~Writer's Note: Shorty chapter. Sorry but I have work. Next week though, I'm on vacation and plan to write!~



"Tamahome!"

"Miaka!" The priestess rushed to her first warrior and threw herself in his arms. She was scantily clad in silk scarves and looked much more buxom than usual. Her lips trembled as Tamahome gazed down at her beautiful face, so full of yearning and desire. Those lips were full and red and held the promise of otherworldly carnal pleasures.

"Tamahome," she moaned breathily like a woman in the throes of passion. "Tamahome, would you. Would you."

"Yes, yes?" He asked eagerly. By Suzaku, he'd do anything for her! Anything. He'd teach his naïve partner the art of love like a master instructs his favored pupil with time, patience, and wisdom.

"Would you - smell this for me?" Miaka held up a pair of gigantic, fragrant undies. Suddenly, she disappeared from his arms and Tamahome was fleeing from a dozens panty-throwing gangsters.

"No!!"

"Tamahome! Wake up! You are having a nightmare, nothing more. Wake up, I command it!" Tamahome blearily opened his remarkable violet eyes, praying to the phoenix God that the sight of Miaka's pile of dirty underwear didn't greet him.

"Hotohori?" He croaked. He'd recognize that pretty face anywhere. His throat was so dry but he was wracked his violent chills. What happened and where was he anyway? The room was opulent yet tasteful which definitely excluded his shabby, indigent apartment.

"You were struck down while defending Miaka three days ago. You are in my rooms." Hotohori offered him a drink of water that Tamahome accepted as his mind raced feverishly. Did injured guests usually spend their time recuperating in the Emperor's private quarters? Or was something more sinister going on?

"Where is Miaka anyway?" As his mind woke up further, he was vaguely hurt that Miaka wasn't there, nursing him back to health. He rescued her, didn't he? She could show a little more gratitude, the nasty tramp.

"I am afraid that the priestess and the empress have gone missing." Hotohori sounded worried. Tamahome struggled to sit up but every motion was like a lick of fire traveling through his torso. Gritting his teeth, he bore the pain long enough to grab a fistful of the emperor's robe.

"Why haven't you gone to save her?" He ground out. Dear Suzaku, the pain of this wound was like no other he had ever experienced. How could he help Miaka if he could barely move?

"I am the emperor," Hotohori replied with some heat, "I can't just run off and leave it in the hands of those incompetent Asses." 'Those incompetent asses' must be referring to Hotohori's advisor. Tamahome was still not appeased.

"What about your duty as a celestial warrior? If Miaka is killed, there won't be an empire left to protect! Also, what about your duty as a husband? If I were you, I wouldn't let such a fine piece of ass out of my sight, much less kidnapped or murdered or whatever." Tamahome smacked his fist into the opposite palm several times to make his point clear.

"We have to go save Miaka and Nuriko! Where are my clothes?" Tamahome demanded as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could stand - he hoped.

"Tamahome, you are in no shape to go gallivanting the countryside, looking for the lost priestess. I doubt you can even stand." Tamahome scowled at hearing this bit of truth and promptly hoisted himself up to prove the emperor wrong. Hotohori caught him before his face hit the floor.

Damn you for being right," He growled. "But someone has to save Miaka!" He struggled against his weakness, once more determined to stand. Hotohori placed a restraining hand on his comrade's shoulder.

"One of us will save Miaka. I have a plan." At the evil glint in Hotohori's eyes, Tamahome began to feel scared.



"Damn him," Tamahome grumbled as he waved the emperor off. Dressed in the imperial robes and reclining on a mobile divan, Tamahome now was the interim Emperor. Somehow, Hotohori managed top convince his advisors that Tamahome would be the perfect temporary replacement while he searched for the last four seishi and Miaka. What did he know about running an empire? He was a scam artist and a thief. Those were hardly qualifications for a politician. He needed to be honest, dedicated, and hard working. All Tamahome was sure of was that he wouldn't let those idiots who called themselves councilors order him around like they did Hotohori. Putting on his evilest grin, the one he used when mugging hapless idiots, Tamahome turned to face the group of men who were congratulating themselves over gaining a malleable new protégé. Steepling his fingers, he let the gaze lingering on each one of them until they sweated and twitched under the weight of their clothes.

"We have work to do."