Only You - 8
~*~
Miaka slept in his bed again the next night, clinging to him at times with such strength that her fingernails left little half-moon indents in his flesh. But, it was all right. The pain was nothing compared to the pain of that monster's claws, surging up through his chest...or, the pain of losing a friend; a brother, of knowing it was all HIS fault now just like as it was all those years ago when Korin--
//No. Don't bring her into it. This is different. I'm not the same person I was then. It's DIFFERENT.\\
And, yet it wasn't. Tamahome had died because of him, just as Korin had. Was that his lot in life? To always survive, but to sacrifice those he loved in exchange? Why did he always have to be the one who survived? It wasn't fair...
"Nuriko?"
He snapped free of the disturbing thoughts, forced a small smile to touch his lips. It was morning again--their last before he, Miaka, and Mitsukake left the others and began the long trek home, and the sunlight was cool and pale on his cheeks, filtered by the streaky glass of the window. Miaka still lay nestled in the crook of his arm, and so he was forced to twist his neck a little painfully to meet her eyes, to stare at her down the length of his nose. "Hai?"
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on a distant spot on the wall, where a small figurine rested on a polished oaken shelf. Now that he took the time to examine it, he noticed that the figure was of a small girl, courtseying cutely with fistfuls of a wooden skirt clutched in her equally-wooden fingers. Miaka's eyes were riveted to it, caught in an unblinking stare that reminded him a little eerily of the glaze Tamahome's death had brought to those eyes. But, no, this was different. This glaze wasn't loss...it was memory.
When at last she spoke, Miaka's voice was small. "Nuriko, I...I think we should take Tamahome back to Konan with us."
The seishi felt a chill run up his spine. Take Tamahome back with them? Was Miaka delusional?? Blessed gods, that was just what they needed, Miaka going into denial and thinking that Tamahome was still alive. What would it take? Dragging her over to the dead body and making her look until she understood? She'd been fine yesterday--why was this happening now?
Seeming, somehow, to notice the older boy's unspoken reaction, Miaka turned, offered the closest thing to a smile she'd managed since That Day. "Iie," she said softly. "I-I don't mean...Tamahome. I mean Tamahome's...his..."
Nuriko closed his eyes. "His body," he whispered. "You want us to take his body back to Konan with us."
Miaka nodded, turning back to the figurine with the hints of anguish in her eyes. "H...Hai. I think he would've wanted to be...buried...with his family."
The familiar agony twisted in his chest at the words. Tamahome's family... Was he with them, now? Had Suzaku shown mercy during those last few moments, let Tamahome be comforted by the knowledge that he would soon be reunited with the ones he'd lived so much of his life to protect? And with that thought, another:
//Will Miaka have to wait until the day she dies to be happy again?\\
Before he had much chance to sort through this line of thinking, Miaka had risen from where she lay, swung her legs carefully over the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the floor. She was dressed in a soft blue nightgown the innkeeper--a plump, kind-faced woman named Kei--had given her after hearing about What Happened. Nuriko still remembered their first run-in with Kei, when he and Tamahome and Miaka had returned from learning the location of the shinzaho and come in to ask for a room. Kei had been working the front desk herself, greying auburn hair tugged up into a loose bun, eyes bright and blue in the fading daylight.
"Oh, what a lovely couple you make!" she'd gushed as they entered, drawing Miaka's and Tamahome's hands into her own in greeting. Nuriko had hung back a bit, still nursing the wound to his shoulder and not much up for conversation, but she'd hurried to his side only a moment later, noticed the slash and immediately begun to gush again. "Oh, look at you, you poor boy! What happened to your arm? Why, look at this blood! Blessed heavens, we've got to get this wrapped before you bleed yourself dry! Come, come, I've got just the room for you three. Sorry it's only one, but business is booming. The room's built for two people, but I'm sure you won't have any troubles. Maybe the happy couple can share a bed, ne?"
Nuriko smiled slightly, remembering the violent blush that had crept into his friends' cheeks at the words. The smile faded, turned bittersweet. Everything had seemed so RIGHT then. Korin's death was behind him, his love for Miaka was a gentle warmth within him, and they were going to get the shinzaho, call Suzaku and bring peace to Konan. For once in his life, everything had seemed RIGHT...and, then, that damned wolf had to leap out from the snow and destroy it all.
No. He sighed lightly, brought his own legs over the bed and stood up, felt his fists clenching unconsciously at his sides. No, not the wolf. It was his teeth and claws that ripped his perfect world to shreds, but that beast hadn't been behind it. No. That had been...Nakago. The name felt vile within him, made him want to scrub his flesh until it burned. It was Nakago's fault. Tamahome's family, that creature attacking them, Tamahome's death...it was all his fault. And, great Suzaku, if it was the last thing he did...
//I won't let him hurt you, anymore, Miaka,\\ he swore silently, the fervor of the words burning in his mind, stretching the anger into something almost palpable. His fists clenched a little tighter. //If it's the last thing I do...I'll kill him.\\
---
~*~
Miaka slept in his bed again the next night, clinging to him at times with such strength that her fingernails left little half-moon indents in his flesh. But, it was all right. The pain was nothing compared to the pain of that monster's claws, surging up through his chest...or, the pain of losing a friend; a brother, of knowing it was all HIS fault now just like as it was all those years ago when Korin--
//No. Don't bring her into it. This is different. I'm not the same person I was then. It's DIFFERENT.\\
And, yet it wasn't. Tamahome had died because of him, just as Korin had. Was that his lot in life? To always survive, but to sacrifice those he loved in exchange? Why did he always have to be the one who survived? It wasn't fair...
"Nuriko?"
He snapped free of the disturbing thoughts, forced a small smile to touch his lips. It was morning again--their last before he, Miaka, and Mitsukake left the others and began the long trek home, and the sunlight was cool and pale on his cheeks, filtered by the streaky glass of the window. Miaka still lay nestled in the crook of his arm, and so he was forced to twist his neck a little painfully to meet her eyes, to stare at her down the length of his nose. "Hai?"
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on a distant spot on the wall, where a small figurine rested on a polished oaken shelf. Now that he took the time to examine it, he noticed that the figure was of a small girl, courtseying cutely with fistfuls of a wooden skirt clutched in her equally-wooden fingers. Miaka's eyes were riveted to it, caught in an unblinking stare that reminded him a little eerily of the glaze Tamahome's death had brought to those eyes. But, no, this was different. This glaze wasn't loss...it was memory.
When at last she spoke, Miaka's voice was small. "Nuriko, I...I think we should take Tamahome back to Konan with us."
The seishi felt a chill run up his spine. Take Tamahome back with them? Was Miaka delusional?? Blessed gods, that was just what they needed, Miaka going into denial and thinking that Tamahome was still alive. What would it take? Dragging her over to the dead body and making her look until she understood? She'd been fine yesterday--why was this happening now?
Seeming, somehow, to notice the older boy's unspoken reaction, Miaka turned, offered the closest thing to a smile she'd managed since That Day. "Iie," she said softly. "I-I don't mean...Tamahome. I mean Tamahome's...his..."
Nuriko closed his eyes. "His body," he whispered. "You want us to take his body back to Konan with us."
Miaka nodded, turning back to the figurine with the hints of anguish in her eyes. "H...Hai. I think he would've wanted to be...buried...with his family."
The familiar agony twisted in his chest at the words. Tamahome's family... Was he with them, now? Had Suzaku shown mercy during those last few moments, let Tamahome be comforted by the knowledge that he would soon be reunited with the ones he'd lived so much of his life to protect? And with that thought, another:
//Will Miaka have to wait until the day she dies to be happy again?\\
Before he had much chance to sort through this line of thinking, Miaka had risen from where she lay, swung her legs carefully over the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the floor. She was dressed in a soft blue nightgown the innkeeper--a plump, kind-faced woman named Kei--had given her after hearing about What Happened. Nuriko still remembered their first run-in with Kei, when he and Tamahome and Miaka had returned from learning the location of the shinzaho and come in to ask for a room. Kei had been working the front desk herself, greying auburn hair tugged up into a loose bun, eyes bright and blue in the fading daylight.
"Oh, what a lovely couple you make!" she'd gushed as they entered, drawing Miaka's and Tamahome's hands into her own in greeting. Nuriko had hung back a bit, still nursing the wound to his shoulder and not much up for conversation, but she'd hurried to his side only a moment later, noticed the slash and immediately begun to gush again. "Oh, look at you, you poor boy! What happened to your arm? Why, look at this blood! Blessed heavens, we've got to get this wrapped before you bleed yourself dry! Come, come, I've got just the room for you three. Sorry it's only one, but business is booming. The room's built for two people, but I'm sure you won't have any troubles. Maybe the happy couple can share a bed, ne?"
Nuriko smiled slightly, remembering the violent blush that had crept into his friends' cheeks at the words. The smile faded, turned bittersweet. Everything had seemed so RIGHT then. Korin's death was behind him, his love for Miaka was a gentle warmth within him, and they were going to get the shinzaho, call Suzaku and bring peace to Konan. For once in his life, everything had seemed RIGHT...and, then, that damned wolf had to leap out from the snow and destroy it all.
No. He sighed lightly, brought his own legs over the bed and stood up, felt his fists clenching unconsciously at his sides. No, not the wolf. It was his teeth and claws that ripped his perfect world to shreds, but that beast hadn't been behind it. No. That had been...Nakago. The name felt vile within him, made him want to scrub his flesh until it burned. It was Nakago's fault. Tamahome's family, that creature attacking them, Tamahome's death...it was all his fault. And, great Suzaku, if it was the last thing he did...
//I won't let him hurt you, anymore, Miaka,\\ he swore silently, the fervor of the words burning in his mind, stretching the anger into something almost palpable. His fists clenched a little tighter. //If it's the last thing I do...I'll kill him.\\
---
