Fate Fate copyright 1998 to L'Arc~en~Ciel.
Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.

HI:FIRE

There are five ways of attacking with fire. The first is to burn soldiers in their camp; the second is to burn stores; the third is to burn baggage trains; the fourth is to burn arsenals and magazines; the fifth is to hurl dropping fire among the enemy.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

"Monseiur BeauSeigneur?"
"Speaking," I answered in French. "Who is this?"
"This is Pierre Clouveau, from your the company branch in Maine."
"Of course," I maintained. Maine? Why would they be calling me?
"You were scheduled to come to Maine tomorrow, were you not?"
"Yes." I frowned, scooting my chair closer to the desk and rolling the mouse in little circles on the computer screen. "Is there a problem?"
A dry chuckle. "No. In fact, Monseiur, there is in fact an absence of problem. You were called to come over to meet with one of our candidates, but the candidate decided to sign early and therefore your trip here has been moved."
"Moved?" I didn't like the sound of that.
"Yes. Tomorrow you will be going to Okinawa instead of to Maine."
Silence.
"Monsieur?"
"Okinawa?"
"Yes, Monseiur. There is a client there that wants to meet with you and I told him that you would be arriving tomorrow at your earliest possible convenience."
"I see."
"Do you object?"
Object? Hell yes, I objected. I had prepared myself for a two day stay in Maine, had told Jeff exactly what to do in event of emergency or if he needed anything. The poor guy knew no French and he had already expressed discontent with me leaving for two days. A trip to Japan would take a week at least, and who knows what could happen in a week?
"No. I will be glad to go."
"Glad to hear it. I'll switch your tickets now and email you the new information."
"Thank you."
The other line clicked shut and I was left with the receiver in my hand, staring at the blue computer screen and wondering just when my life had become this complicated.
"Well."
A small poster fluttered down from the wall of my cubicle. It showed a man climbing a cliff, gear strapped on clinging tenaciously to the sheer, frozen sides of the giant.
Perseverance, it read. What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.
"Shit."


"Ah…Monsieur Cotorro? Monsieur!"
I stopped in the hallway, flute case in one hand and stand in the other. "Yes?"
The little old woman hurrying up to me looked more like a secretary than a world-famous oboist, She was waving to me frantically and I smiled despite myself. With her polka-dotted skirt and bright red top, she looked exactly like an old lady from a eighties film noir movie.
"Staff wants to see you as soon as possible."
I retraced my steps down the hallway of offices, wondering what the staff of the college wanted with me now. They had just called me in two hours ago to fill out some forms, with the aid of a translator, since I could not understand a word of French.
Which was a problem.
Stephan was leaving for Maine tomorrow and I still wasn't sure I could manage the city of Paris by myself. Sure, most vendors spoke English, but I still felt out of place asking directions and hoping the one I was asking could understand. It was embarrassing.
I spoke Spanish and English and a little Gaelic, but French had never been one of my strong points.
I turned and retraced my steps down the red-tiled hallway to the staff officer. The spectacled receptionist was on the phone and the copy machine was humming. It felt like a dentist's office. Glancing around and making sure no staff member was out to get me for now, I lowered himself into one of the small chairs and picked up a music magazine off the center table.
A cough.
"Monsieur Cotorro?"
I looked up warily. Dark eyes gazed back at me out of a severely lined face and hair pulled back into a tight bun. The face of the principle academy flutist was not pleased.
"Monsieur Cotorro," she said in her heavily accented English. "We must talk."
I blinked at her for a second. Talk? I didn't like the sound of that. This talk was probably not about me being spot promoted to principle flutist, and outside that topic, I would rather not talk with the principle flutist in any way.
The office was freezing, and the fact that it was nearing November and the first snows had arrived the day before did nothing to warm the bleak room. I felt my nose starting to run and fished in my pockets for a kleenex. A few coins. A pad of cigarette paper. No kleenex.
Just my luck.
"Please have a sit."
I smothered my laughter at her English and sat down in one of the hard metal chairs in front of her desk. The principle flutist sat as well, looking for all the world like a librarian instead of one of the best musicians in the city of Paris. She folded her hands in front of her. I felt like I was a prisoner of war in an interrogation cell.
"This may be sudden, Monsieur, but we have suddenly developed a need for musicians in Japan. The board has nominated you to be one of the flutists at the music school in Tokyo."
The clock's ticking suddenly became very loud in the silence, and I took a deep breath, counted to ten before I opened my mouth. It took a few more seconds before my vocal cords would actually vibrate enough for speech to be attempted.
"Why yes, Madame. This is a bit sudden."
She didn't catch the caustic tone in my voice. All for the better.
"Of course, but it is for the best. If you choose to go, you will be one of the pioneers in our school…"
I let her ramble on, not catching half of what she was saying in her heavy accent. I had heard of the opening of the music school in Tokyo for a while-it had been in the conservatory news almost daily-but I'd never thought I'd actually be traveling to Japan. All I wanted was to stay in Paris, maybe learn a little French, relax in Stephan's spacious apartment, and basically be lazy for a year or two.
I deserved this break.
"Do you accept?"
I really needed this break. Stephan would be in Maine…I could take a few days off…go explore the Parisian night life, have a beer or two, pick up some French girls. Well, maybe not. Even lying on my bed and flipping channels was sounding good.
"You may have several days to reflect upon the matter. Do not have worry, Monseiur, we will not-"
There was a flash of blue light through the window and I swore I could see the reflection of scales upon the glass.
A pull. Seishi to seishi to miko to god.
"I'll do it," I said suddenly. "Count me in. Whatever."
Her words stopped in mid-sentence, and now it was her turn to stare at me in stunned silence. The expression on her face was actually quite comical and I couldn't help but laugh.
"This is no laughing matter, Monseiur Cotorro!" Her voice was sharp and cutting. Dark eyes glared at me.
"No…" I choked out between convulsions. "I'm not laughing at that. Honestly."
She didn't look convinced. "This is one of the most daring things we have ever done. It is a great step in the history of music. It is imperative that you understand this."
"I understand," I said, calmly now. My mind felt like it had suddenly gone numb in the last five seconds and yet I didn't take back my words. It seemed only natural that I would be leaving Paris only a few weeks after I had arrived, flying to Japan. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It was that pull. I had felt it before. When Nakago had sent me off to die.
"I'm ready, Madame," I said. "Anything you want to throw at me, I can take."
She looked at me as if I had gone insane.
To tell the truth, I wasn't entirely sure I hadn't.


I was standing in the kitchen washing the dishes, listening to Taka fiddle with the radio as it fizzled in and out with static fuzzing at the edges.
"We need a new one," he muttered, staring out the window darkly. "This thing sucks."
"Well then," I said calmly, wiping my hands. "Get one."
"They're expensive!"
"You're just cheap."
He didn't reply, just muttered to himself and returned to fiddling with the knobs. I suppressed a smile. No matter what he called himself now, Taka had not changed.
"Stingy."
He glared at me.
I laughed, watching him, his dark head bent over the ancient piece of electronics, hands gently twisting the knobs on the front. He was a man down to the very definition of a man, stubborn, strong, passionate, gentle, kind, loving.
My good mood faded away as quickly as it had come. Miaka was lucky to have Taka. It wasn't every day that a man like him came down from heaven and landed in a girl's lap. Literally. Well, it was more like Miaka had landed in his lap, but it was all the same to them.
Steven had phoned me, explaining in a broken voice that Jeff's line didn't seem to exist anymore. I had tried calling, and had gotten the same electronic voice. I didn't understand. First answering machine calls that were never returned, then a disconnected phone line. It was like Amiboshi had disappeared off the face of the earth.
I heard the panic in Steven's voice when I talked to him just three days ago, and I could well understand why. It was happening all over again, he thought, his aniki leaving him alone, disappearing into the wilderness of the world without a trace. But this time, he might lose his brother before he had ever found him in the first place.
I was afraid for Steven, afraid that he would suddenly revert back into the little lost boy that Suboshi had been. In the hopelessness of his voice, I knew he remembered everything with a vivid clarity that frightened both him and me. And it was the possibility that everything might just happen all over again that was the most frightening of all.
I didn't need another Shin Jin Ten Chi Sho.
I wanted it to be over. Forever.
"There!"
Taka's triumphant shout reverberated through the kitchen and I rolled my eyes.
"Taka, it's a radio."
"I FIXED it!"
The authoritative voice of the local news station weatherman rolled into the sunny kitchen.
"A typhoon warning is in effect for all local areas, including Tokyo. Typhoon Hikaru is heading north from Taiwan and could strike Japanese shores in a day or less. More information upcoming."
Taka peered out the window at the sky. "It looks fine to me."
"Baka."
The phone rang. Taka lunged for it. "I got it!"
I heard Miaka's voice across the house. "I got it! I got it!"
"Moshi moshi?"
I watched as Taka listened for a few moments, then as his expression grew puzzled. "Ah." He took his ear from the receiver and he looked a little panicked as he handed the phone to me.
"Yui, it's for you. It's in English. I can't speak English!"
I couldn't help snickering as I took the receiver from him. "Hello?"
"Yui Hongou?"
"Speaking . Who is calling, please?"
"Yui, this is Phillip Cartwright. Remember me?"
"Phillip!" I was grinning. From the corner of my eye I could see Taka frowning at me, but I didn't care. "Where are you?"
"You'll never believe this,": came the crackly voice from the other end of the line. "But I'm about 28 miles from where you are."
The words took a few seconds to sink in. "You're in Japan?"
"Right on!" He sounded pleased with himself. "I got transferred to Yokota Air Force Base. Just arrived yesterday and in the process of setting up the office."
"That's great!" Taka was frowning in earnest at me now. I felt giddy. Phillip was here, in Japan. "Can you come visit? Can you get off base?"
He sounded dubious. "I don't know Japanese."
"I can come pick you up! My boyfriend has a car. Well, ex-boyfriend." I grimaced as I tried to cover my slip. "My current boyfriend lives in America."
"Ex-boyfriend? Wait a minute. America?"
I grimaced again. "Long story. I'll tell you when I see you, all right? It has to do with…I'll tell you later." Taka's presence in the kitchen suddenly seemed ominous.
"I have to run," he said suddenly. "I just wanted to call you…it's a local call now, you know that? Not international anymore. Does wonders for my phone bill."
"Yes. Thank you. Call me later when you can come visit," I said, almost giggling. I really was turning into Miaka.
"I will."
A click as he hung up and I slipped the phone back on the hook, turning around to see Taka with his hands on his hips. His face demanded an explanation.
"Yes?"
"Care to tell me what that was all about?"
There were footsteps in the hallway and Miaka was at the kitchen, bounding to Taka's side. "Yui-chan! I heard you laughing! Who was it?"
Apparently me laughing was unheard of these days.
I looked over at them: Taka's serious face and Miaka's smiling, cheerful one. What did they have that I didn't? What had they done right that hadn't?
It was a great mystery.
"Yui, what's going on?"
Well. I had known it would come sooner or later, and there was no putting it off now. Suzaku and Seiryuu had to meet sometime, right? Better I tell them than they find out from someone…say…Phillip Cartwright.
Miboshi.
"Taka? Miaka? I think you'd better sit down." I sat on one of the padded kitchen chairs and watched as they warily did the same. Miaka was looking curious now, and Taka simply looked grim.
"This could take a while."


The map on the wall flickered out of existence as the commercial break clicked on. I clattered down the stairs of the stage. The huge golden news station symbol gleamed on the wall.
"That went well," the assistant cameraman said, giving me a smile. I smiled back.
"That typhoon isn't looking too good," said Yuan from the far wall where she was sitting. Yuan was the new weather assistant, fresh out of school, long black hair tied up in a bun, liquid brown eyes giving her the look of an innocent deer. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five.
"It's not." I reached my seat, took a drink of water. "If it continues this way, it's going to hit Tokyo."
"Should we issue a warning?"
I shook my head. "We have a few days wait."
"I just don't want a disaster on our hands, Hong."
"Don't worry," I soothed. "It will be fine. It will probably veer out east in a few days anyway."
The intercom squealed. "Hong Lee, call on line one."
Who could be calling me at this hour? I flashed a quick wave to the crew clustered around the news desk and then made my way to the outer lobby. A secretary sitting at the desk indicated a free phone, and I picked it up, hoping it wasn't the credit card company. I had been overdue on my payment for about three months now.
"Hong Lee speaking."
"Hey, this is Andy Wong."
"Andy!"
"How are you?"
"I'm wonderful," I said, grinning. "I haven't heard from you in forever."
"It's great to talk to you too. Listen, I can't talk long, but I was just wondering if maybe you were interested in a trip to Japan. I'm going to be touring there, and I wanted to visit Miaka and Taka and Duke."
"When?"
"Next few days sound good? Sorry this is short notice, but Pedro was visiting in Portugal and he was going to fly to Hong Kong and then we were going to go, but he had an emergency at home and so he had to go back to Brazil."
I smiled. It would be nice to see Miaka and Taka again. "So I'm backup choice, right?"
Andy laughed. "Something like that. Are you in?"
They wouldn't be needing me for the next week of work. Yuan could fill in…she had the training. It was time I took a vacation.
"I'm in,' I said, and then couldn't resist adding, "No da."
Andy laughed again. "You know what, Chichiri? You look a hell of a lot better without the mask."
"I know." A thought struck me. "Do you think Denis would be interested? He's coming to Beijing tomorrow on some business."
"Denislav?" Andy chuckled. "Where would we be without our red-headed bandit? Sure, call him and invite him. I'll pay for the plane. It's a private charter anyway."
"I'll tell him then. I have to get back to my station."
"I understand," Andy said. "I'll call you tonight if I have the chance. Good talking to you, Hong."
"You too."
I handed the phone back to the receptionist. That typhoon was really not looking good. A trip to Japan right now might not be the best of plans.
I'd always been too cautious.
Get out, Hong. Have some fun. Stop being so serious.
That was it. I needed to stop being so serious. A trip to Japan would do me good.
I stopped halfway to the door to the station room, retraced my steps to the receptionists' counter, and picked up the phone to call Denis.


The bonfire crackled high and I lowered myself onto the sandy gravel, sitting just close enough that the leaping flames warmed my skin and bathed the surrounding area in a surreal orange glow.
Footsteps crunched next to me and a shape settled itself next to mine out of the shadows.
"Marco," I said by way of greeting.
"Nikolas," he said in return. I smelled the aroma of freshly roasted meat and looked over to see him biting into a large drumstick.
"Good," he said, when he saw my look. "You want one? They are free over at the meat stand."
I shook my head. 'I'm not hungry just yet. Maybe later."
We sat in silence for a while, listening to the happy laughter of other performers and festival patrons and the strains of faint music coming from the night beyond.
"Where are you going after this?" Marco said, polishing off his drumstick. "Today was the last day of the Greek Festival, was it not?"
I nodded. "Might just go back to Greece. Markos has this crazy idea in his head to tour in Eastern Europe and Asia, but I doubt it. It's too expensive and I don't think Asians appreciate Greek drama too much."
"It would be nice to go to Japan," Marco said wistfully. I caught the hidden meaning in his voice.
"Yes," I said. "It would." Someday.
Nakago was in France. I was not sure I wanted to see him again. I didn't know if I loved him anymore…how could I love a man I had never seen? I had not heard his voice in a lifetime. I wanted to see him.
"You're thinking about Nakago-sama, aren't you?"
I jumped. "How did you know?" I demanded, my private pride damaged.
Marco just laughed. "Wolves have sharp senses."
"You're not a wolf."
His expression grew serious and with one swift motion he threw the gnawed drumstick bone into the bonfire. It sparked before subsiding, becoming a part of the great blaze.
"I dream, Nikolas."
I didn't ask him what he meant.
There were footsteps by me again and but I didn't look up, seeing the pair of worn patent leather schoolboy shoes come into focus.
"Evening, Markos."
"So you want to go to Japan?"
I blinked.
"Who said anything about Japan?"
"I did," he said cheerfully, squatting and grinning at me and Marco, who was looking at both of us with a smile. "I called around and there's some club or organization at the University of Tokyo who would love to see us perform. The pay's not bad either."
I sighed. "Markos, how are we getting there?"
He shrugged. "We have money for plane tickets. I hope."
"We barely have enough after what we made in Italy!"
"We'll use that then."
"You're insane."
"Don't tell me you don't want to go."
I fumed in silence, knowing he had me there, and he laughed. "See?"
"Damn it, Markos, this isn't a game. We're a company and we need to carry on business like a company. This isn't some one-man show."
"Of course it's not," he said earnestly, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'm consulting you, aren't it?"
I rolled my eyes, unable to think of a suitable caustic reply, and he laughed again and stood up. "We're leaving tomorrow for Japan. I booked the tickets a few days ago. They have special company rates, you know. We got priority."
I watched in silence as his form faded into the darkness again, watched the bonfire spark and leap.
"I suppose you are going."
"Well of course I'm going," I muttered. "I have no choice, do I?"
"Good. Then I won't be alone."
"Ye-What?"
I turned to look at Marco. The man had a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.
"Your Markos invited me along to be prop director. We finished our work on the Sistene Chapel so we are free. And I wanted to go to Japan. I felt like I had to go."
"You too, huh?" I murmured.
He nodded, eyes glittering. "Seishi to miko to god. That's how it has always been, hasn't it? Fate."
I sighed, the sound blending with the whispering of the wind and the roar of the fire. The endless cycle. The unbreakable chain.
"I know. I can't help think that sometimes we are just pieces on a game board. For the gods to move at will."
Marco cocked his head. "What makes you think that we are not?"
I shook my head slowly. "Nothing. Just sometimes…I wish I did not believe in fate. I wish my life were mine to live."
In the fire I could see my life unraveling before me.
"That's all."