Disclaimer: Fushigi Yuugi does not belong to me.
Warnings: This fic contains YAOI, so if you don't like it, don't read it. This fic also contains swearing, lime, angst, violence, noncon, and death.
Author's note: The next part should finish this. Thanks to Sicil and Golden Fish for beta reading for me.
Bloodless:
Part 3
The body was prepared and the voices of the long dead faded into the background. For once, the Sibyl was alone. The silence pressed into her, filling her with nothing.
She felt restless and strangely uncertain; the breeze had stilled. Stagnant air filled her lungs; everything smelled of rotting fruit and slow death. Soon, that would all change. Her child would come…he would save her life and bring new power into her to sustain her.
The seer coughed, and dried blood dripped from her smiling lips.
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Tasuki reached out, but there was nothing. No one. He shot up off the ground and scanned the surrounding area. Where had Chichiri gone?
Chichiri was sitting on the rock overlooking the water. He glanced over as Tasuki approached; the mask in his right hand, face down. He was trying to wash the blood off his face and hands, but he couldn't brace himself over the water with his broken hand.
Tasuki sat down next to the monk and gently helped him. They didn't speak. Chichiri just watched him, his eye filled with tired curiosity. Tasuki was covered in dust and emanating sadness; his face was quiet and the touch of his hands, light. Last night, in his clouded dreams that he knew were reality, he remembered rough hands and a face filled with desperation. A bittersweet desperation.
Tasuki was still here, and that was all that mattered. He hadn't run away…he had…
He leaned forward and lightly brushed their lips together. It was barely a touch and Chichiri moved away quickly. He lowered his head and looked down at the mask he was still clutching tightly.
Tasuki closed his eyes, "What we did…"
"I know," Chichiri said, looking up again, "I'm sorry."
Tasuki met his gaze, trying to read the Chichiri's eye, but the face of the monk was veiled, "What are you sorry for? It's not like I didn't let you or anything," he laughed nervously, "I always—"
Chichiri was shaking his head slowly, "Tell me later no da."
Tasuki looked at him, shocked.
"Right now…I don't feel like talking much," Chichiri smiled slightly. His hand started to shake and he dropped the mask into the water. But it didn't matter…all this pain…soon it would be over.
Tasuki grabbed Chichiri's shaking hand, "Well…then don't," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Chichiri
nodded, and the movement dislodged something inside of him. He started to cough. He leaned desperately
against Tasuki, unable to control the spasms inside his lungs. There was new blood on Tasuki's shirt when
he was finished. They both stared at
the blood for a minute, unsure how to act.
Finally, Tasuki pulled the monk closer, "Chichiri…" Chichiri was shaking uncontrollably…and he was so cold…"Yer my family, you know that right? Closer than family."
He felt Chichiri nod against him. …what was he supposed to say now? It was so hard to say goodbye…it only got harder.
He wasn't surprised when the monk managed to figure out what to say for him.
Chichiri raised his head, "Tasuki…this won't be the last time…" he trailed off.
"No!" Tasuki exclaimed, desperate to make Chichiri understand how he felt, "We'll see each other again! Dammit, I'll find you, even if I have to—"
Chichiri tightened his grip on Tasuki's shoulders, cutting off the bandit's words, and pulled himself up into his lap. Their eyes met.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Tasuki's open mouth. He tastes like the ocean, he thought, leaning back.
Chichiri closed his eyes, smiling, and the cool black waters from a thousand different memories closed over his head. It was done.
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She stood, and felt a new strength grow within herself. At last. The body was empty, vulnerable, all its strength spent by her gift. It was empty, but the soul was still drifting nearby.
The seer reached out with arms of wind, and trapped the spirit with her power. It twisted in her grasp and fought.
For a long moment they battled, soul against soul, will against will. But she was hardened by a hundred, a thousand similar battles, and he was weakened by despair.
The wind howled outside the cave and glittering drops of light fell across the walls. The Sibyl gathered the light deep inside herself; she tasted life. It revitalized her, but it was not yet done. His energy alone could not save her.
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"Chichiri?" Tasuki asked, staring at the cold and blood-covered face of his friend, "Are you-- You can't…" His eyes were dry as bone. He should be crying. Chichiri was—he should be—but nothing! Nothing! Suzaku, why? He'd found Chichiri, he'd come, but he'd done nothing.
He should bury him right here. By the rock where they had sat and become friends. Was he alone? He couldn't take it. Why wasn't he crying? He should be bawling like a little girl, screaming at the gods, doing something. Even though it was too late to do anything that mattered. But…for some reason…it didn't feel over yet. Nothing was complete, yet.
It just hadn't sunk in. He remembered Kouji now. How he had told Tasuki to find Chichiri, "Find him."
He had found him. But he had done nothing.
Tasuki remembered the nights he had woken up, dreaming of the others. He had been terrified, the screaming voices of his comrades still ringing in his ears. And he would feel so cold.
Then he would hear Chichiri, and he could sense that the monk was awake, too. They would wait a couple minutes, just listening to each other's uneven breathing. Then Tasuki, or sometimes Chichiri, would quietly get out of his bed. He would cross the small gap separating them and slip into the bed of the other. They rarely said anything.
But Chichiri was always so warm, and he could sleep without dreams just knowing that he was there, alive, next to him.
Eventually they had stopped sleeping in their own beds at all. There was no point, since they would just end up together by the end of the night. He was so warm and comfortable waking up with Chichiri pressed up against him.
They would never talk about it.
Tasuki leaned over and lay a rough hand on Chichiri's face. He was cold. Just like the rest of him.
"Find him"
It was too late to find him now.
A soft glittering dust surrounded Chichiri and covered him in a sheen of gold. Magic. Tasuki could sense it in the air. He tried to brush off the gold, but it was more like light than anything with substance; he couldn't catch it in his hand.
Tasuki stepped back; the gold continued to settle.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked no one in particular.
There was no response.
The dust seemed to sink through the remnants of Chichiri's clothes, obscuring his features from sight.
Chichiri's mouth opened with a gasp.
"Chichiri?" Tasuki asked, his voice cracking.
The golden figure looked at him, terror reflected in his gaze, and whispered, "I don't want to…"
The wind picked up. Chichiri was still talking, but his words were carried away.
Tasuki realized he was crying. He ran over to embrace the impossible miracle that had just occurred. But as he reached out his arms, they met nothing. His hands dissipated the dust, and Chichiri's body was suddenly split in half.
Chichiri opened his mouth in a silent scream, his eye wide in shocked disbelief. Then a strong gust of wind twisted his features and separated him into a million tiny flecks of gold. Tasuki was surrounded by the dust; he was breathing it in, mindlessly searching for Chichiri. The stuff entered his lungs, and burned him from the inside out…
It was so warm…and painful…just as warm and painful as Chichiri…
A voice surrounded him, and was inside him, "Tasuki…"
Tasuki started to cough, "Is that you?"
"I don't want to die…she has me…"
"Who?!"
"…the Wind Prophetess…"
Tasuki coughed, and the magic left him in a rush of air. The dust was swept away from him. He reached out for it, calling, but it was gone.
Dammit. Oh, dammit Suzaku. What the fuck was going on?
"What the fuck's going on?!" Tasuki shouted in the direction Chichiri had disappeared. His lungs and heart still hurt. But…it wasn't over yet. Tasuki started coughing again. By the time he was done his face was covered in tears, and he was laughing.
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Light everywhere…
I'm dead.
I'm
alive, but I should be dead.
I
don't want to die.
The world slowly came into focus.
The room was black, he could barely see, but his other senses were alive and warning him. Something was waiting in the dark…no…it was inside him. Something dark and twisted was inside him, ready to batter down his will again.
Chichiri fell to his knees, exhausted. The weight of his own body bore him down onto the cold stone floor.
A voice hissed from the shadows, "My power…"
His head swung around, searching for the source of the sound.
"My life…come to me…"
"Wind witch?" Chichiri asked, trying to stand and defend himself.
She laughed breathlessly, "I am the seer, child. But you know that."
"…Hai," He searched briefly for some kind of weapon. His hand closed over a small, smooth rock, "But what do you want? Why did you do all this no da?"
"I am dying, lovely fool…" she was close now…he could smell her, though he still couldn't see her. She smelled like an open grave…stale and sickeningly sweet.
Chichiri tried to back away, but his body was frozen. Helpless…
"What a power you have!" she said, brushing her fingers against his cheek, "And what a pretty child you are! I never was able to see you this close before."
He flinched.
But from some opening behind him, light began to filter inside. Her face, frighteningly close to his own, came into focus.
She was beautiful. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and her eyes were soft and kind. He was reminded, briefly, of Kouran. The hair and face were same. But the color and warmth of her eyes reminded him of the Suzaku no Miko herself, from so long ago.
"My new baby," she whispered, drawing closer, "Give me a kiss?"
He shook his head slowly, grasping tightly his only weapon. He hoped desperately that she didn't notice, and that the right opportunity would come. All she needed was to lower her head slightly, right where he could reach it. Then, if he was fast…
The seer smiled, "Maybe I should just take one?"
If he let her then she would be in the perfect position. It was such a small chance, but it was a chance.
"All right no da…"
Behind the shadowy forms of Chichiri and the beautiful woman, the wrinkled corpse of what had once been the seer lay rotting on the floor of the cave. Chichiri's disconnected body lay next to hers, his eyes wide and empty. Scampering figures surrounded his body, healing and fixing up the new host for the Sibyl. If he looked back, he would see them. But his eyes were looking deep into the glare of the witch. He held the rock tightly, but by the time he lifted it, she would have him.
Everything…on a kiss.
END OF PART 3