing...and noticed that the others, too, seemed to be feeling it, were staring wide-eyed and shocked into the heavy darkness.
"Chichiri-san!" Chiriko exclaimed, sounding nervous and a bit fearful. "Did you feel that?"
The monk inclined his head a fraction of an inch, brought a hand to his face and tugged at the mask. "Hai," he answered quietly.
Tasuki took an angry step forward, grabbed onto the blue-haired seishi's arm and shook it lightly. "Well, what the @(#$*&$ does it mean??"
Chichiri swallowed hard. "It means...something's happened to one of us no da."
Hotohori shook his head, uncomprehending. "But, we're all here...except for--" His eyes widened, and a cold, anguished darkness began to claw at his heart, rip into his mind...no... "Nuriko," he whispered.
The young emperor turned and began to run down the walkway, his feet thudding dully into the wooden floorboards, the sword dangling loosely from his fingers. He barely breathed.
Uncertain and fearful, the others followed.
---
---
Part I (continued): Farewell, Miaka...Forever
Segment 2: Unexpected Intrusion
~ ~ ~
The soft thudding of Hotohori's footsteps faded away...and, Nuriko was once again alone. The young seishi let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, sank back down to his place on the hard wooden boards of the walkway. A moment later, he'd drawn his legs up to his chest, enwrapped them with the steady presence of his arms...and rested his chin lightly on the edge of his knees.
"Baka," he whispered, his voice echoing softly through the thick silence of the night. "Honto ni. Baka."
He sat there for a few moments longer, gazing up into the far-off glimmer of the night sky, the soft, cool breeze of the night wind sweeping over his skin, brushing the dampened hair back from his forehead... He closed his eyes, drew in a long, sweet breath. The imperial gardens rested just beyond the walkway, far at the end of the immense palace lawn...but even from such a distance, he could catch the faint scents of lilacs blooming in the darkness, of pine and earth and cherry blossoms...of the salty, moistened tang of the river. Nuriko drew in another long breath, let it out very, very slowly through his nostrils. Each breath calmed him more and more, sent the nervous sweat fleeing from his palms, the churning anxiety fading from his stomach. He was going to be all right. Even if he'd just made an idiot of himself in front of the only man whose opinions mattered to him...it was going to be all right.
He was just gathering his thoughts together and rising to his feet...when, abruptly, a cry from just behind him made him freeze, muscles tensed and eyes wide. He stared into the thick darkness, barely breathing, barely moving, only looking...searching...it was another moment before the sound was repeated.
Nuriko drew in a sharp breath. Miaka...!
He turned and shoved the door open with all his strength...with the unfortunate result of the door flying off its hinges, going smashing into the wall before it fell with a crash to the ground. He winced at the sound...but, there was no helping it. He stared into the darkened room with wide, anxious eyes, the breath gasping in and out of his lungs, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest.
"Miaka?" he called into the darkness. He took a few steps, thought he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner. "Miaka, doushita no?"
It was quiet. Much, much too quiet. Suddenly regretting announcing his presence to whatever might lie in the darkness, Nuriko slid carefully away from the soft light of the doorway, pressed his back against the wall and drew in a short breath. Nothing seemed to be moving in here right now...but, he could sense something...tingling at the back of his neck like a whisper...yes, something was here...someone was here. But, Miaka...gods, was she all right?
He'd been standing there, back resting lightly against the wall, for a few seconds when, abruptly, there was a flurry of movement from just ahead of him...and, suddenly, something thudded hard into his stomach, sent his head slamming back into the wall with enough force to make stars flit in front of his eyes. He didn't dare cry out, though...instead, Nuriko ducked low to the ground, sent a fist flying in the general direction of the intruder...and felt his knuckles connect with something hard...armor? Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts any more or try to lash out at the attacker, however, something that felt a lot like the toe of a boot smashed hard into his ribs, sent him tumbling onto his side on the ground. He landed hard, his head crashing against the wooden floorboards, and was forced to lay there for a long moment, trying vainly to fight back the hot, agonizing pain, exploding from his head...his stomach...his chest. The breath rasped in and out his nostrils with audible difficulty, and there was a great, flooding warmth seeping into his lungs, dragging him into a heavy darkness...but, no! No...Miaka...
"Miaka," he managed, crawling up onto his knees, latching onto what felt like the edge of the bedpost and dragging himself to his feet. "Miaka, if you're here, answer me! MIAKA!"
"She can't hear you."
He drew in a sharp breath...and winced, immediately, as the effort of the gasp ripped at the wound in his side, stabbed into his lungs. "You," he hissed. "You...you bastard. Where's Miaka??"
Nakago seemed to smile. "That," he said softly, "is none of your concern." There was a swish of a cape, then, and a brief glow of blue. "You should tell your magician to work on his barrier spells," the man said calmly, the smile twisting tauntingly at his words. "They aren't very effective." The soft aura of blue intensified for a moment, granting Nuriko a brief glimpse of those laughing blue eyes, that thick blond hair...and, then Nakago was gone, and the room was dark once more.
The strength bled out of his legs...and Nuriko fell to his knees on the floor, spent a long moment struggling against the pain...struggling to breathe...and it was then that he realized that it had not been a boot smashing into his ribs, hadn't been a boot at all...no. The blood was hot and slick against his fingers, searing out from the wound in his side...searing out from where the dagger had slid into his chest.
He fell to the floor, let out a heavy breath of anguish...and lay still.
---
Hotohori came to a sudden stop in the center of the walkway, the far-off echo of the crash reverberating loudly in his ears, sending the fearful tingle shivering up his spine...something was wrong...something was very, very wrong...! He turned, tensed his muscles to run...and abruptly became aware of a soft whisper of movement from the side of the walkway, a rustle of cloth and armor...the breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. Someone was in the palace...
Gods, Miaka...!
"Who's there?" he called in his sternest, most imperial voice. A moment later, the sword was free of its sheath and in his hands, glistening softly in the far-off glint of moonlight. "Answer me!"
Before whoever it was had a chance to respond, however, there came a flurry of movement from farther down the walkway, and the sound of many feet thudding inot the wooden floorboards.
"Hotohori-sama!"
He turned reflexively, caught a brief glance of Chichiri and the others running towards him...and, then, there was a rush of footsteps in the darkness in front of him, and the sound of someone running away...by the time Chichiri and his lantern grew close enough to bathe the walkway in a warm, golden glow...whoever had been standing there was gone. Hotohori let out a soft breath, let the sword droop in his fingers.
"Hotohori-sama," Chichiri said breathlessly. "I sense a very strong chi no da...and--"
He broke off, winced as if in pain. Hotohori was just opening his mouth to ask what was wrong...but, then, he felt it, too. It speared into him like a blade, ripped through his chest and sent a numbing, anguished heat roaring over his skin. He stumbled, caught onto the railing...and noticed that the others, too, seemed to be feeling it, were staring wide-eyed and shocked into the heavy darkness.
"Chichiri-san!" Chiriko exclaimed, sounding nervous and a bit fearful. "Did you feel that?"
The monk inclined his head a fraction of an inch, brought a hand to his face and tugged at the mask. "Hai," he answered quietly.
Tasuki took an angry step forward, grabbed onto the blue-haired seishi's arm and shook it lightly. "Well, what the @(#$*&$ does it mean??"
Chichiri swallowed hard. "It means...something's happened to one of us no da."
Hotohori shook his head, uncomprehending. "But, we're all here...except for--" His eyes widened, and a cold, anguished darkness began to claw at his heart, rip into his mind...no... "Nuriko," he whispered.
The young emperor turned and began to run down the walkway, his feet thudding dully into the wooden floorboards, the sword dangling loosely from his fingers. He barely breathed.
Uncertain and fearful, the others followed.
---