Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.
Love, Life, and Death By Annie-chan Chapter Thirty-One: PartingTori watched her father as he moved the writing brush quickly over the paper. He had weathered the years quite well, but she could not help but notice the small things that indicated he was slowing up.
So many children in the village wanted to hear his stories about Suzaku no Miko and the Suzaku Shichi Seishi, that he finally decided it would just be easier to write them all down. He had been working on it constantly for several weeks now, and when asked why, he had answered with a slight smile that he didn't know if he'd be around much longer. Tori and her younger brothers and sisters knew he was old and that no one lives forever, but the prospect of his death still frightened them. He had been so kind and loving a father. His absence would be deeply grieved.
It had been over forty years since Suzaku no Miko had come, since the war with Kutô-koku, since Hôjun had met his destiny and put all his powers to the test. His memory of those times was still very sharp, sharper than any other memories from long ago. Even more recent memories were fuzzy compared to the recollective power of what was now known around Kônan-koku as the Years of Reckoning. So much had been at stake in the clash of the Seiryû and Suzaku Seishi, as well as the near-disaster involving the Demon-God Tenkô. Hôjun's body bore many old scars from that time, and Tori remembered an older scar, one that slashed across his face, that told of the emotional pain he had endured in the first few decades of his life. Even now, a darkness could be seen in the depths of his eyes, telling of the heartbreak he had so many times faced and dealt with.
Ri Hôjun had been town leader for about twenty years now. So many people, both young and old, looked up to him and respected him, and the reception of him as the one the previous town leader wanted to succeed him had been almost unanimously good. He had since governed the town to the best of his ability.
He, at the venerable age of seventy years old, had seven children, twenty-nine grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren. He would have had nine children, but there had been two deaths: Kojika had been stillborn forty-one years ago, and Washi had been killed at the age of twenty. Tori's mentally retarded little brother had wandered away from his twin in the woods, and had not realized he was in danger until the sick and hunger-crazed outcast from a local wolf pack had attacked. A frantic Taka, cursing himself for not keeping better track of his brother, had heard Washi's frightened cries and the hungry snarl of the wolf. He had come running, seen his twin's throat in the wolf's jaws, and Taka's subsequent rage rivaled that of his father's hidden volatility. He had fallen on the wolf, wrenched it away from Washi, and broken its neck with his bare hands in an adrenaline-fueled burst of strength. Washi had bled to death in his brother's arms a few minutes later. His death had hit the family hard.
Ten years ago, Hôjun had suffered a blow that had almost made him sick with depression. He had, out of nowhere, been hit with a soul-deep chill, an ice-cold hand clamping around his heart, a feeling of sudden loss and emptiness. It had taken him a few minutes to recover and realize what he was feeling. It had been the severing of ki that a Seishi felt when one of his companions died. Tasuki was dead. Several days later, he had received a letter from Kôji telling of Tasuki's death in a skirmish against a rival bandit gang. The Reikaku-zan bandits had beaten them back, but not before losing their leader in a lucky shot from one of the rival gang's archers. Tasuki had been fifty-three years old, and considering a bandit's risky lifestyle, he had lived for quite a long time. Ri Hôjun, known as Chichiri, was now the last of the Seishi to survive. Kôji, himself having also lived longer than the bandit lifestyle usually allowed, had died a few years later to a viral sickness.
Tori remembered her father saying not too long ago, with a downcast look in his eyes, that the thing he liked least about aging was the almost continuous loss of friends to the ravages of time. Along with Tasuki's death, Hôjun had lost many of his friends around the town to old age and ailments associated with old age. He himself was one of the oldest people in Shôryû now. His health was still very good, and he may live for years yet. On the other hand, good health at his age was much more precarious than good health in youth.
Hôjun put the brush down, placed the lid on the jar of ink, and stood up. He was slightly stiff. His joints weren't as supple as they once were.
"Tori-chan, no da," he smiled. "I didn't know you were here, no da."
"Oh, I came so the kids could see you," she replied, indicating the two young children at her feet. Her two grandchildren. Their parents were working in one of the fields outside of town, and Tori had volunteered to baby-sit, as she normally did. They detached themselves from their grandmother and latched onto Hôjun. He smiled and knelt down to their level to return the embrace. "How's Okâsan?" Tori asked.
"She's…fine, no da," he answered. "She's still a little weak from being ill last winter, but I think she's fine, no da. She keeps reassuring me of that, no da." Kôran had been ill for an extended period of time last winter, and was noticeably less healthy than she was at this time a year ago.
The woman in question walked into the room at that moment. Her face, lined with the cares of motherhood, broke into a smile when she saw her oldest daughter.
"Ohayô, Okâsan," Tori smiled, hugging her mother.
"Tori," Kôran replied. "It good to see you again."
Hôjun eyebrows arched downward slightly. Tori and her husband had been over to visit just a couple days ago, and it was if Kôran had forgotten than. The Ri matriarch's memory seemed to be failing.
"Well, we—" Hôjun was cut off as the older child, a boy, began chasing the cat. The small white animal, named Kei, was descended several generations from Tama-neko, Mitsukake's cat. The eerily intelligent cat's numerous other descendants were scattered about the town, living with countless families. Kei looked almost exactly like her loveable ancestor.
Hôjun smiled and shook his head as Tori chased after the laughing boy. Ah, yes…the joy of being a child…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tori looked in on her father. He knelt by the side of the bed, holding his wife's still hand. It was winter again, and the illness she had had a year ago had returned two-fold. Hôjun hadn't left Kôran's side for days.
"Otôsan?" she ventured. "How is she?"
She could hear him swallow through a dry throat. He sat there, silent and motionless, for several minutes. Finally he opened his mouth and whispered, very softly, on the verge of tears…
"Gather the family, Tori-chan…Okâsan's dead."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kôran and Hôjun's children were gathered in the living room of the house, their spouses, children, and grandchildren all around them. Hôjun had just gone to bed. The funeral had been earlier that day, and the entire family was gloomy.
"I can't believe…she's really gone…" Seiryoku murmured, staring at his lap. His eyes were still shining with tears.
"She was old, Sei-chan," Hana said softly. "Her time had come…I guess."
They were silent for a while.
"Well," Tori said, breaking the heavy silence. "It's late…I think you should all go home now. Otôsan needs some peace." She and her husband were staying with Hôjun for a while, helping him through his grief. He loved his wife with all his heart, and her loss had cut into him deeper than any other had.
A little while later, everyone was gone but Tori and her husband, Shinta. Shinta set to straightening up the living room after having so many people in it, while Tori peeked in her father's room to see if he was all right.
He was awake.
"Otôsan…?" Tori said. He turned his eyes up to her. "Daijôbu…?"
Hôjun squeezed his eyes shut. "Hai…heiki…" he replied.
Tori knelt down by the bed. "We're all here for you, Otôsan. We always will be."
Hôjun looked at her, looking exhausted. "I know, and I thank you." He closed his eyes again. "Don't worry about me, Tori-chan. It's late. You and Shinta should go to bed." He lay still, and it was evident a few minutes later that he had fallen asleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three weeks later, Ri Hôjun, Suzaku Shichi Seishi Chichiri and leader of the town of Shôryû, was put to rest beside his wife. He had died of his grief, and had now joined his beloved and his Seishi comrades in the land beyond. Many people claim to have seen a great red bird soaring through the air above the town and descending in the direction of the graveyard. A young boy, cutting through the graveyard to return from the woods, was found mesmerized, kneeling on the ground near the Ri family graves. He kept saying he saw the Phoenix God himself land, fiery tears slipping from his eyes and dripping off the end of his sharp beak as he bent his head toward the freshly turned-over earth in Hôjun's grave. The bird had changed into a man, tears on his face, dressed in crimson, gold, and white, red wings stretching from his back, holding in his arms a spirit that could belong to none other than the dearly departed town leader. The man had disappeared seconds later.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Suzaku-seikun drifted in the space between the Material Plane and Heaven, cradling the soul of his last Seishi in his arms. He didn't know why he had let himself be visible to the people of the town, or the boy in the graveyard.
"Mm," Hôjun murmured, stirring. He opened his eyes. "Doko…?"
"We are between your world and mine, Chichiri," Suzaku replied.
"Your world…?" Hôjun repeated. "What…do you mean Heaven, no da?!"
"Yes," Suzaku nodded.
"Oh…yes…" Hôjun whispered. "I died, didn't I, no da?"
Suzaku nodded again. "You died of your grief, Chichiri. The loss of your wife was too much for you to bear."
"Where is she…?" Hôjun asked, still sleepy-seeming after departure from his body.
"She has been sent to the Miko world where she was reborn," Suzaku said. "You remember that Suzaku no Miko wished for me to make it so her Seishi were reborn in her world? Tamahome was only the first. All the others have gone after him, and it's your turn now. I couldn't limit Miaka's wish to just her Seishi…I've taken the liberty of sending select others with them. Namely, those most important to each Seishi. Your wife and your best friend certainly qualify."
"Hikô, too?!" Hôjun asked.
"Yes," Suzaku confirmed. "Now, hold still…this won't hurt." He placed his hand on Hôjun's head, closed his eyes, and began murmuring almost inaudibly, chanting the spell that would send Hôjun's soul to the Miko world.
Hôjun felt a warmth rush through him, and then knew no more.
To be continued…Author's Notes: THIS IS NOT THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!! There's gonna be an epilogue chapter that I hope I'll post soon. It'll probably be really short. -_- Oh, well…epilogues usually are. Anyway, all the Seishi will be there, and Miaka, and perhaps some of the family members and such of the Seishi. Now, since Tamahome's reincarnation is named Sukunami Taka, and not Sô Kishuku, I figure that none of the other Seishi would be named the same as in their past life, either. In other words, everyone (except Miaka and Taka) will be named differently, but I haven't decided what they'll be yet. Just keep in mind that the epilogue will be from Chichiri's POV, and I'll find ways to indicate who's who. Okay? Okay. Anyway, tell me what you think of this chapter! It was really hard to write, what with killing both my favorite character, Chichiri, and Katie's favorite character, Tasuki (sorry, Keitii-chan!). Let me know in a review or by mailing me at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!