Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
That night, I was plagued by dreams.
There were wolves in my dream, running like water, fur coats streaks of ice in the moonlight. They came up, noses sniffing inquisitively, warily, and I reached out to touch them. I felt no fear.
Free.
The moon was full and bright in the sky and the scent of the hunt was in the air along with the smell of fresh fallen snow, and something in me strained after them as they fled far over the hills, calling.
Free.
Why are you frightened, brother?
I looked into my mind and saw images of fire and water and ice and then I looked into my heart and saw stone.
I want to be free.
Free.
I don't know what it's like…to be free.
Far away, the wolves howled.
"Yui?"
Steven's voice sounded crackly and strange over the phone. He had gone home two days ago, back to college, and I had strain my ears to make out his words.
"Yes? Sorry, the connection's bad."
"I know." He sounded apologetic. "Long distance here isn't the best."
"What did you want to know?"
"Uh…" I could hear a trace of the old Suboshi in his voice. Not a good sign.
"Come on. Spit it out."
"I was wondering…if you'd heard from my brother."
I winced. I knew it was coming sooner or later…there was no avoiding it this time.
"No."
The confusion in his voice was audible. "But I thought you said you were going to call him."
"I did," I said. "Every time I called him, he wasn't home and I left a message on his answering machine. But he never called me back."
It was true. I didn't know why. I wasn't calling the wrong number…the message clearly stated cheerfully that this was Jeff and Mike's apartment, and to please leave a message after the beep, which I dutifully did. I called once every few days, just to make sure. I knew Steven was counting on me. But Jeff never called back.
"I-"
"You want me to give you his phone number?" Why hadn't I thought of that earlier? "You can call him."
"But, I…o-okay," he agreed, as I reached for the small notebook in my desk drawer.
I read out the number twice for him and waited for him to copy it down. When he indicated he was finished, I stuffed the book back into my drawer.
"Steven, I have to go. I need to finish my homework and then I have a meeting."
"Okay. Wait, Yui-"
I heard the panic in his voice again. "Yes?"
There was a silence. "Yui…Yui-sama…"
I clutched the phone with both hands. "Steven, what's wrong?"
"What if…what if aniki doesn't answer?" His voice dropped to a pained whisper. "What if…he's dead?"
His voice cracked on the last word and I felt like crying. "Suboshi, he's not dead. I believe he's not dead. He's alive, and he's waiting for you. Somewhere."
"I-" A frustrated sigh. "I wish I-"
"Steven, call him."
I could almost see him on the other end, not wanting to hang up, eyes large and wide and full of tears.
My aniki. They killed my aniki.
"I love you, Yui."
There was a click and the line went dead. I was still holding the phone to my ear, feeling my heart pounding.
My fault. It was all my fault. I had driven Suboshi to this, and these were the consequences. If only I…if only I…
"I love you, Steven."
"Did you ever wonder why exactly we were reborn?"
I glanced up at Stephan. His profile was highlighted by the setting sun sparkling on golden hair, strong nose and chin. As I watched, he sipped some of the wine from his wine glass, leaning back in his chair. The wine sparkled too, golden and rich.
I remember the day he called me in to tell me I was going to Konan. His hair had been golden in the light of the many candles that blazed in that small chamber, and when I emerged, Shun was waiting for me, his hair golden in the candlelight also, but a darker gold.
What did he say, aniki? Where are you going?
"What?"
"Why we were reborn," Stephan said patiently again, sipping the wine. The sun dipped lower behind the skyscrapers. "Why we were arrested out of the depraved and utter darkness of eternal damnation and given new wings."
I stared at him. "Uh…"
He laughed suddenly. "No, I'm not drunk yet. I read that line out of a book once. I can't remember the title, but it stuck with me, for some reason."
"I see," I murmured, taking a sip of my water. I had never really cared for wine. I supposed Stephan was different, being French, but I couldn't understand how people could drink the stuff. It tasted like sewer water mixed with ground rocks.
"Seriously, Jeff."
"You're asking me?"
"I want to know." He put down the wine and stared at me, blue eyes shrouded in the sunset. "What do you think?"
I sat back in my chair, chin in my hand. "What do I think? About why we were reborn? I…I don't know. I haven't really thought about it, I guess."
"You should," he said earnestly.
"Well if you've thought so much, what do you think?" The words coming out of my mouth startled me. I would have never dared used that tone, those words with Nakago. But Stephen only smiled wryly.
"You don't want to know."
"Now I'm curious."
He didn't answer for a moment, and I thought maybe somehow I'd offended him. Then he shifted in his chair, looking away from me.
"I used to think," he said in a low voice, "that Seiryuu had brought me back to make me suffer."
Hands clenched on the wooden armrests of the chair. "To suffer for all the sins of my past life…for worshipping Tenkou instead of my true god. For everything I'd done."
He turned back towards me again, but stared at the tabletop, twisting his large hands in front of him. "I wasn't a very good seishi, was I, Amiboshi? I had everything, but I wanted more. And more."
"It wasn't your fault."
He laughed hollowly. "Easy for you to say. How did you feel, when you were running from those Suzaku seishi after they found out you had betrayed them? How did you feel towards me?"
I bit my lip.
"See? You may be quick to forgive, but there are some things that you just cannot forget. And even being reborn, there are some things that can't be righted."
"It doesn't matter," I said.
He was still staring at the tabletop. "What?"
"It doesn't matter. We…" I paused, not quite sure how to say what I was thinking. Not quite sure what I was even thinking. "We're reborn. That's the key, Stephan. We're not the Seiryuu seishi anymore…it's over. You said it yourself, that first day. Second chances, remember?"
Stephan didn't look up.
I sighed softly, gathering up the dishes and taking them to the kitchen sink. The maid was nowhere in sight, but I missed doing the dishes, and the Paris sunset was gorgeous. The golden head stayed bowed the whole time the water ran and I scrubbed and rinsed and stacked.
What could he be punishing himself for? I didn't know if Yui had found the other seishi, but I had received no word from her. She could be anywhere. But he certainly wasn't blaming her for not finding us all, and certainly not…
And even being reborn, there are some things that can't be righted.
I sucked in a breath. Looked at the figure sitting still at the kitchen table. Wondered if I should say it out loud.
"It's Soi, isn't it?"
The head came up and for a second the blue eyes blazed, and I took a step back. But he simply stared at me for a minute and then looked away.
"I saw her, you know. A few years ago. I didn't know it was her." Not affirming what I had guessed, but not refuting it, either.
That was news to me. "No," I said cautiously. "I didn't know."
"I was still new in the business world…just out of college and looking for adventure. I tried everything…I'd been a junkie in high school and part of college before I realized it was either straighten out or lose my degree. I smoked, I drank…I slept around. It was the thing to do, in Paris."
I nodded, coming back around to sit at the table, listening to him.
"I'd had a particularly wild night and most of my friends had already departed with various ladies of the club. I wasn't planning on picking up anyone that night, before I saw her. She just appeared next to me and I looked at her and it was…as if something…clicked into place."
"You didn't remember her?"
"I didn't remember anything. I didn't until I saw Yui in New York. Soi…it was Soi. It had to have been Soi. She had the same red hair, the same features. She felt the same. That aura…I'd know her anywhere. Even if I didn't know her. You know what I mean?"
"Yes."
"It was funny, because as soon as I took her I knew something was wrong. She didn't act like the other women I'd been with over the past few months…I could tell I was hurting her for some reason, but I didn't stop. I wanted pleasure for me. Always for me…"
"Soi loved you."
"I know," he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him. "She was the other half of me. But I couldn't love her. Because…"
He trailed off. I watched him as he ran his fingers through his thick blond hair.
"Because everyone I loved…they died."
Something knotted within me.
"I think I've always loved Soi. And she's dead now. She never even received her second chance. Half of me…it's gone."
"Nakago-sama…"
Suddenly, the blue eyes blazed again. Fingers curled into a fist and crashed on the table. I flinched and the wood shook.
"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!"
He was gone, a whirlwind packed into the frame of a man, stalking from the room and slamming the door behind him in a rare show of temper. I gripped the armrests of my chair hard to stop my hands from shaking.
It's like…half of me was suddenly ripped away.
Outside there were birds flying against the amethyst-tinted storm clouds on which the setting sun rode like sailboat upon rough waters.
No. More like the half of me that was lost has come back.
When Marco Bocelli invited me home for a drink, there was more than a little hesitation in his voice. But we had to start from somewhere, right?
There was no one home when his battered roadster pulled into the slightly rundown country house driveway, and when we stepped out I could immediately smell the difference in the air. The Bocelli residence was about forty-five minutes from the city, in a small farming community, and the stink of pollution and dirty humanity was non-existent here.
"You feel it," Marco said when he saw my reaction. "Out here, it is so free."
The small house was built out of stone, as were the driveway and the walkways. I followed him inside, where a big white dog of uncertain origin greeted me by bounding up and giving me a huge lick on the cheek. I grimaced. I had never liked dogs. Marco simply laughed and batted the huge animal away.
"Eva likes you," he said.
"Great," I mumbled.
He laughed again. It was strange, hearing him laugh. None of us had never laughed, and Ashitare probably never even knew the meaning of the word. But it was strangely liberating to hear it coming from Marco's throat, the big wolfish man with the delicate hands of an artist.
"What would you like? We have many Italian wines."
I waved a hand. "Whatever you choose. I have no preference."
He looked at me strangely.
"What?"
"I do not remember you being this…free. You always had a preference."
I twisted my lip. "That was a long time ago."
He didn't say anything, just opened the door to the wine cellar and descended down into the darkness. Fitting.
Marco reemerged with a darkish bottle of something and poured it into two wine glasses, handing one to me. I raised mine in a silent toast, and he looked at me, questioning.
"To what are you toasting?"
I lowered my glass slightly. "To Seiryuu."
He acknowledged with a slight lifting of his own, and we both drank. The wine was slightly sweet and sour all at once and went down smoothly.
"Cheers," I said.
"Cheers," he responded, smiling again.
We stood for a few minutes in silence. I admired the view outside the back windows of green fields and vegetation. Greece was beautiful, but in a rough and graceful and mysterious sort of way. Italy was simply lush and green and verdant.
"Sorry for calling you on such short notice," I said at last. "My company scheduled this performance at the last minute, and I just thought maybe we should meet…"
I trailed off as he looked up.
"It's quite all right," Marco said calmly. "I was a bit surprised when you called, that's all."
Surprised wasn't the least of it. The Italian had been shocked when I'd said I was Seiryuu shichi seishi Tomo. I smiled at the memory. It had been awkward, the initial conversation. It had gotten better, but I couldn't help feeling I was an intruder into a wolf's domain.
"What are you thinking?"
I shook my head slowly. "Only that I feel like I'm trespassing."
He put down his glass and looked at me curiously. "What do you mean?"
"Like you belong here and I do not. Do you know what I mean?"
Marco closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Trespassing."
"Yes."
"You're not trespassing," he said. "I feel the same way."
That was a surprise. "You do? How?"
He opened his eyes. "We don't belong here, Tomo. You can feel it, can you not? We're not meant to be here."
I swallowed slowly. "Perhaps."
"You don't believe me."
"I've belonged."
"I never have. There's something…calling me."
The look in his eyes unnerved me and I put down my wine glass. Suddenly I itched for the feel of my shin in my hands.
"We were Seiryuu shichi seishi, Tomo," he said. "We're trapped here."
I rubbed my hand along my face, almost expecting to feel the paint beneath my fingertips.
"My friend," I said calmly. "We have always been trapped."
I called that night.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
There was a click.
"We're sorry. The number you are calling has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again, or, dial the operator."
Another click.
I sat there, the line dead in my hands, my mind a blank. It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair.
I had waited a lifetime, and all I had gotten for my pains was a recorded voice.
It was like those T-shirts.
I called my brother and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
Aniki…you said you'd never leave me. Why didn't you come back to me?
Let's stop fighting. Come with me…drink this. You can forget everything.
Everything.
I didn't even notice when I started to cry.
