Author's Notes: I know, miracles of miracles, I actually posted another chapter in under a week O.o The only credit I can take is the inspiration I got from the countless fans that have posted in regard to this story. All of you are wonderful and I hope I continue to make your reading experience enjoyable :) A very special thanks to my new beta reader, Amy-chan, who put the perfect finishing glaze on this chapter, domo arigatou!

Chapter 12:

"Kuso!"

The loud swear faded away into the distance, save for a distinct muttering that consisted of several other profane expletives. Balancing on one foot, Tasuki strained to reach the boot that was securely stuck in the mud behind him. The brown leather boot finally came free after a moment of good tugging with a loud, sucking plop, sending the maroon clad seishi hopping back a few paces on one foot to regain his balance while he tried to put back on his boot.

When the article was firmly back in place on his foot the red-head sighed and brushed a hand through his spiky forelocks, legs spread and a hand on his hip as he gazed over the mud pocketed roadbed. Why oh why had he stupidly decided to start traveling during the wettest season of the year? He knew the answer to that question however dense some people might think him to be. Damn you, Kouji!

In the warm confines of the impenetrable Reikaku hide-out, taking a vacation for a short while and visiting old friends seemed to be a welcomed and perfectly sane idea. Robbing and pillaging just didn't hold the same excitement when villagers groveled and handed over their goods without a fuss because the thieves had a Suzaku seishi as one of their co-leaders. "Go take a break," Kouji had said. "Th'guys are fine, they're livin it up! But I know ya, Genrou, y'need sum action. Otherwise yer like a caged wolf an I can't have ya bitin off my hand jus cause ya need ta show yer fangs every now n'then."

He supposed he had been getting a little snappish with Kouji and the guys lately. But he'll be damned if that was his fault. It wasn't as though he'd asked to have the spirit of a warrior flowing inside of him, itching to fight and face challenges that would probably kill him, all for the sake of feeling his blood pound furiously through his veins and experience the heated adrenaline of battle. Granted, he wasn't about to hand away his Suzaku given powers if given the chance. He doubted even his final moments on some deserted road somewhere would invoke him to give up his abilities just for a few moments more of life. How many men in the world got to wield a fire spouting iron fan and possess the incredible speed and strength of an ookami anyway?

"Pfft, just you Gen-chan," he snorted, amused at his own train of thought.

He'd made a dreaded stop at his childhood home first, cringing even before he arrived as the loud cat-calls of his mother floated out to reach his ears, a shrill voiced laced with authority that had probably been the cause of Genrou's father never sticking around for long. When he arrived he was welcomed into the bosomed embrace of his mother, fighting back the wave of nausea that always accompanied these encounters. His five sisters hadn't been much better, still treating him like the youngest sibling of the family despite his 18 years. The reason they all weren't married off yet was painfully obvious to him, as each one only reminded him of his mother in some, inwardly cringing way. They'd petted and cooed over his sparkly jewelry and fitted him up with this oh-so-stylish tunic that really brought out the red flecks in his amber eyes, or so they'd said. He'd only allowed them so much liberty with his looks, because when they'd brought out the knife to trim his hair, he knew his visit was going to be a lot shorter than he'd planned.

Genrou wasn't really a bad son; no, just adventurous and free spirited. His mother had known since Genrou's birth of the fate that awaited her youngest child, the destiny of being a Suzaku seishi and fighting alongside the rest of the celestial warriors to protect their miko's wishes, even to the death. He sometimes wondered if that's why she'd coddled him so much, afraid to let him go and grow up to be the man he was meant to be. Not like that had stopped him though. If anything it had made him grow stronger as a fighter, constantly trying to push back the memories of never being allowed to fall and get hurt, always surrounded by doting women who protected his childish body, sheltering him from the evils of the world with chores and seeking to fatten him with contentment. But his warrior spirit won out in the end, and by the age of 11 he was head of his own childhood gang and spitting fire any way he could. The poor animals of his home village soon learned where to keep away from.

By the time he was 15 and old enough to be feared by the village shopkeepers who blinked nervously every time he entered their shops, Shun'u knew he was destined for bigger and better things. His mother had tried to deter him, using his destiny as a bargaining chip, a reason for him to stay home and not follow a path of thievery and the life of a gangster. That had sealed it for him. Whatever his mother wanted him to be he would fight to be the opposite. So one day he had simply walked out of town, but not before snagging some food and money off a vendor's cart. He was going to arrive at the western capitol of Souun and make a proper, manly name for himself. The fact that he was waylaid by a few pesky bandits and saved by Reikaku's leader Hakurou was an unexpected but advantageous turn of events that he couldn't pass up. And the rest, they say, is history.

But visiting his family had been a week ago. He'd managed to stay one night before he nearly ran screaming out of the house the next day, feigning an excuse of needing to do business for the Empress. Hey, sometimes being a godly warrior had its benefits. After making a few stops at the local hotspots and making sure that all of his Mt. Reikaku protected land was in order, he graciously accepted the gift of a decent traveling horse and all its baggage from a swindler that had made the mistake of setting up a small wagon-based shop in his town. He'd ridden the long way around the mountain into Souun after that, refreshing his contacts with the city based thieves and checking on business in general. Those errands had finally ended two days ago.

So then, why in the four god's names was he on this mud splattered road, dodging puddles and wheel rutted death traps that had already ended up coating his boots and legs in an attractive color of yellow-brown?

"I am not lost." Sure you're not, an inner voice taunted. Perhaps he was a tiny bit out of his way though. He'd started riding east after Souun, not exactly sure where he was going, perhaps braving the capitol if he found himself getting that far. Houki-sama would be sure to set him up for awhile, but the chances of seeing the ailing Empress would be nill. She had given birth what, just six months ago? The whole province had been in celebration over that, especially given the gender of the child. Their empire now had a new heir. But according to Genrou's sources and a well kept quiet rumor, the Empress had never fully recovered from the delivery and spent most of her days in bed, quietly tending her baby that some say had never cried, even at birth. Maybe he would stop in at Eiyou, give his congratulations and see if he could do anything to help. But not before he'd traced down another lead.

He'd been using his bandit instincts and was following on the lead of a few strange rumors, which he made him want to laugh at their audacity but speculate on the strangeness of them. Rumor one: that a Buddhist monk with blue hair had been spotted by one of his men during a supply run in a city to the east ­ ok, check for last Suzaku seishi. Rumor two: a Suzaku warrior was rumored to have been seen staying in an inn with a pretty young woman ­ well scratch that for being Chichiri. Genrou doubted the monk could stand women any more than he could, considering he'd never shown any interests remotely like those of Nuri, Tama, or Hotohori, or had had a girlfriend like Mitsukake did. Rumor three: a strange looking hermit with a mask had taken up residence in an abandoned house outside of the same city his man had reported from ­ Tasuki had a feeling not too many people in the world wore magical masks, so that was a big check for his Suzaku companion.

Now it wasn't his fault that he was a sucker for hard cases. When he'd come across the woman and little girl on the roadside and found out their house had caught fire from a tree that had been hit by lightening, what could he do but offer up his free horse and most of the money on its back? It wasn't like he had need of that stuff anyway. But now he was horseless and the pack of food slung over his shoulder he'd taken from the horse was running low. He'd skirted around the beforementioned city when he'd finally arrived yesterday, not really feeling up to drawing attention to his presence there. Being Mt. Reikaku's leader and a seishi went hand in hand for him, which meant that somebody was going to be an idiot and try to prove themselves against him. Needless to say the brawny idiot ended up getting fried in the end, literally, but the reputation damage from fighting in the streets usually forced Tasuki to leave town asap. This time he opted for pitching a small camp in the woods off the main road and surviving on the rations he had. Not too bad really, except when it came to finding a patch of dry ground.

The big rainstorm that had hit the eastern provinces while he was in Souun had paved the way for several smaller storms that sprinkled their way across the southern country, never letting the roads become entirely dry, which created the deep mud puddles that were constantly trying to swallow his shoes. What he wouldn't give to have that horse back right now.

He rounded a bend in the brown road and gratefully stepped onto a small wooden bridge suspended over a steadily flowing river, swelled nearly to the top of its banks by the excessive rain water it had accumulated. The sun was shining brightly between gigantic white puffy clouds with light gray bottoms, all against a deep blue sky that seemed to mock the recently overcast skies they'd had. Having been there the whole time behind the stormy rain clouds, washing itself clean until it reflected the color of the bluest ocean, and now on display for the world to see after the dreary days of before.

It was all quite beautiful, though somewhat blinding while the golden sunlight sparkled off the running water, and Genrou paused a moment on the bridge to shield his eyes while he looked around.

"Hmmm?"

Upstream a bit from his vantage point a young woman was hauling a large bucket filled with water out of the river. Her reddish hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she seemed to be wearing normal peasant clothing, knee length dress over a pair of pants and a dark blue jacket. A bit uncommon of a color to see be worn by common folks, but he'd seen worser things in his life than a bad taste in clothing. She hadn't noticed him watching her though and turned to shuffle back into the woods, carrying the sloshing bucket unsteadily between her knees.

An amused smirk alighted on Genrou's face and after a second's contemplation he shrugged. What the heck, he'd been doing so many good deeds already that adding another to the list wouldn't hurt. Setting off at a brisk stride he walked off the bridge and followed the road as it curved to the left, finding himself now walking down a thickly tree lined path. His amber eyes darted into the brush on his left, searching for any sign of the girl who was due to come out of the tree line any moment now.

At a faint rustle he paused, walked another two steps down the road, then stopped and crossed his arms while he waited for the girl to emerge with her load.

After less than a minute she did, and stopped with her mouth hanging open in surprise at the sight of the man standing before her. It opened and shut like a fish gasping for air for a few seconds before settling into a startled 'o'. "Tasuki-san?" She blinked.

Well, he was getting to be a lot more famous than he thought. "Th'one an only," he grinned, flashing his fangs.

A look of puzzlement crossed her face momentarily before it cleared and look of concentration settled in her eyes. That too passed after a second and she smiled. "I suppose I better invite you over for tea." Her words were halting and spoken with a slight accent he couldn't place, but in comparison it wasn't much worse than his own broken bandit speech.

He laughed, admiring her candor. Most women to him were like his sisters, overpowering and squealing, always trying to touch and make a mess of everything. He shuddered to think of the time he got caught in a mob of crazy girls that had created a local fan club devoted to admiring one of the last two remaining seishi. "Ya dun have steamed buns by n-e chance, do ya?" he asked hopefully, taking the bucket from her red and swollen fingers.

She sighed gratefully and wiggled her frozen fingers experimentally. "I'll see what I can do," she promised, and smiled before continuing down the road, a bucket carrying Suzaku seishi in tow.

Soon enough they cleared the woods and came upon a lonely house sitting on a patch of open field, the sound of the running river coming from some distance behind the structure. The coincidence of a single home outside of the city was not lost on Genrou, and curiously he wondered if perhaps this girl might know of Chichiri's whereabouts, considering they seemed to be in about the same area. Only there were no other houses in sight, strangely enough.

The girl walked up to the door and placed her hand upon the worn wood surface a moment before pushing in, the thin door opening soundlessly on its hinges as it swung into the fire-lit house. Keeping the door open she ushered him inside and pointed towards the fireplace, where a kettle was sitting on the hearth waiting to be hung over the flames. As he crossed the room she closed the main door and walked over to another that was resting closed on the left wall. She poked her head inside the next room quietly, became satisfied with whatever she saw in there, and turned around to shut that door behind her as well.

"Whatcha got in ther?" Genrou asked while tipping the edge of the bucket over the kettle.

"My... senpai," she answered hesitantly. The blue jacket she had been wearing was shrugged off and placed on a wooden chair against the wall. "He's been sick for a few days, but you should be able to see him later."

She moved over to the fireplace to reach for the kettle, but Genrou beat her to it and hefted the heavy iron pot onto the hook inside the cooking hearth. It was a wonder she had been able to lift it herself before, she was such a small looking thing, all curves and no muscle. In the orange firelight the dark circles under her eyes seemed to spring to life, telling of many sleepless nights, probably caring for the ailing senpai in the other room. "He gonna be ok?" Genrou inquired with concern.

She nodded and sat down at the edge of the table, taking in hand a mortar and pestle that had some green and brown flaky bits crushed inside of it. Genrou eyed the table now, noticing the packages of medicine and stalks of fresh herbs that were neatly arranged on a piece of white linen. Her hand drifted over to pick up a green sprig with large green leaves, holding it up to her nose and sniffing it carefully before plucking off a single leaf and dropping it into the bowl to crush it with the rest of the herbs. The faint smell of mint wafted up to Genrou's nose. "Wha's all that?"

She started at the sound of his voice, as though she'd momentarily forgotten his presence, but then smiled and motioned for him to sit down on the bench opposite her. "Vervain," she began, pointing to the small pile closest to them. "Yarrow, skullcap, kudzu, echinacea, ginger, ginseng, knotweed, astragalus, cassia tora, mint, licorice, black berry, and hops." This last one she picked up and poised above the dish, ready to drop in, but then seemed to think better of it and put the herb back in its pile.

At Genrou's questioning look she flashed an amused smile and satisfied his curiosity. "Hops helps with sleep. But I think I should give him something to help him wake up, since you're here." Her hand drifted over the pile, a look of contemplation on her face, before selecting a small pinch of ginseng and tossing it in the tea mixture. When the whole concoction had been ground into a fine powder the kettle rumbled nosily with the boiling water inside it and she hopped up to hoist the pot off the fire.

Suppressing a smile at her oblivious attitude of him and single-mindedness on the task at hand he watched her set down the iron kettle on the table, gingerly holding the handle with a discarded rag probably used solely for that purpose. She glanced around herself then bent down to pick up a tea cup sitting on the stones in front of the hearth, giving it a quick rinse in the bucket before drying it off with the edge of her skirt. With controlled movements she measured out the crushed herbs into the bottom of the tea cup, then reached to grip the kettle's handle, only to find Genrou's hand there instead.

"Not s'fast, nee-chan," he chided. "Let me pour. Tha' damned thing's gotta weigh a ton."

She laughed and stepped back. "As you wish, Tasuki-san."

When the water had been added she picked up the cup and gently swirled the contents, watching the liquid carefully as if it might suddenly change color on her. Whatever had taken place seemed to satisfy her though and she picked up a small wooden stirrer, using it to blend the tea's herbs thoroughly.

"Nee-chan?" Tasuki interrupted as he set the kettle back on the fire. "Ya still havn told me yer name yet."

"Oh, damn," she muttered and laughed tiredly, the emotion not reaching her eyes as she set the cup on the table top. "My name's Marissa. Mari is what everyone calls me." A stray piece of hair came loose from the steam and fell forward over her shoulder, causing her to tuck it back slowly behind her ear. "I suppose... you should come see... my senpai now."

Now why was she sounding so hesitant? "Hey, stop actin' like ya got a demon back in there or somthin," he teased, watching her flush uncomfortably. She didn't bother retorting and instead shrugged her shoulders before picking up the cup of tea. Turning she walked to the side door and pushed it open slowly, not a sound emanating from the hinges on this one either.

By the time Genrou had gotten around the table she'd disappeared into the room, and feeling a little more awkward at being a stranger in the house, he approached the open door slowly. Peeking around the edge of the frame, his mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight before him.

"Chichiri!?"

Marissa let out a hiss of annoyance from her perch on the edge of the bed beside Chichiri's sleeping form. This was exactly why she'd delayed Tasuki seeing Chichiri. She knew his reaction would be loud and volatile, at best. So ignoring his shocked expression she reached out and gently shook Chichiri awake, watching his eye open unfocusedly before it settled on her and sharpened. She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, no da," he muttered hoarsely, followed shortly after by a few coughs.

Tasuki was by the bedside now and looking down at the ill seishi with shock. "How th' fuck did he get like this?" he demanded angrily.

Chichiri seemed to start at the sound of the bandit's voice and strained to look up at the red head. "Ohaiyo, Tasuki-kun no da. Did you come to have breakfast with us no da?"

Tasuki sported a dead panned expression at the monk's words before running a hand through his hair and glaring at Marissa, silently demanding an answer lest she be charred alive by two simple words. For the girl's sake she actually looked a bit nervous as she helped Chichiri sit up in bed and propped a pillow behind his back. "He got caught out during the big rainstorm," she explained, placing the warm cup of tea between Chichiri's pale fingers. "He's a lot better now than he was, but he still needs a few more days..."

"Dai-jo-bu no da," Chichiri muttered stubbornly behind his mug, now more fully awake and making a face at the slightly bitter liquid in his cup.

"Drink it," Marissa commanded tiredly as she tugged up the blankets and secured them around his lower ribs. For some funny reason Tasuki had a feeling this wasn't the first time these two had shared this conversation.

Obediently Chichiri blew into the cup then took a longer sip, face wrinkling slightly at the flavor. Under Marissa's steady gaze he took another long drink, reducing the contents of the cup by half, then handed it back to her to be put on the small table beside the bed. When she sat back upright she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder. "Marissa," Chichiri began, studying her tired face and the dark circles under her eyes with concern. "I really am grateful for all this, but you need to rest too no da."

Tasuki was thoroughly confused by this time, because now they were speaking in an entirely different language, not to mention ignoring him while he stood intruding on their conversation. Then again, the fact that he couldn't understand a word Chichiri had said really didn't make much difference then, did it.

"I'm fine," Marissa answered, forcing a smile. "You're a lot more important and if I wasn't here to take care of you no one would have been. So there. Plus I've learned a ton about medicine." She gave a genuine chuckle at the last statement.

"But Tasuki-kun's here now no da," he pointed out, determined to win the argument this time.

Marissa shook her head stubbornly. "He wouldn't know how to make the teas for you, or know where anything is in the house, and" she bit her lower lip, not sure how to voice her next words.

Chichiri raised an eyebrow curiously. "Does it have something to do with the future no da?"

A half snort, giggle, escaped from Marissa's mouth. "No no, I just I like taking care of you, and I don't trust anyone else to do it." She glanced sideways at Tasuki, realizing that he had gratefully stayed quiet through this exchange of unfamiliar language.

"Iie, I won't allow it no da," he protested, switching back to Japanese and looking at Tasuki. "Tasuki-kun, Mari needs to rest for awhile. You'll take care of things no da?"

"Eh?" Tasuki blinked at suddenly finding himself included back in the conversation. "Ya... of course I will ya idiot! Whatcha doin, tryin to kill yerself takin care of him? Jus leave everythin up t'Genrou." A patented fanged grin flashed through the room.

Marissa shot one more pleading look at the two seishi, then sighed in resignation when only their matched looks of stony resolve stared back. "Ok ok," she muttered, sliding off the bed to reach underneath for the blankets kept there. "I'm only gonna take a short..." a wide yawn halted her speech, as though her body had suddenly switched off at the prospect of much needed sleep. "Nap," she muttered, standing up with two thick blankets in her arms.

Tasuki had stepped back from the bed and was now giving Chichiri a look that said, 'She's your roommate, you handle it.'

"Mari-chan, I think you should take the bed," Chichiri offered quickly, sliding out from under the covers before she could make her way to the other side of the room.

"Ya, nee-chan," Tasuki chimed in, steering a surprised Marissa back towards the bed with a no-arguing grip on her shoulders. In a matter of seconds the blankets were plucked from her hands, the bed covers turned down, the pillows fluffed, and she found herself laying on her back looking up astonished at the two seishi.

"Sleep for as long as you need, Marissa no da," Chichiri commanded softly, petting her head before drawing up the blankets and sealing her underneath their comforting warmth.

She opened her mouth to retort, but gave up when another yawn locked up her throat and managed to squeeze a tear from her eye. "Insufferable," she muttered, rolling over on to her side. The last thing she heard was Chichiri's quiet chuckle as he and Tasuki left the room.