Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
It was windy when I stepped off the plane at the Tokyo airport. I could hear the moaning of the rushing air against the swaying landing ramp. I steadied myself against the wall, trying to keep my balance.
"Come on, Nikolas. It's not that windy."
I glared at Markos' back as he brushed past me, headed towards the gate. The rest of the troupe hauled their bags past me without a glance. I closed my eyes and sighed.
"Nikolas?"
Marco's voice was questioning in my ear. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah, yeah." I lifted my bag. "Was trying to catch my breath, that's all."
The waiting area was large and the troupe had already gathered in one corner, where Markos was handing out hotel arrangements. I already knew I was staying with Marco Bocelli. No one else wanted to stay with the strange Italian man; and I did not blame them.
Outside, the sky was cloudy, occasionally clearing in fitful bursts of sunshine, then whipping against itself in gusts of wind. Marco noted my look.
"They predict a typhoon," he said. "I listened to the weather report earlier."
"Great," I muttered.
"Nikolas? You say something?"
"No."
Markos went back to his dictating and I stared moodily out the window. What I wouldn't give now to see the sparkling oceans of Greece and the dolphins jumping out of the water. To feel the soft dirt beneath my feet. Even to breathe the smoky air of pollution in the industrial part of Athens where I lived. To sink down in the sagging springs of my old bed mattress. Japan was nice, but it just wasn't home.
I had Yui's phone number in my pocket. I had wrestled with myself whether or not to call her. I wasn't sure if she would be happy to see me again, and Marco had not brought up the subject. In the meantime, I suppose I would wrestle with myself some more until I finally had the nerve to do it. It was just a matter of time.
We had been brought to Japan for a reason, and fate was working.
"Nikolas?"
I blinked. The other actors had gathered their bags and were looking expectantly at me. I sighed and picked up mine.
"We going to the hotel?"
"We're going to the train station," Markos said. "We need to register at the University first."
"Oh."
"Don't you ever listen?"
The sky was still cloudy when we emerged out from the airport. Train transportation was crowded and I resorted to standing in the aisle, holding on to the pole with one hand, and trying to balance my duffel bag in the other. The bag was heavy, and it was starting to slip to the right, onto the head of an old woman who rode with her eyes closed, blissfully unaware of the disaster that was about to drop on her from above.
"May I help you sir?"
The voice was of a young man, and the face that appeared next to mine could hardly have been more than sixteen. He was obviously American.
"Yes, please," I said in English, shoving down my pride. There were some things in life that couldn't be gotten around without some sort of help. "I'm sorry for you to bother."
"No bother, sir," he said politely. With some grunting from both of us, we righted the bag, and he extended his hand. "Duke Prio. Professor at Tokyo University, English."
I shook his hand, the strange custom still bewildering me. "Nikolas Seferlis. Stage performer." Then his words hit me. "Professor?"
He smiled. "I don't look it, do I?"
I looked him up and down, taking in his youthful, innocent face, his tennis shoes and backwards baseball cap and t-shirt. "How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen. I graduated from college two years ago." The words were spoken without any sort of boasting. It was the truth, so he told me the facts. "I'm the youngest professor on tenure at the University. Which has its perks, I'd have to admit." An almost angelic smile graced his face.
"I can imagine," I said. A child genius, then.
"Nikolas! This is our stop!"
I stared at the boy again. There was something very familiar about him, though I couldn't pinpoint it. Not so much the face as of the sense. He couldn't possibly be another Seiryuu seishi…Yui had found all of them. But if not, then who?
The train screeched to a stop and I lost sight of Duke in the crowd exiting through the narrow doors. When I was safely off, I scanned the crowd for a reddish head and innocent eyes, but the crushing mob was too thick. Perhaps he was still on the train.
"What are you looking for?" Marcos was by my side, looking out towards the crowd.
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"That boy on the bus," he persisted. "Who was he?"
I hadn't known he had seen me talking with Duke Prio. Marcos had been on the other side of the bus. The wolf senses must be sharp.
"I don't know," I said truthfully. Marcos glanced at me, as if knowing I was hiding something, then shrugged.
"We should go. The group is already outside."
I followed him unwillingly up the steps out of the train station passageway. Looking back for a moment I thought I spotted a flash of copper colored hair, a boy's smile, a sense of familiarity.
But when I blinked, it was gone.
The wind was picking up when we arrived at our hotel. I managed to get out of the cab, dragging my bags out of the seat, and tipping the driver. Beside me, Denis growled, his red hair whipping into his eyes.
"This was not a good idea."
"Blame Andy," I said, slamming the door and watching the taxi hurtle away into the oncoming storm wind. "It was his brainchild."
The hotel was nice enough, nice enough for a popular teenage idol and pop star to consider staying in for a week. I expected us to be over at Taka's house for most of the time, but it never hurt to have a place to stay just in case. The rooms were clean and bright, suites for each of us. As a traveling reporter I had seen all kinds of hotel rooms, but Denis was visibly impressed with the accommodations.
After I had convinced him that no, he had not really died and gone to bandit heaven, I unpacked a little and then called him out of his room to go find a place to eat. I had only been in Tokyo twice, but the small noodle shops on the side of the streets were a favorite of mine. Denis did not look particularly interested when I told him my choice, but then again he had never been in Tokyo before. And he was used to me dragging him around on my "escapades," as he liked to call them.
The shop I chose was small and well-lighted. I had come here once before with Miaka and Taka and Andy, a few months back when I was in Tokyo to cover a minor earthquake. Luckily my friends' house had gotten off untouched, though parts of the city had not.
"The power of Suzaku," Taka said when I had asked him. I had to agree. Even after death, the red phoenix god of Konan was still looking after his chosen ones.
As we ordered our noodles and sipped our (at Denis' urging) sake, I wondered if the Seiryuu seishi were around. If they had survived. If they had been given a second chance, as we had. It was strange to think of them, after all this time.
I asked Denis, and he smirked, flame-red hair sweeping around his head. "You crazy, Hong? The damn bastards are probably rotting in hell, where they belong!"
"Shhh! It's a restaurant, Denis!"
Amber eyes regarded me thoughtfully. "Seriously…you're not really thinking about that, are you? Be glad they're dead." He shivered, expression growing distant.
"I…I don't know."
"Hong?"
I thought of Soi, her sacrifice. Tomo's death there high on the lonely clifftops of Sairou, with the moon as his only silent witness. Of Amiboshi and the smile on his face as he fell slowly below to the river which swept him away. Of Nakago and the painful cry of the dragon I had heard in my ears when he had crumpled to the ground.
Of Suboshi and the woman he had so desperately loved.
There were flower petals in the air.
The waiter arrived with our noodles, but I wasn't hungry anymore, staring out the shop window at the roiling clouds. Denis followed my gaze.
"Doesn't look so good, does it?"
I shook my head. "It's that typhoon. This was a bad time to come."
"So you agree with me."
I glared at him, but my heart was not in it. It was the same…the same as when Yui had called Seiryuu for the first time, the rolling clouds above green and blue and gray and heavy black, moving like a living thing in tortured spirals.
Kaijin.
A feeling struck me, deep inside my chest, and I gasped, bending over.
"Hong…what's wrong?"
"I feel…cold."
Denis rushed to my side, holding me up. I could feel the stares of the other shop patrons, murmured concern.
"Hong! Speak to me!"
I swallowed, concentrated, fought back the ice until I felt under control enough to sit up. "I'm all right. A pain in my chest."
"Do you need to go to the hospital? I can-"
I waved off his concern. The restaurant manager was hurrying over, and I indicated I was all right.
"It's not that kind of pain." I smiled weakly at Denis. "I have enough of my memories to know the difference."
I watched as he frowned, puzzled, then as his eyes widened in understanding. "Something's happening? Miaka? Taka?" He jumped up from his seat, spraying soup everywhere. I rolled my eyes.
"Denis! Nothing is wrong…..yet. I-"
I stopped. Turned my head. Blinked.
"Hong?"
I had sworn I had seen a tall figure and a flash of blond hair in the streetlights, but maybe it was just my imagination…
They could have turned down that street there. The cold feeling followed me. I felt a pull.
"Denis, get up. We're going hunting."
I walked with Jeff down the streets of Tokyo, both of us feeling ill at ease. Neither of us spoke any amount of Japanese. Jeff seemed the worse off, slim form huddled in his coat, trying to escape the wind which was rapidly picking up around us. The radio had said something about a typhoon.
"Stephan…"
"What is it?" I said absently, looking around at the bright lights, so like and unlike New York and Paris. The major cities of the world. I could say I had been to another one now.
"Are you hungry?"
I glanced down at him. He was looking rather pale, and shivering.
I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Jeff, are you all right?"
"I…I feel cold."
I indicated my own coat, and he shook his head. "Not like that. Cold…cold….you understand?" He pointed to his chest, an indication of a feeling spreading through his body.
I nodded slowly. "Do you know why?"
"I…"
"Come on, Jeff." I turned him around, back to where we came. "There was a noodle shop on the corner. Maybe we can get some food there and warm up, and then you can tell me."
He nodded, not speaking, and we retraced our steps back towards the intersection, going slowly. Pedestrians shot us odd looks as we passed. I ignored them.
Jeff was shaking by the time we reached the mouth of the intersection and the walk light was red. I steadied him with an arm around his shoulders, trying to shelter him as best as I could from the wind that was now beating at our backs. Wondered who would be this insane to go out on a night like this.
The walk light blinked and we started crossing. There were only two other people crossing from the other side, striding as if they were in a hurry. I couldn't see their features in the flashing lights.
Jeff stopped.
"Jeff?" I pulled at him. His eyes were huge, ghastly, staring straight at the two who were appraoaching across from us.
I saw them. Red hair, almond shaped eyes. I could imagine the tessen in his hand, his wild expression as the fire poured from heaven. The other had changed, but his aura remained the same. An aura of magic and power and things unknown and unspoken.
They had stopped, too. Jeff took a step forward, out of my supporting grasp. The traffic noises dimmed in my ears and the light seemed to fade. I felt cold.
A whisper from the one who had once called himself Chichiri, Suzaku shichi seishi, echoing as loudly in my ears as any shout ever could.
"Nakago…You came back…?"
Marco and I had thrown our things into our room and decided to roam around the hotel a bit. I had asked Markos if he wanted us back any time soon, and he shook his head, laughing.
"Go anywhere you want. We're having a meeting tomorrow morning at eight, but until then it's all yours." His hand had clapped my shoulder. "Have fun, Nikolas. You need it."
I glared at him as he walked away and Marco grinned wryly.
"You two have an odd relationship."
I grunted. "It's that love-hate thing. I don't know why I put up with it."
Marco regarded me as I turned back to him, and I frowned. "What?"
"You love him?"
I blinked. "Oh! No, not like that! He is a friend….a good friend, but just a friend. I-"
"You still love Nakago, then."
It was said matter-of-factly, calmly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. My stunned expression simply made him smile gently.
"How-How did you-"
"A wolf is more observant than you would think, Tomo-sama."
I shook my head, starting to walk down the hall towards the elevators. Marco followed me, saying nothing. I don't think I could have taken it if he had decided to pursue the subject further. It was something I had not thought about. Did not want to think about, because it would bring me only pain.
The elevator stopped at the bottom floor and we exited, looking around. There was some sort of formal function going on in the ballroom across the hall. The sign was in Japanese.
"What does it say, Nikolas?"
" 'Military Ball,' " I read slowly. " 'Officers of Yokota Air Force Base, Japan.' "
Marco blinked. "I did not know there was an Air Force Base here."
"Just a short distance from Tokyo," an American voice said over our shoulders.
I turned around to get a better look at the newcomer. He was short, stocky, dressed in military mess dress, long elegant blue coat with silver ranks on the shoulderboards and black bow tie contrasting smartly against white starched shirt. I held out my hand, remembering the American custom.
"Nikolas Seferlis. And you are…?"
He stared at me. I could see Marcos frowning.
"Tomo?"
I felt my mouth drop open in shock. The officer's eyes were wide and he backed away a few steps, still staring. "Tomo? Is it you?"
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"My name is Captain Phillip Cartwright…but I think you knew me by a different name….Seiryuu shichi seishi Miboshi."
The world spun around me and the lights of the hall dazzled my eyes.
"You are Tomo…aren't you?" His voice was urgent, pleading.
Marco's hand on my shoulder steadied me. "He is Tomo," he said, "And I am Ashitare."
The shock I expected from Phillip Cartwright was there. "Ashitare?"
Marco smiled. "You did not expect that, did you?"
The officer's mouth worked a few times, and he shook his head. The poor man was about to go into shock. I removed Marco's hand from my shoulder, feeling the familiar sardonic tone come into my voice as I spoke, taking his big hand in my own to shake it firmly.
"It's a long way from home, Phillip. We're glad you could come."
I called Steven that night.
Miaka and Taka had gone to bed already, though it was only ten o' clock. Outside the darkened window, the wind howled in the clouded night sky. I could not see the moon.
They had taken the news better than I expected, about my seishi and theirs probably meeting in the world at some point and time. After all, Taka had already met Suboshi and it had not gone as badly as it could have.
I hoped.
I had a dream last night about the end of the world, a great flood and a powerful storm and that Tokyo was falling down. I heard Steven calling my name but I could not see him, the voices of my other seishi crying out in terror. And the distant roar of a dragon.
When I awoke, the absence of sunlight had weighed down upon the room like death.
"Steven, this is Yui."
"Hi." He sounded tired, drained.
"Did I wake you up?"
"No…I was studying. Physics. It always makes me tired."
I tried to smile. "Listen, Steven. Do you mind coming over here for a couple of days?"
Silence on the other end. "Why do you ask that?"
"I…I don't know. Something. Call it a premonition."
"I don't know if I can get out of school for this…."
"You have a plane ticket to Tokyo, right?"
"I was going to use it next week though. I don't know if they'll let me switch."
"They will."
"You're so sure?"
"I'm sure."
He sighed. "Yui…look…I…"
I cut him off. "Don't explain. You can explain when you get here. I'll explain when you get here. Please, just come."
"I can't promise anything, Yui."
"Please."
"I need to study."
I sighed. "Call me later."
"I love you."
I hung up. Outside the window there was terror and storm and death. Inside, there was only nothingness.
I felt nothing.
