AN: This chapter is lovingly dedicated to Purple Mouse and Kaze-chan, whom I cannot thank enough for their efforts to pull me back into that wonderful place where motivation flows, writing comes easily, and the words of all the cruel fiction professors in the world can't drag me away. Also, great thanks to Rei Ayanami for all her reviews, as well as to all those who have waited so patiently as I "got a grip on things," so to speak.
AN2: This is a NEW chapter. What was previously chapter 13 still exists, but upon a bit of reflection and reading through The Last Wish in its entirety, I've decided that it would complement the story better if it appeared later. Thus. On with the story. ^_~.
---
The Last Wish - Chapter 13
*****
"Nuriko, turn right! Hayaku!"
The violet-haired boy glanced at her, one slim-fingered hand resting lightly on the steering wheel. A slender eyebrow arched. "Turn?" he echoed, absentmindedly lifting his foot from the gas, letting the yellow convertible drift along, come to a slow halt just before the dusty side road. "Why?"
Miaka shook her head, chewing absently on her lip. A strange, thoughtful frown had crept onto her lips, now twisted her mouth downwards, narrowed her eyes into slits. "I...I don't know," she said. Shaking her head to clear it, the girl sat a bit straighter in her seat, pointed towards the road with renewed urgency. "Demo, you have to turn here. Onegai..."
Startled by the desperation in her tone, Nuriko nodded, offered a small, "Hai," and then stamped down on the gas, brought the car effortlessly around the curve. The tires bucked in response, jostling the two in their seats, but neither noticed, fully occupied by their own thoughts. After a moment of driving in silence, Nuriko reached into the glove compartment, drew out a stylish pair of sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. His arm, he let rest on the rubbery sill of the window, the fingers dancing mindlessly in the wind. Miaka, meanwhile, was silent, staring out at the passing clumps of trees and bushes with what appeared to be rapt fascination, both arms wrapped tightly over her chest.
They'd been driving down the dusty, bumpy dirt road for nearly ten minutes without passing anything but woodlands and faded signposts when, abruptly, Nuriko pressed his foot down on the break, brought them to a slow halt at the edge of the road.
Miaka blinked, turned to him with wide, urgent eyes. "Nani, Nuriko? We have to hurry..."
Nuriko shook his head. "No." He turned, was suddenly gripping onto her hand, his fingers warm and strong against her own. "No," he repeated softly. "Miaka...please. Tell me what's going on."
She turned away, stared out the open window with anguished eyes. "Iie...I can't." Her voice sank to a whisper. "Gomen, Nuriko. I can't. You wouldn't believe me, anyway."
The fingers around her own tightened, made her gasp, turn and look at him. He had slid closer to her as she looked away, now sat just beside her, his eyes bright and worried and only an inch or so away from her own. "Please," he said. He brought up the other hand to join the first, clasped the fingers of her right hand tightly between his own. "I need to know what's going on."
Miaka stared at him in shock, barely able to force the breath through her lips. Her heart seemed frozen in her chest, her fingers frozen in the gentle, loving warmth of Nuriko's slim hands. She glanced down at them for a moment, saw how small they were, how slender the fingers, how well-manicured the nails. Tamahome's hands were so much larger, callused with the sores of seventeen years of athletics, and when he held onto her, she felt safe; protected. But...but, somehow... She glanced up again, let her eyes find those intelligent pools of violet; see the conflict within them, the desire and the hesitation...the love.
//He...he really does love me...doesn't he?\\
And, somehow, she felt safe with Nuriko as she'd never felt safe with anyone before. Tamahome loved her, yes...but, Nuriko's love was a silent love; a love that had existed for so much longer than Tamahome's...but, somehow she'd never noticed before.
How long had he been loving her?
Abruptly, something changed in those bright violet eyes. Nuriko pulled his hands from hers, turned away with a violent flush creeping into his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice so low that she barely recognized it. "I..." He trailed off, shook his head and stared out the window. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense and rigid beneath the soft white of the dress shirt. After a few silent moments passed, he turned back, offered a weak smile. "Gomen ne, Miaka. I'm just...worried about you. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. H-Honto ni."
Miaka stared down at her hands, could almost see the warmth of Nuriko's skin fading from them, trickling away as it had from... Her eyes darted up to the flash of silver clinging to his wrists, to the small jewels that rested there, glittering a soft green in the afternoon sunlight. "Ne, Nuriko," she murmured, not bothering to lift her eyes from the bracelets. "Those...those bracelets..." She drew in a long breath, let it out slowly through her nostrils and finally lifted her eyes, looked into two confused pools of violet. "Have you ever...fought anyone while you were wearing them?"
Nuriko blinked, a slow frown beginning to bend at his lips. Finally, he shook his head, pulled one wrist up into the sunlight so the bracelet glittered a dull gold. "No. You know I...I stopped fighting after..." He brought the hand down into his lap, gazed at it in silence for a moment. "After Kourin died," he finished softly.
"Soo ka," Miaka whispered. "So, it's...it's possible that the bracelets COULD change into--" She broke off, shook her head and reached for the door handle. A moment later, she was standing outside the car, gazing off into the distance with a look of determination fixed on her features.
Nuriko frowned, vaulted easily over the door and landed in the dirt, let one hand rest against his hip. "Miaka?"
She turned. Her voice was hard and commanding, barely recognizable, even in her own ears. "Come on," she said. "We're going."
The violet-haired boy blinked, glanced around at the seemingly-endless flood of forest surrounding the road, the far-off glint of bright sunshine at the end of the tree-lined tunnel. "Ne," he said, taking a tentative step away from the car, "to where?"
Miaka walked to his side, grabbed onto one slim hand and held it tightly in her own. "To Taiitsu-kun," she replied firmly. "I know where we are." She drew a deep breath, let it flutter slowly through parted lips. "I remember Kaasan driving this way. The bazaar is right over this hill."
"The...the bazaar...?" Abruptly, comprehension flooded into Nuriko's eyes, and he frowned, gazed down at her with uncertainty in his eyes. "Demo...Miaka...just because the bazaar was here when you were ten years old doesn't mean it'll be here now."
Miaka shook her head, turned and charged into the woods. "Iie!" she called over one shoulder. "Even if the bazaar isn't here, Taiitsu-kun is. She has to be!"
"Miaka... Miaka! Ne, wait up!"
Sighing and hoping that no potential car thieves would happen upon the yellow convertible while they were gone, Nuriko shoved the car keys into his pocket, flung his braid over one shoulder, and ran into the woods. His shoes rustled noisily against the remnants of fallen leaves, and it didn't take long for his long hair to find something to get tangled in, but somehow, he made it through, keeping as close to the speeding girl as he could without tripping over her ankles.
~*~*~*~
"STOP!"
Hotohori stamped his foot down on the break, heard a screech from the backseat and saw a flash of red hair surge past him a moment later.
The flame-haired boy scowled at him, spent a moment struggling to drag himself back into a sitting position before the emergency break jabbed any deeper into his ribs. "ITAI," he exclaimed, glaring at the eighteen-year-old as he pushed himself back into his seat. "Ne, that HURT..."
Hotohori raised a slender eyebrow, eyed the younger man coolly. "Tasuki," he said sternly, "you were told to wear a seatbelt."
"@#)*)@(*#$ seatbelts," Tasuki grumbled. "Only @#($*&@#$ old ladies wear @(#$*& seatbelts."
"Anyway," said Tamahome impatiently, pushing open his door and stepping outside, "look." He pointed. "There. You see it? Through the trees?"
Deciding to let the old ladies comment pass, the eighteen year old climbed regally from the car, turned and followed the younger man's finger. It was a moment before he could pick it out--a bright streak of yellow, just barely visible through the branches. His eyes narrowed. "Hai," he said slowly. "I suppose it could be any yellow car. But..." Hotohori frowned, crossed to Tamahome's side and spent another long moment staring down through the trees. "But, it certainly LOOKS like a convertible."
Tasuki, by this time, had finished cursing and had dragged himself from the car, now came up behind the two and placed his hands on their shoulders. "Ne, Tama," he said loudly, "what we lookin' at?"
Hotohori shook his head, gave the flame-haired seventeen-year-old a stern glance. "Quiet," he said. "This may not be good. If they've left the car..." He shook his head again. "They could be anywhere. Come on. Let's go. We may be able to find some trace of them once we get to the car."
Tasuki raised an eyebrow. "Car?" He leaned forward, peered down through the trees. "What, that yellow thing way down there?"
Hotohori sighed, began to follow Tamahome down the grassy hill towards the woods. "Come on, Tasuki."
---
Miaka came to an unsteady halt at the edge of the lot, stared at it with the hopelessness creeping back into her heart.
"There's...there's nothing here," she whispered.
Nuriko came up behind her, breathing heavily from the frantic run through the forest, and rested his hands on her shoulders, stared at the lot in silence. The pavement was faded and cracked, wild patches of grass and small bushes already squeezing up through the breaks, reaching with browning leaves for the sky. Occasional spots of flattened grass marked where the tents had once stood, and every now and then, the eye would catch onto a glimmer of metal or a sparkle of glass among the pavement and foliage...but other than that, the lot was empty, dead, and lifeless.
She tried not to cry. She tried so hard...but, the tears came anyway, stinging her eyes, flooding down her cheeks in hot, salty streams. "No," she managed, her words low and shaky beneath the hampered sobs. "No, it's not supposed to be like this. It's...it's supposed to be here...SHE'S supposed to be here..." She turned, suddenly, hands partially obscuring her face, and fell against Nuriko's chest, gave into the sobs and began to cry in earnest. "It's not fair!" she sobbed. "She has to be here! She has to...she has to be..."
Nuriko held her tightly, his arms thin and warm and strong, his heartbeat a gentle, lulling rhythm in her ears. "It'll be all right," he murmured. The fingers of his right hand lifted from her back, smoothed the hair gently back from her face. "It'll be all right, Miaka. I swear it."
The tears shook her small frame, made her snuggle closer to the older boy, nestle her head beneath his chin. "It's not fair," she whimpered. "I-I don't know what else I can do to...to stop it from happening to you, too."
Nuriko pulled her up from his embrace, held gently onto her shoulders. "Stop what from happening to me, Miaka?"
She closed her eyes, shook her head and pressed her palms to her face. "Nothing," she whispered. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."
"Miaka...Miaka." Nuriko's fingers latched onto her hands, pulled them from her eyes until she had to meet his gaze, see those bright violet eyes boring into her own...boring into her soul. "Miaka," Nuriko said quietly. "Is this about what you said before? About...about me...dying?"
Miaka could only nod, the tears pooling in her eyes.
"Miaka, I'm not going to die. I...I don't know what makes you think I'm going to, but...but, I'm not." Nuriko's lips lifted into a soft, bittersweet smile. "And, even if I did...you'd still have Tamahome, Hotohori--other people who love you. You'd be all right."
"O-Other people who..."
Nuriko took a short step backwards, shrugged a bit awkwardly. "Hai," he said quickly. "L-Like Tasuki, Chichiri, Chiriko... We all love you."
But...no. She'd heard it in his voice, heard the subtle distinction; what he'd really, really meant...what she'd suspected. Gods. It was just like last time, just like that time in Hokkan, right before...
"No," Miaka said quietly. Her voice was harder than she meant it to be, the words sharper than she intended...but she couldn't stop them from coming. "No. You...you didn't mean that kind of love the first time...did you? Ne, Nuriko? You meant...you meant..."
A look of blank terror flitted over those slim features, was quickly hidden beneath a wide, forced smile. "Ne, what're you talking about? I-I...I didn't mean--"
"MIAAAAKA! MIAKA!"
The voice cut through his words, was soon punctuated by the rustle of leaves and the thud of many feet. A moment later, three familiar figures burst out from the nearby forest, began to run towards them.
Miaka blinked, eyes going wide in startled confusion. "T-Tamahome? Hotohori? Tasuki? Why..."
"Miaka!" Tamahome exclaimed. A moment later, he'd crossed the distance between them, brushed past Nuriko, and grabbed the girl into his embrace. He clung to her tightly, his breath coming in harsh, angry gasps. "Bakayarou!" he managed, pulling her closer and pressing his cheek against her own. "Never do that again. I was so worried..."
Nuriko crept forward, tapped the younger man gently on the shoulder. "Ne, Tama-chan," he said a bit dryly, "she probably needs to breathe."
Miaka stared at the violet-haired boy from over Tamahome's shoulder, tried to find the words to apologize...but, Tamahome was holding her tightly, his distinctive smell surrounding her, enwrapping her in warmth and safety and love...and, no words would come. But, for an instant, her eyes met Nuriko's, and the pain she saw in them was almost unbearable.
//This is what Nuriko feels,\\ she realized, squeezing her eyes closed against that anguish; that longing. //I hurt him...maybe I've been hurting him all along.\\
"Come on," Tamahome said, releasing her but keeping one arm protectively around her shoulder, his eyes dark and teary in the sunlight. "Let's get back to school."
Hotohori glanced at his watch, shook his head slightly. "Iie, Tamahome. We won't make it back in time."
"Fine," the younger man said, "then let's get Miaka back to her house. But, let's not stay here. Miaka, why did you come here, anyway? Why didn't you tell me? I thought something happened to you, or that you and--" He broke off, glanced a bit guiltily away from Nuriko. "I thought something happened to you," he repeated.
"Nehehehehe," Tasuki cackled, taking a long step foward and clapping Tamahome on the back. "Don't listen to him, Miaka. He @#$(@#$(*& thought you and Nuriko had some kinda love affair or something! @@#$*&$ Nuriko...nehehehehehe!"
Nuriko flushed, looked away. "I'll go get the car," he mumbled.
Tasuki stopped short, eyes widening at the reaction. "Ne, Nuriko...it was just a joke..."
The older boy spun on his heel, offered a wide smile that never came close to reaching his eyes. "I know, Tasuki. My parents need the car by four, though. Get Miaka home safe, ne?" He didn't wait for a response, instead turned, hurried into the woods and soon had vanished from sight, nothing but the rhythmic crunch of leaves to give any sign that he'd ever been there at all.
Miaka broke free of Tamahome's arm, took a few tentative steps towards the woods. "N...Nuriko..."
"Miaka?" Tamahome was behind her, then, his hands resting strongly on her shoulders. "Miaka, what's going on?"
//His eyes looked...so sad...\\
Miaka sighed, turned and offered a small smile. "Nothing, Tamahome. Let's go...ne?"
---
AN2: This is a NEW chapter. What was previously chapter 13 still exists, but upon a bit of reflection and reading through The Last Wish in its entirety, I've decided that it would complement the story better if it appeared later. Thus. On with the story. ^_~.
---
The Last Wish - Chapter 13
*****
"Nuriko, turn right! Hayaku!"
The violet-haired boy glanced at her, one slim-fingered hand resting lightly on the steering wheel. A slender eyebrow arched. "Turn?" he echoed, absentmindedly lifting his foot from the gas, letting the yellow convertible drift along, come to a slow halt just before the dusty side road. "Why?"
Miaka shook her head, chewing absently on her lip. A strange, thoughtful frown had crept onto her lips, now twisted her mouth downwards, narrowed her eyes into slits. "I...I don't know," she said. Shaking her head to clear it, the girl sat a bit straighter in her seat, pointed towards the road with renewed urgency. "Demo, you have to turn here. Onegai..."
Startled by the desperation in her tone, Nuriko nodded, offered a small, "Hai," and then stamped down on the gas, brought the car effortlessly around the curve. The tires bucked in response, jostling the two in their seats, but neither noticed, fully occupied by their own thoughts. After a moment of driving in silence, Nuriko reached into the glove compartment, drew out a stylish pair of sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. His arm, he let rest on the rubbery sill of the window, the fingers dancing mindlessly in the wind. Miaka, meanwhile, was silent, staring out at the passing clumps of trees and bushes with what appeared to be rapt fascination, both arms wrapped tightly over her chest.
They'd been driving down the dusty, bumpy dirt road for nearly ten minutes without passing anything but woodlands and faded signposts when, abruptly, Nuriko pressed his foot down on the break, brought them to a slow halt at the edge of the road.
Miaka blinked, turned to him with wide, urgent eyes. "Nani, Nuriko? We have to hurry..."
Nuriko shook his head. "No." He turned, was suddenly gripping onto her hand, his fingers warm and strong against her own. "No," he repeated softly. "Miaka...please. Tell me what's going on."
She turned away, stared out the open window with anguished eyes. "Iie...I can't." Her voice sank to a whisper. "Gomen, Nuriko. I can't. You wouldn't believe me, anyway."
The fingers around her own tightened, made her gasp, turn and look at him. He had slid closer to her as she looked away, now sat just beside her, his eyes bright and worried and only an inch or so away from her own. "Please," he said. He brought up the other hand to join the first, clasped the fingers of her right hand tightly between his own. "I need to know what's going on."
Miaka stared at him in shock, barely able to force the breath through her lips. Her heart seemed frozen in her chest, her fingers frozen in the gentle, loving warmth of Nuriko's slim hands. She glanced down at them for a moment, saw how small they were, how slender the fingers, how well-manicured the nails. Tamahome's hands were so much larger, callused with the sores of seventeen years of athletics, and when he held onto her, she felt safe; protected. But...but, somehow... She glanced up again, let her eyes find those intelligent pools of violet; see the conflict within them, the desire and the hesitation...the love.
//He...he really does love me...doesn't he?\\
And, somehow, she felt safe with Nuriko as she'd never felt safe with anyone before. Tamahome loved her, yes...but, Nuriko's love was a silent love; a love that had existed for so much longer than Tamahome's...but, somehow she'd never noticed before.
How long had he been loving her?
Abruptly, something changed in those bright violet eyes. Nuriko pulled his hands from hers, turned away with a violent flush creeping into his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice so low that she barely recognized it. "I..." He trailed off, shook his head and stared out the window. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense and rigid beneath the soft white of the dress shirt. After a few silent moments passed, he turned back, offered a weak smile. "Gomen ne, Miaka. I'm just...worried about you. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. H-Honto ni."
Miaka stared down at her hands, could almost see the warmth of Nuriko's skin fading from them, trickling away as it had from... Her eyes darted up to the flash of silver clinging to his wrists, to the small jewels that rested there, glittering a soft green in the afternoon sunlight. "Ne, Nuriko," she murmured, not bothering to lift her eyes from the bracelets. "Those...those bracelets..." She drew in a long breath, let it out slowly through her nostrils and finally lifted her eyes, looked into two confused pools of violet. "Have you ever...fought anyone while you were wearing them?"
Nuriko blinked, a slow frown beginning to bend at his lips. Finally, he shook his head, pulled one wrist up into the sunlight so the bracelet glittered a dull gold. "No. You know I...I stopped fighting after..." He brought the hand down into his lap, gazed at it in silence for a moment. "After Kourin died," he finished softly.
"Soo ka," Miaka whispered. "So, it's...it's possible that the bracelets COULD change into--" She broke off, shook her head and reached for the door handle. A moment later, she was standing outside the car, gazing off into the distance with a look of determination fixed on her features.
Nuriko frowned, vaulted easily over the door and landed in the dirt, let one hand rest against his hip. "Miaka?"
She turned. Her voice was hard and commanding, barely recognizable, even in her own ears. "Come on," she said. "We're going."
The violet-haired boy blinked, glanced around at the seemingly-endless flood of forest surrounding the road, the far-off glint of bright sunshine at the end of the tree-lined tunnel. "Ne," he said, taking a tentative step away from the car, "to where?"
Miaka walked to his side, grabbed onto one slim hand and held it tightly in her own. "To Taiitsu-kun," she replied firmly. "I know where we are." She drew a deep breath, let it flutter slowly through parted lips. "I remember Kaasan driving this way. The bazaar is right over this hill."
"The...the bazaar...?" Abruptly, comprehension flooded into Nuriko's eyes, and he frowned, gazed down at her with uncertainty in his eyes. "Demo...Miaka...just because the bazaar was here when you were ten years old doesn't mean it'll be here now."
Miaka shook her head, turned and charged into the woods. "Iie!" she called over one shoulder. "Even if the bazaar isn't here, Taiitsu-kun is. She has to be!"
"Miaka... Miaka! Ne, wait up!"
Sighing and hoping that no potential car thieves would happen upon the yellow convertible while they were gone, Nuriko shoved the car keys into his pocket, flung his braid over one shoulder, and ran into the woods. His shoes rustled noisily against the remnants of fallen leaves, and it didn't take long for his long hair to find something to get tangled in, but somehow, he made it through, keeping as close to the speeding girl as he could without tripping over her ankles.
~*~*~*~
"STOP!"
Hotohori stamped his foot down on the break, heard a screech from the backseat and saw a flash of red hair surge past him a moment later.
The flame-haired boy scowled at him, spent a moment struggling to drag himself back into a sitting position before the emergency break jabbed any deeper into his ribs. "ITAI," he exclaimed, glaring at the eighteen-year-old as he pushed himself back into his seat. "Ne, that HURT..."
Hotohori raised a slender eyebrow, eyed the younger man coolly. "Tasuki," he said sternly, "you were told to wear a seatbelt."
"@#)*)@(*#$ seatbelts," Tasuki grumbled. "Only @#($*&@#$ old ladies wear @(#$*& seatbelts."
"Anyway," said Tamahome impatiently, pushing open his door and stepping outside, "look." He pointed. "There. You see it? Through the trees?"
Deciding to let the old ladies comment pass, the eighteen year old climbed regally from the car, turned and followed the younger man's finger. It was a moment before he could pick it out--a bright streak of yellow, just barely visible through the branches. His eyes narrowed. "Hai," he said slowly. "I suppose it could be any yellow car. But..." Hotohori frowned, crossed to Tamahome's side and spent another long moment staring down through the trees. "But, it certainly LOOKS like a convertible."
Tasuki, by this time, had finished cursing and had dragged himself from the car, now came up behind the two and placed his hands on their shoulders. "Ne, Tama," he said loudly, "what we lookin' at?"
Hotohori shook his head, gave the flame-haired seventeen-year-old a stern glance. "Quiet," he said. "This may not be good. If they've left the car..." He shook his head again. "They could be anywhere. Come on. Let's go. We may be able to find some trace of them once we get to the car."
Tasuki raised an eyebrow. "Car?" He leaned forward, peered down through the trees. "What, that yellow thing way down there?"
Hotohori sighed, began to follow Tamahome down the grassy hill towards the woods. "Come on, Tasuki."
---
Miaka came to an unsteady halt at the edge of the lot, stared at it with the hopelessness creeping back into her heart.
"There's...there's nothing here," she whispered.
Nuriko came up behind her, breathing heavily from the frantic run through the forest, and rested his hands on her shoulders, stared at the lot in silence. The pavement was faded and cracked, wild patches of grass and small bushes already squeezing up through the breaks, reaching with browning leaves for the sky. Occasional spots of flattened grass marked where the tents had once stood, and every now and then, the eye would catch onto a glimmer of metal or a sparkle of glass among the pavement and foliage...but other than that, the lot was empty, dead, and lifeless.
She tried not to cry. She tried so hard...but, the tears came anyway, stinging her eyes, flooding down her cheeks in hot, salty streams. "No," she managed, her words low and shaky beneath the hampered sobs. "No, it's not supposed to be like this. It's...it's supposed to be here...SHE'S supposed to be here..." She turned, suddenly, hands partially obscuring her face, and fell against Nuriko's chest, gave into the sobs and began to cry in earnest. "It's not fair!" she sobbed. "She has to be here! She has to...she has to be..."
Nuriko held her tightly, his arms thin and warm and strong, his heartbeat a gentle, lulling rhythm in her ears. "It'll be all right," he murmured. The fingers of his right hand lifted from her back, smoothed the hair gently back from her face. "It'll be all right, Miaka. I swear it."
The tears shook her small frame, made her snuggle closer to the older boy, nestle her head beneath his chin. "It's not fair," she whimpered. "I-I don't know what else I can do to...to stop it from happening to you, too."
Nuriko pulled her up from his embrace, held gently onto her shoulders. "Stop what from happening to me, Miaka?"
She closed her eyes, shook her head and pressed her palms to her face. "Nothing," she whispered. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."
"Miaka...Miaka." Nuriko's fingers latched onto her hands, pulled them from her eyes until she had to meet his gaze, see those bright violet eyes boring into her own...boring into her soul. "Miaka," Nuriko said quietly. "Is this about what you said before? About...about me...dying?"
Miaka could only nod, the tears pooling in her eyes.
"Miaka, I'm not going to die. I...I don't know what makes you think I'm going to, but...but, I'm not." Nuriko's lips lifted into a soft, bittersweet smile. "And, even if I did...you'd still have Tamahome, Hotohori--other people who love you. You'd be all right."
"O-Other people who..."
Nuriko took a short step backwards, shrugged a bit awkwardly. "Hai," he said quickly. "L-Like Tasuki, Chichiri, Chiriko... We all love you."
But...no. She'd heard it in his voice, heard the subtle distinction; what he'd really, really meant...what she'd suspected. Gods. It was just like last time, just like that time in Hokkan, right before...
"No," Miaka said quietly. Her voice was harder than she meant it to be, the words sharper than she intended...but she couldn't stop them from coming. "No. You...you didn't mean that kind of love the first time...did you? Ne, Nuriko? You meant...you meant..."
A look of blank terror flitted over those slim features, was quickly hidden beneath a wide, forced smile. "Ne, what're you talking about? I-I...I didn't mean--"
"MIAAAAKA! MIAKA!"
The voice cut through his words, was soon punctuated by the rustle of leaves and the thud of many feet. A moment later, three familiar figures burst out from the nearby forest, began to run towards them.
Miaka blinked, eyes going wide in startled confusion. "T-Tamahome? Hotohori? Tasuki? Why..."
"Miaka!" Tamahome exclaimed. A moment later, he'd crossed the distance between them, brushed past Nuriko, and grabbed the girl into his embrace. He clung to her tightly, his breath coming in harsh, angry gasps. "Bakayarou!" he managed, pulling her closer and pressing his cheek against her own. "Never do that again. I was so worried..."
Nuriko crept forward, tapped the younger man gently on the shoulder. "Ne, Tama-chan," he said a bit dryly, "she probably needs to breathe."
Miaka stared at the violet-haired boy from over Tamahome's shoulder, tried to find the words to apologize...but, Tamahome was holding her tightly, his distinctive smell surrounding her, enwrapping her in warmth and safety and love...and, no words would come. But, for an instant, her eyes met Nuriko's, and the pain she saw in them was almost unbearable.
//This is what Nuriko feels,\\ she realized, squeezing her eyes closed against that anguish; that longing. //I hurt him...maybe I've been hurting him all along.\\
"Come on," Tamahome said, releasing her but keeping one arm protectively around her shoulder, his eyes dark and teary in the sunlight. "Let's get back to school."
Hotohori glanced at his watch, shook his head slightly. "Iie, Tamahome. We won't make it back in time."
"Fine," the younger man said, "then let's get Miaka back to her house. But, let's not stay here. Miaka, why did you come here, anyway? Why didn't you tell me? I thought something happened to you, or that you and--" He broke off, glanced a bit guiltily away from Nuriko. "I thought something happened to you," he repeated.
"Nehehehehe," Tasuki cackled, taking a long step foward and clapping Tamahome on the back. "Don't listen to him, Miaka. He @#$(@#$(*& thought you and Nuriko had some kinda love affair or something! @@#$*&$ Nuriko...nehehehehehe!"
Nuriko flushed, looked away. "I'll go get the car," he mumbled.
Tasuki stopped short, eyes widening at the reaction. "Ne, Nuriko...it was just a joke..."
The older boy spun on his heel, offered a wide smile that never came close to reaching his eyes. "I know, Tasuki. My parents need the car by four, though. Get Miaka home safe, ne?" He didn't wait for a response, instead turned, hurried into the woods and soon had vanished from sight, nothing but the rhythmic crunch of leaves to give any sign that he'd ever been there at all.
Miaka broke free of Tamahome's arm, took a few tentative steps towards the woods. "N...Nuriko..."
"Miaka?" Tamahome was behind her, then, his hands resting strongly on her shoulders. "Miaka, what's going on?"
//His eyes looked...so sad...\\
Miaka sighed, turned and offered a small smile. "Nothing, Tamahome. Let's go...ne?"
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