Chapter 11: What Are Friends For?

She stared at him in shock, unable to think of anything to say. Was he saying that he had known who those men were? That he had been the person who had taught those men how to kill?

Evidently, he was.

He suddenly paused, frowning slightly as though he had just remembered something important. Miaka began to feel exceedingly nervous and fought the instinct to shrink back when he eyed her speculatively with an unreadable expression on his face. He was about to do something, she knew, and she was sure she was not going to like it.

Abruptly, he stalked over to her…

…and the next thing she knew, he had scooped her up. She let out a squeak of alarmed surprise when she found herself being lifted bodily off the ground, cradled in his arms.

WHAT IS HE DOING?

He's carrying you because you can't walk, baka! What else does it look like? an irritatingly rational voice in her mind retorted. Her sprained ankle prevented her from walking on her own, and they could not afford to stay where they were much longer… In typical fashion, Nakago had not bothered consulting her before going ahead with his plans. Not that she would have agreed to this particular course of action anyway! Undoubtedly, he had solved the problem in the most practical way, but still…

Miaka felt herself blushing a deep shade of red. They were so close together…so much so that she could see the pulse beating steadily at his throat and feel the warmth of his body through the thin material of his shirt. Her own heart pounded in her ears, so loudly that she was convinced that he could hear it…

"PUT ME DOWN! YOU…YOU HENTAI!" she hissed, her voice rising several octaves in panic. She expected him to comply with her demand and drop her unceremoniously on the ground like he had done before. Hitting the hard dirt would hurt, but it would be better than…than…THIS.

To her complete dismay, the one time she was counting on him to act like the insensitive jerk which she knew he usually was…he chose to disappoint her.

"No."

"What do you mean 'No'? Put me down this instant!" She tried to pry herself out of his grasp. She had no intention of letting him carry her like that…did not want him treating her as if she was an invalid incapable of doing something as simple as walking. I have to prove to him…! More than the embarrassment and unease she felt, her pride refused to ever let him think of her as being weak and helpless.

"It's a simple word, dear Miko," he drawled, his manner both patronising and infuriatingly calm, "Which part of it don't you understand?"

She had been glowering at him for the past half hour, and he was vaguely intrigued by how anyone could maintain the intensity of such a fierce glare for so long. Wouldn't one's eyes start to hurt? He idly wondered how long she could keep it up before she ruptured a blood vessel…

At least she had stopped trying to hit him. She'd pounded her fists half-heartedly against his chest a few times in an attempt to make him release her, but even then, her own compassionate nature had hindered her efforts. Nicholas knew that she could have hit harder if she had really wanted to, but it seemed that she was consciously trying to avoid hurting him at the same time…The corners of his mouth twitched slightly in amusement at the petite study of contradictions in his arms and how distinctly unhappy she looked at the entire prospect of being carried.

A large part of her unhappiness, he suspected, stemmed from the fact that it was He who was doing the carrying. He doubted that she would have protested very much if it had been Taka holding her instead…Given a choice, Nicholas would gladly have handed her over to her precious Tamahome—had the former Suzaku seishi been around—at the first opportunity. He didn't enjoy toting her around any more than she liked being carried by him. Furthermore, his arm was starting to hurt like the devil.

Thankfully, the Suzaku no Miko had settled for giving him the silent treatment once she had realised that nothing she did was going to convince him to set her down. He did not mind her icy silence at all…carrying her was a task far more easily accomplished when she was lying quietly instead of struggling against him and snarling death threats. He had to admit though, some of those threats had been very creative…

All things considered, they were making pretty good time. His unwilling charge was surprisingly light, despite the amount of food she consumed. By any reasonable calculation, she should have weighed more, a lot more…

Bottomless pit,

he mused as he unconsciously shifted her to lean more against him in order to relieve some of the pressure being put on his injured arm.

"Does it hurt very much?" she suddenly asked softly, concern replacing the anger in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he told her stiffly, signalling that he was not in the mood to discuss his well-being. He could see where the conversation was heading, and had no wish to say anything more about himself. She did not need worry about him on top of everything else.

Unfortunately, Miaka had never been particularly good at taking hints.

Her lips pursed together in annoyance. She had seen how severe those cuts had been, and although she was no doctor, she knew that the injury was in danger of reopening and bleeding again at the slightest provocation if he wasn't careful.

"But your arm—" she protested, resisting the urge to grab him by the lapels of his expensive designer shirt and shake some sense into him.

"I'm fine," he cut her off impassively, staring straight ahead; pointedly refusing to look at her.

Damned man! Why does he always have to be like this? Refusing to let himself be treated, pretending that he isn't in pain! Nakago no baka!

she fumed. Despite the expressionless façade he kept firmly in place, she had noticed the telltale flash of pain which flickered through his clear blue eyes every so often. She had seen him seriously hurt once before, when they had been fighting Tenkou…and it was something she never wanted to witness again.

Can't let him continue carrying me like this! He needs to get some rest…I'm not going to let the jerk hurt himself because of me!

Miaka thought resolutely, gritting her teeth. Closing her eyes, she started focusing all the determination and willpower she possessed, pushing the ever-present worry over Keisuke and Taka aside for the time being. The concern she felt, here and now, centred on a certain domineering, unspeakably stubborn blonde man…

The air around her seemed to ripple slightly as the faint red glow of Suzaku's power surrounded her slender body. If she could erect a chi barrier around herself, maybe she could force him to put her down. It wasn't the most refined of plans, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.

She opened her eyes in triumph as a psychic barrier shimmered into existence around her…

…and passed through him! Or more precisely, HE passed right through IT. Miaka's mouth dropped open in stunned amazement. NANI? What the—…Nothing happened! The protective sphere of energy she had managed to summon should have separated them, and he shouldn't have been able to touch her…

Nicholas stopped on his tracks, showing no indication of being affected by the presence of the barrier. One arm remained wrapped securely around her back and the other was still hooked behind her knees. Although his composure remained fully intact with no outward emotion showing on his face, her use of chi had greatly surprised him, and he had not expected her to go to such lengths…The Suzaku no Miko was annoyingly persistent, even after he had made it abundantly clear that he was not about to let her walk on that twisted ankle of hers.

Although I would definitely have to give her points for trying…

He stared at the glowing chi-field with an air of clinical detachment before looking down at her with the sort of cool scrutiny that made her feel like she was about three inches tall.

"This is an interesting turn of events," he commented wryly.

The barrier faded away as she sighed, sagging against him in defeat. Expanding all that energy just to create the barrier was tiring, and being carried around like a princess was not altogether unpleasant… Just this once, she reluctantly admitted to herself. It feels…nice. So warm and comfortable…a tiny treacherous voice at the back of her mind whispered.

"I hate you," she mumbled, not even bothering to take the effort to glare at him.

His eyes were focused on the path ahead of them, and he did not dignify her words with a reply. The only reaction from him was a faint mocking smirk which ghosted over his lips.

How long had he been carrying her? Two hours? Three? He's got to be exhausted! She could feel his muscles trembling from the exertion. From her position, she could easily see the tense set of his jaw and the light sheen of sweat coating his face and throat.

She was truly worried for him now…and disgusted at her own powerlessness to do anything about it.

"Put me down," she tried again, keeping her voice quiet but forceful. It wasn't a request, but a command from Suzaku's chosen priestess.

He did not even blink, nor did he give any sign that he had heard her. She glared up at him, contemplating whether it would be too childish to bite him despite her resolve not cause him further injury. No doubt he was going to ignore her again unless she did something drastic.

Maybe if I just reached up and kissed him on the lips…that would definitely get his attention!

a part of her mind suggested naughtily. What THE HECK am I thinking? Ugh! Shut up! SHUT UP! shementally yelled at herself, horrified at the highly inappropriate thoughts that her imagination was happily conjuring…

…when without warning, another voice rung out behind them. "All right, you #$& hentai bastard, the lady wishes to be put down. I think you'd best listen to her!" Irreverent and brazenly flippant, it was clear that whatever faults the owner had, a lack of confidence was not one of them.

Miaka gasped in surprise, shocked recognition making her large eyes even wider. I KNOW that voice! However, before she could utter a single word, she felt Nakago's arms tightening around her as he abruptly side-stepped some unseen danger. The sudden fast movement caused her head to spin and her stomach to give a nervous, sickening lurch.

An instant later, a wave of heat engulfed them both as a gout of flame raced past her nose; in fact, it was so close that her eyebrows only narrowly missed getting singed off.

Nicholas bit back an irritated sigh as he slowly straightened, valiantly trying not to give in to the sudden violent urge to hit something…or in this case, someone. The clueless idiot behind him obviously thought that he was some heinous criminal trying to abuse a defenseless girl. If the cuts on his arm weren't throbbing so painfully under the strain of carrying the Suzaku no Miko, he might found the absurdity of the entire situation amusing. Unfortunately, at the moment, his emotional and physical resources were already stretched too thin to allow humour of any sort…

When he spoke, his voice was dangerously calm, but extreme annoyance had added a razor-sharp edge to his tone. "Congratulations, Tasuki," he said coldly without turning around to face the person who had so rudely accosted them. "You almost succeeded in barbecuing your own Miko."

Notes:

1) Miaka is too busy freaking out to see how thoughtful Nakago's actions really are. But then again, it's Nakago we're talking about here…he's the only person who can do something so incredibly nice and still piss her off at the same time…

2) There is absolutely nothing wrong with Miaka's psychic barrier. It will work on anything EXCEPT Nakago/Nicholas. There is a reason for this, and will be revealed in later chapters!