DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fushigi Yuugi.I am merely borrowing the characters for this story. THE RISING SUN is a product of my imagination. The setting is borrowed from Ancient China. Any similarities to characters, currently living or historical, are not intended.

RATING: PG-13

The Rising Sun ©Jez (l.t.s.) 2003.

SUMMARY: AU, romance/drama featuring characters borrowed from Fushigi Yuugi.

AUTHOR'S NOTES (A): This story is constantly under revision.

The Rising Sun
written by Jez (l.t.s.)

PROLOGUE:

Tale of an Execution

Cheng-tu, Szechwan
Western China

Autumn gold had long since faded under the grey white clouds. Paper dry leaves showered the ground in splotches of brown and scarlet, dancing in circles to a hidden tune. A lone set of four white lamps fluttered sorrowfully in the wind. The street was bare. Every door was closed. Not a voice spoke and not a bird chirped. For a while, there were only the murmurs of the wind. Its whisper was ominous.

Clang!

A gong sounded from far away.

Clang, Clang!

Footsteps echoed on the pavement. The announcer's voice was heard even before he appeared.

"All ye citizens of this village, hear ye, hear ye…"

They came aligned in two rows of six with one more at the head, all dressed in plain uniform navy robes with black sash, black boots and black caps, swords at their right sides. Their expressions were hard and cold. Their leader carried a brass gong, which he rapped once, paused and then a rapid twice.

Clang… Clang, clang.

"All ye citizens of this village, listen and listen well…

On this day, at the hour of Wu, Yuk Ming will be executed at the Justice square…"

Clang… Clang, clang.

The villagers huddled in their home, listening in silence to the terrible proclamation. When the hour reaches the Wu margin, they will gather where they have been called to do.

oOo

The white sun moved towards its peak. The old magistrate looked at the sky and frowned, his craggy face twisting into a mask of sadness. The hour was moving fast to midday and soon he would have to issue the order.

He was seated up on a dais, behind a desk of brown indefinable wooden stock, peppered with a quill, an ink stamp, a paper missive stamped with a royal red seal and a short cylinder holding a series of pointed wooden badges each shaped in the form of a sword, all boldly crested with the word justice.

He reached for one badge, lifting it and testing the weight of it in his hands. His thumb traced the familiar character etched onto the wood, his brow furrowed deeply. He didn't know why he hesitated, unwilling to fling it down and his eyes drifted unconsciously to the scene below.

Before him, five steps down and two steps forward, lay a platform raised by two steps. Stone-faced soldiers in scarlet livery lined the sides, their bright spears held at ready for any interruption. Beyond them, a crowd had gathered around the square, their faces grave, their eyes turbulent with some appearing afraid, some concerned, some tearful, and some looking downright angry. Yet none of them dared to voice a word. Most only whispered in hushed tones, wary of any miscalculated word being heard to their detriment.

The selfishness of humanity.

The thought made him sigh sadly. His eyes followed their gaze.

On the stage, a big man stood, shirtless, his skin shiny from sweat. He was clad only in black pants with a bright red bandana over his head and a shiny sabre in his right arm. Before him, a figure in dirty white knelt facing the east, head bowed dejectedly, eyes hidden from the crowd, long hair in disarrayed tangles amassed with dirt and dried blood glinting red in the sun, hands gathered behind and bound so tightly that blood-red lines stained the skin under the ropes. A tree stump chopped within two feet of its roots stood at the centre of the platform with the concentric circles of its wasted bark stained an old brown and crimson. Neither figure moved nor spoke.

A soldier ran up the steps, the sudden movement bringing his attention back to the weight in his hand.

"Your excellency, the hour is at hand."

The magistrate nodded, fingering the wood, feeling an odd reluctance in his soul. He sighed before he spoke.

"Yuk Ming, for the crime of treason, you will be executed to death by decapitation. For the last time, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

All eyes turned to Yuk Ming, the woman kneeling at the chopping block. She raised her head slowly, her solemn eyes filled with the green darkness of an ageless pain. She cast a glance at the magistrate who waited for her reply, at the soldiers who stood by, at the gathered masses and spoke:

"Crimson clouds hold the endless sky
Dragon hopes, phoenix tears slip into the cold ground
A cup of wine drowns the sighs of truth, the golden lies
Only the autumn wind hears the heart that longs, the soul that cries."

A solitary tear fell on the ground. Without another word, she bent and laid her head sideways on the wooden bark, the stench of old blood spilled countless times before burning her eyes.

The magistrate sighed again. He glanced at the soldier waiting at his side and nodded. Then he flung the badge forward, the order of decapitation rife in his spoken word.

"Execute!"

Yuk Ming closed her eyes.

So this was how it all ended.

oOo

AUTHOR'S NOTES (B):

Wu hour - hour of the Horse (11:00 - 12:59 pm).

Yuk Ming Jade Dawn - a chinese name for a girl.

oOo

AUTHOR'S NOTES (C):

Thanks for reading