Chapter 14:

The dishes had been put away and the soup hung lukewarm over the fire. The table was cleared of the medicines that had lain upon it for days and the floor swept clean of the mud that had been tracked in by several pairs of feet. One window open, the other closed, letting fresh cold air trickle its way into the room and feed the fire the glowed warmly in the stone hearth. A smell of chicken broth laced with spices and vegetables permeated the small room, leaving the tongue to salivate and the stomach to rumble in remembered satisfaction of a good meal. There were no sounds save that of the crackling fire, popping unexpectedly as the flames consumed a piece of green wood, though those moments were few and far between. It was an atmosphere meant for contemplation, thoughts coaxed forward from the recesses of the mind to come to the forefront, where they may be turned over and studied under closer scrutiny. The mind now both the scientist and the experiment, containing the logic reasoning and the unexpected variables that needed to be sorted and placed away in memory for future reference, dual roles that no other situation is capable of reproducing.

It was in this deep state that Tasuki left Chichiri in, wishing his goodnights to the monk and promising not to snore too loud for Mari-chan's sake. A faint nod was the single reply he received and it took all of the bandit's restraint not to throw out a couple of words that might plunge Chichiri's thoughts into embarrassing and probably unfamiliar water. This was the man's time for thinking, not the smiling monk, and respectfully Tasuki chose to end the night's reunion with only an oyasumi nasai. He could tell by the few times that he tried to steer the conversation towards the sleeping girl in the next room that she was a delicate subject with the other remaining seishi. That she was his student he had gathered from the first words out of Chichiri's mouth; that she was his friend, a statement made strongly clear by his earlier outburst; and that she was perhaps something more, a feeling that Tasuki got whenever he ventured too close to matters of the heart during their conversations. It would be interesting to see what the morning might bring.

Slouching wasn't something that Chichiri would normally do, but the gentle warmth of the fire and the inward state of his mind forced his body to relinquish the rigid posture it usually held and let himself slide down in the wooden chair, ankles crossed and hands clasped resting over his stomach. Chin nestled comfortably on top of his chest and single eye watching the dancing flames, he was the perfect depiction of a man that would continue to sit and think through the worst natural disaster. Emotions subtly played over his face but catching their passing was difficult and brief. A face too long accustomed to passive indifference, solemn features that were trained to soften the appearance of his scarred eye. To smile, grimace, or frown would draw attention to the moving muscles that shifted under his scars, the eyes of the observer drawn away from paying attention to stare unabashedly at his deformity.

That's what it was really, a deformity. Not one that was given by birth, but by action. Normal people weren't scarred like this. Soldiers wounded in great wars came back with missing limbs and battle scars to show their family and frighten the village children with, a reminder of how close they had come to dying. It was a symbol of life and its regenerative properties, how a life could be spared by the gods but in return the body would forever carry evidence of that brush with death. Normal, good people didn't have scars like he did. Only those who were branded for their crimes, scars of the whip, chains, knife, a tattoo sketched painfully into the skin to tell the rest of the world of the crime that had been committed. If those horrid displays made people cringe in terror or turn around and walk the other direction, they were right in doing so. 'This man is dangerous,' those scars said. 'He's a murderer, a killer, a sadist, a creature not worth breathing the same air as you!'

Sighing, Chichiri brushed a hand over his face, rubbing away the moisture that had slowly collected in his eye, finger tips gently brushing over the familiar raised skin that touched the top of his nose. The faint sting in his heart was there that always accompanied these thoughts. Even after years of hearing them echo in his mind the numbness he wished for just wouldn't come. They still hurt in their truth. Circumstances or not, he had led to the death of his two best friends. And the worst part about it, the fact that ate away at his conscious and gave him sleepless nights of morose wondering, was that it wasn't their deaths that he mostly regretted; but that he never got to know the truth. The one thing that might have set him free.

When he tried to collect his memories of the whole mess they seemed disjointed and unclear, like a part of him was struggling to suppress them, while another was trying to keep them alive to always remind him of his actions that led to their deaths. He had adored Koran his whole life, him and Hikou both, she was their little sister but also their equal, someone to protect and play with and laugh along with. Not until he was 17 and considered a marriageable age did he begin to see her in a new way. Koran had grown beautiful with maturity and Houjun had found himself growing more and more attracted to her, parts of his mind and body awakening to the blossomed woman before him. With the realization of his love his parents had immediately sought to solidify their joining. It had begun that day, he at Koran's house, elated at her parent's agreement to their marriage. On his way home to tell his family he'd run into Hikou and couldn't help but spill the news to his best friend. Excited and spurred on by Hikou's good wishes he'd gone home, told his family, only to be handed a family heirloom by his mother to give to Koran. A hairpin of exquisite beauty, his mother confessed to having always wanted to give Houjun's childhood friend the piece, knowing that it would look beautiful on her the day she got married.

His memories began to fall into their normal routine, moments being brought back to life, the story spinning itself out without his help anymore. Back to Koran's house, impatient and excited, wanting to see her smile when she saw the gift. Not home, having taken a walk with Hikou. Searching, walking, so happy, and then... to see them. Embracing. Hiding behind the tree, not even feeling the hashi fall from his fingers, watching Hikou hold her, her pressing to him, feeling the shock and heart ripping pain... Running home blindly, locking himself in his room, crying and crying all night, to awake to the sound of rain falling steady and hard. The threat of flooding came so quickly, never a moment to confront Hikou or Koran, in two days they were getting ready to move and Houjun was sent to retrieve his future bride from her home. Hope, blind hope that perhaps he had been wrong, that they'd been merely playing with him. And Koran, shrieking at the sight of him, falling to her knees and cowering in her sleeves, speaking between sobs the words that ripped the final pieces of his heart.

A knife laying atop the desk they wrote on together, sharp from decoration and unuse, running, running with rage through the rain. Hikou, coming back to Koran's house, no! Not this time, this time you won't have her! Yelling, chasing after him, Hikou backing away, moving closer to the swelled river. A blind swipe, seeing bright red ooze from the cut on Hikou's arm. The sight of having actually drawn the blood of his best friend holding him in shock long enough for Hikou to knock away the blade and grab hold of his wrists. Anger rising again at being restrained and denied a weapon. 'Give her back!' he had yelled, watching Hikou's face dawn with understanding. But no explanation, no words came from his lips. A step back too far, the mud giving way, finding the wind knocked out of him as he fell hard to the earth, one hand still clutched tightly by his friend.

'Houjun!' he had cried, desperately, remorsefully, clutching at his lifeline, and in that moment Houjun had forgiven his best friend. He pulled and pulled so hard, but the river was so fast, and then the log came out of no where. Pain so intense speared through his skull, feeling the hot blood covering his face, tasting the copper on his tongue, and the last sensation left to his awareness of Hikou's fingers slipping through his grip. Not only had he led to the death of his best friend, but he hadn't even given him the chance to explain. Neither from Koran, who had left with her fleeing family, only to have their wagon swept away into the water by the final deluge. The destruction of his own home and those in it he had learned about after waking up in the village healer's hut, the floods long since passed and the bodies that were found buried. He'd never had a chance to hear them explain why.

That was where the shame came from, the guilt of his actions. To have been consumed so utterly by his emotions to the point of blind rage and near madness. Never once in his life did the possibility of such anger seem possible, never once had he felt such hurt and betrayal to warrant the same reaction. Perhaps that was why, the first time being subjected to that much pain made it all the worse. To have the two people you loved most in life suddenly turn around and throw your feelings back in your face. No, it wasn't their fault. There had to be a reason for what he saw. But he had been such a stupid, overreacting teenager that he'd never even let them come to him and explain. Instead he'd picked up a knife and gone after his best friend. How could he have been so stupid? Because of him his family had delayed leaving, thinking he was too ill to be moved. Because of him Koran had gone with her own family and died. Because of him Hikou drowned in the river. Because of him, the three of them would never grow old together like they'd promised.

Chichiri groaned quietly and shut his eye, feeling the onset of tears wanting to spill forth. It always went like this, the guilt and anger turning into sadness and depression. Several deep breaths later the tight clenching in his chest had subsided somewhat and he pushed himself upright in the chair, now feeling hot and oppressed under the heavy wool blanket. He rose slowly, feeling his legs protest after being stretched out in the same position for so long. Dropping the blanket on the bench he walked over to the open window, peering outside into the dark night. The stars were out and shining like jewels, perfectly clear all the way down to the edge of the horizon, not a single wave of heat distorting the air. The sky was completely empty of clouds, such a strange site to see after so many days of rain. The grass, trees, the air, everything seemed to sparkle with an ethereal silver from the glowing moon that had just risen. He couldn't be sure how long he had been sitting there thinking, probably hours by the position of the moon and the low burning fire.

Not surprisingly he wasn't tired in the least. He had Marissa to thank for that, her care of him and adamant attitude of him getting plenty of rest had created a lot of excess sleep time. He could afford to pull an all nighter tonight if he chose to. Yet to do what, continue to be haunted by his demons of the past? It sounded like the lame man's excuse for solitude, but that was usually the way of things for him. They seemed to be coming on strong tonight, though Chichiri couldn't blame them. He'd been suppressing them for so long, throughout all of their adventures as seishi and now during his new role in life. However if he was going to be truthful with himself a better way to put it might be that someone else was suppressing them for him. There hadn't been one sleepless night after Marissa had come. Too worried and concerned about the injured girl, too focused on her lessons, too aware of her presence to think of much else, especially about the deaths and unanswered questions that weighed so heavily on his soul.

"Yer too damn serious," Tasuki had muttered at one point during their conversation. Inwardly smirking Chichiri had to admit that phrase summed him up pretty well. Though that one comment Marissa had made awhile ago seemed to beat them all hands down. "You Gemini's, you're always two completely different people." He hadn't known what Gemini meant at the time but after an explanation he was almost glad to admit that his birth sign from her world described him better than most people realized. The chibi smiling monk, and the serious wizened man. Two extreme opposites that one would never think to find together in the same body.

Both sides were completely him, two aspects of the same person. Not many knew of his childhood antics as a boy, the laughter he could evoke from the villagers just from running around like a creature half his normal height. He was a favorite of many, able to be all smiles and jokes one moment, then a studious and thoughtful youth the next. Two sides to the same coin. As he'd grown older the looks he'd received from his peers and the adults caused his childish antics to nearly come to a stop, except those few times while with his two best friends. They had always understood him and loved him for both personalities that he possessed. In return for their love and understanding he could always make them laugh one minute, or follow along in a serious discussion the next, the perfect companion.

Out of the seishi it seemed not one had really come to understand him. He wouldn't be surprised if they had all thought his playful nature was entirely an act. Even Tasuki, the only other remaining survivor, still seemed lost when it came to Chichiri's dual personalities. They had all called him weird at first, both for the mask and the antics, but in the face of danger most first impressions were lost to be replaced by a need to gain power. And power was something he could give them, a fact that earned him respect and an acceptance of his sometimes unusual actions. Miaka was the one exception, who always seemed to take for granted the abilities of the people that protected her, barely flinching when something new and strange appeared. If he didn't know better he might have guessed that she was behaving as though it were all a dream or a fantasy, always expecting the unexpected. The others were more realistic though and saw just how strange Chichiri really was. Truthfully they were all unique in their own way, each having probably lived through childhoods of being taunted and secluded for the powers they possessed, which formed a bond between them that their priestess was probably never aware of. But being caught up in your own battles doesn't leave much time for chatting about the past. In the end, with the miko back in her world and her soulmate soon to follow, and the souls of the seishi scattered apart once again, it was too late to bother explaining his personality to anyone.

That is until this newest oddity popped into his life. He could still remember the first time he'd gone chibi on Marissa. Her eyes had nearly popped out of her head in surprise, pushing Chichiri's playful side to spring loose and torment the poor girl for a few minutes with magic tricks and loud exclamations of, "DA!" She had been laughing nearly to the point of tears by the end, her inability to catch her breath the only reason that he was forced to stop and let her rest. Sometimes that side of him was just screaming to be let out, feeling bogged down by the constant state of seriousness that Chichiri tended to keep himself in. He was both solitary and social, each side struggling to be turned loose, and sometimes he couldn't help but let that childish side leak out and try to earn a laugh or two to appease his heart. The seishi were the first people since Hikou and Koran that he had let see that side, and now her.

Finding the need to move, as the cool breeze flowing in was quickly cooling him down from the warm cocoon he'd been wrapped in from the fire, he walked back over to the chair and sat down with a grunt, hearing the legs squeak and rattle. With hands clasped atop his thighs he listened to the sounds of the house, Tasuki's quiet snores drifting out from the other room. After a time the bed creaked sharply with movement, a young woman's body turning over while wrapped in the comfort of sleep. If he expanded his senses further he could feel her chi, a gentle pulsing warmth tinged with purple that was strongly familiar, even more so now than the orange chi that emanated from the fiery seishi. Feeling adventurous he pressed closer, though not enough to wake her, brushing against her mind with his and feeling that link spring alive which had existed between them the moment he'd tapped into her memories. It was a bond closer than anything he and Taiitsukun had ever shared. She was warm and alive, dotted with bright points of dreams, interests, aspirations, and desires.

It was a beautiful painting to his senses, so full of potential and innocence. Yet beneath it he could detect a faint undercurrent of darkness, a thin line of worry and hard kept secrets. He had known it was there since the moment she arrived, the emotions associated with it only growing stronger with time. He had always attributed it to her knowledge of the future, having to keep that large of a secret from him. When they'd first met and she was still untrained he could have easily pushed into her mind and plucked out the information without her ever knowing. But now after months of training she had grown stronger, managing to put up her own protective barriers that even he would be hard pressed to get through, perhaps unsuccessful if he tried. Things had changed since then between them, and after what had happened that night a week ago he was starting to wonder what would happen if he did.

Of course he would never violate her privacy in such a way, but the curiosity was there, having grown stronger each day he'd lain in bed, reflecting over the entire encounter in his head. Their minds had touched in a way that was more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced. And Suzaku help him, she was beautiful. So bright and warm and caring, wrapping around him in an embrace that went beyond anything something physical could achieve. She had shared his pain and openly poured out her care for him, shocking him all the way to his core by the sheer quantity of emotions he had felt. All for him. Why in the four gods names should such a wonderful woman feel that for him? Him of all people. It was overwhelming and unbelievable and completely crazy. But what scared him most of all, was that he wanted to believe in it.

He realized that now. The reasons behind the question he had asked her while they were connected, the curious nature he'd always possessed awakening at the prospect of a challenge, a mystery asking to be solved. One part of him, the sick feverish part that was struggling for control had been dreading the answer she might give, afraid of it being too much too soon, of having his heart exposed in a moment when he couldn't control it. Another part of him, suddenly curious, almost flirty, replied with words that could easily be interpreted one way or the other, a part of him hoping she would see them truthfully. Yet what was the truth? He wasn't even sure he knew that himself, so how could he hope that she would view them a certain way? All he had known at that moment was that he wanted to hear something badly, a confession of sorts, a reason explaining how she could be so kind to him yet ask for nothing else in return.

But she had pulled away from him, ripped out of their connection, and that undercurrent of apprehension had suddenly flared to life with emotions so powerful they left a blazing trail in her fleeing wake. That confused him most of all, of why she should associate her thoughts about the future with her feelings for him. And what feelings were those? He considered them friends, teacher and student, roommates, companions, and confidants... up to a point. There was always that, the unspoken barrier between them; she for her knowledge of the future, he for his deeds of the past. But what if those barriers didn't exist? Somehow, hopefully, Chichiri wondered if things might have been different.

A moment to be honest with himself, he was a man of truth and knowledge after all. What exactly were his feelings towards her? What were those answers that Tasuki had been so curious to pry out of him? Marissa wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty in her own way, vivid brown eyes that tended to speak volumes more than her lips ever could. Ah her lips, those had been an interesting observation point to Chichiri on more than one occasion, he was a man after all. Full and pouty and always a healthy color of dark pink, often pulling back into a wide smile that lit up her entire face, making it hard for him to resist returning the expression. He'd encountered his share of beautiful woman, many of them living within the walls of the Emperor's palace, but somehow the simple homespun look that Marissa seemed to have adopted so easily appealed to him more. It was just like him, rugged, functional, proclaiming herself an adventurer and a hard worker.

There were other things beyond her physical self that managed to warm his insides just by recalling them. Life just seemed so much more... hopeful, with her around. Each day more promising. It was the unknown, not sure what the day might bring while having someone else there to share it with and make it different. She was intelligent, a great conversationalist, determined, fun, but sometimes a complete mystery to him. She was extremely knowledgeable about some things, the stars for instance, yet absolutely clueless about others, like bartering and making teas. She knew everything about the Suzaku seishi, right down to the characters of their names, but didn't know of more than two cities in Konan. The best part about their relationship was that there always seemed to be something they could teach each other, yet they knew each other as intimately as... as...

Dampening a blush at the term Chichiri's mind had been almost too eager to use at describing his and Mari's relationship he shifted his position in the chair, reaching up after a moment to scratch at a bothersome itch on his jaw. The action reminded him again of the fact that he hadn't worn his mask the entire time he'd been ill. He didn't remember it falling off, though overall he couldn't recall much from that night, save for their brief encounter of the minds. Beyond the seishi she was the first he had allowed to see his face uncovered. It was always a tool for him to bring out his serious side, making others realize the gravity of his words just by holding them in a solid gaze with one eye. With her however, and he was almost embarrassed to admit this, his mask had not always been off during times of seriousness. It was hard not to fall into a comfortable routine while living with someone, barriers got dropped and excessiveness gets replaced by laziness. Over the past few months he'd found himself rising in the morning and not automatically reaching for the article of disguise, a realization that made him both nervous and elated. Glad that she was so comfortable around him to never warrant him needing to put on the mask, nervous because it was the first time in 4 years he'd found himself not needing it.

He'd worn it in the first place for the Nyan who'd been frightened from seeing his scars, a painful reminder to him of Koran's own shriek when he'd entered her house on that final day. Frightening little girls was not what he had intended to do in life so he took advantage of the cheerful cover, finding that people preferred a smiling mask to a horribly disfigured face. The seishi he had been more open with, but the embarrassment of his scars and the silent questions everyone had about them encouraged him to keep up the smiling monk persona as long as he could. He was grateful for the cover, having lived with his scars exposed to the world for three years, wandering from town to town, feeling the guilt inside him sharpen whenever someone curious asked about their origins. But in complete contrast to nearly everyone else he had met, Marissa had never once asked about their origins. He had a sneaking feeling now that she might well know where they came from, though how specifically he could not be sure, for if anyone was to know the whole truth he was sure they would denounce him as a friend immediately. So obviously she didn't know everything. Yet because she had never asked he'd had no reason to tell the story, and for that he was grateful. It made him more comfortable around her. They weren't strangers meeting on a dusty road, or destined warriors thrust together to fight a common enemy - they were friends.

Hearing himself say that again brought a long forgotten warmth to his chest, a feeling of happiness at a realization that hadn't made a connection until that moment. They were friends, weren't they? True, close, bonded, trustworthy friends. He hadn't had anything like that since Hikou and Koran, 7 years without anyone who knew him inside and out, who could finish his thoughts for him and understand his jokes. Someone who accepted his personality without batting an eye, who didn't take his powers for granted, who saw him as a man as well as a warrior. A person who, for a small amount of time, could make him forget that there was a world outside the walls they sat inside. With her he could forget his destiny and his duties and free himself, if only temporarily, from the burdens that were constantly nudging at his consciousness. It was something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until she came.

An unnamable void that had existed in his heart up until now suddenly seemed to fill, spilling over with the combined emotions that he was feeling and those she had shown him. She gave and gave so much to him, never asking for a single thing in repayment. If she wanted something she sought out to achieve it on her own, an adorable trait about her that he found both amusing and frustrating sometimes. He had wanted to help her since the moment she approached him at the pond, meekly asking about learning magic. To help her achieve her goals and see her smile with accomplishment was an image that made his heart beat with pride and happiness. It all came back to that question again. Try me... What was it she wanted from him? What was it she couldn't say? He had to know now because he wanted to give it to her, anything she desired, just to make her happy and keep her by his side. She was something he couldn't lose, a ray of light in his life, something he didn't deserve but couldn't push away. Because... because he loved her.

It was like having cold water splashed over him, the startling realization making his head spin uncomfortably. Clenching his hands atop his knees he fought to slow the quickened pace of his heart, wondering why his chest felt so warm when his stomach felt so cold. A strong feeling of dread trying to smother down his sudden happiness. It was the feeling of having one burden lifted only to be replaced by another. He knew the reason why, the same one that wrapped around his heart in a layer of indifference and always whispered reason when he began to question his life. Whatever he might feel, however much he might love someone, he would never be worthy of the return of those feelings. He had committed murder. He was a servant to his god and a warrior of the people, his first duties were to them, not to himself. For the rest of his life he was destined to pay his repentance to the people of this world, whether they were aware of it or not.

Briefly he wondered how Tokaki and Subaru had done it, been able to find happiness and peace in each other while still fighting to keep their country safe. Even after their miko had gone back there was always more to do, people to protect, villains to fight, monsters to exterminate, children to teach. A seishi's job was a life long commitment. Perhaps none of the other warriors would have considered their duties as exactly those tasks, but Chichiri realized they had to be done and at the moment there was no better choice for the job than himself. He had no family to return to, no previous life to take up again. Those he had bonded with among the seishi were dead, gone, or snoring in the next room busy thinking about their own lives. The sad reality was that his life had purpose, but it had no meaning.

And now this with Marissa. She was beautiful and innocent, dropped into their world without warning and bearing news that a terrible future was looming on the horizon. She had never asked to be part of this or suddenly burdened by the knowledge she had accepted as something common in her world. What she did not need right now was the love of a man who could never be more to her than a friend, who was destined to be ripped from her life as surely as Tamahome's had been torn from Miaka's. His heart had pained in sympathy with each of their battles to stay together, so close but still unable to win. He could only hope that Taiitsukun's words had been true and they would find each other in her world and return one day for the memory globes that were safely scattered between the seishi. Never on his life would he burden someone so important to him with that pain. The pain of permanent separation, the loss of not only a friend, but a lover.

He knew that pain, could still remember it even now. The loss of his friends had been the most deeply cutting pain of all these past years, though losing his first love had been the most devastating loss in the beginning. But as the years passed his pain over losing his fiancé had reshaped into the pain of losing his two best friends, both whom he cared equally deep for. It wasn't puppy love this time though, emotions running high and an 18 year old boy answering to the call of his body and what was familiar to his heart. Marissa was raw and different, comforting and enjoyable to be around without years behind them as a foundation. These feelings were new, not better than what he had before, but different. He was in love with a woman not out of duty, or expectations, or because it seemed like the right thing to do. He loved her simply for her, and that made the thought of losing her all the worse.

His first loss had been dealt by a double edged sword, the same fate that would happen with Marissa if he allowed his feelings to come to light. To again lose his friend and the woman he loved, though this time in the same person. Never again would he willingly submit to that pain, or give her cause to experience it either. He cared for her too much. The distance would have to remain between them. It would hurt, though not nearly as much as it could hurt in the future if he chose to pursue it. To be her teacher and friend, loving her from a distance, watching her grow and mature, knowing that it was partly because of him that she was blossoming so well. But most importantly of all - a promise he swore on the names of his dead parents and siblings - to never again let her feel that she was losing him.

A drop in the room's temperature pulled him from his thoughts slowly and vaguely he wondered where the new cool breeze was blowing from. The soft spoken words of his name caused him to look up, only to be rendered momentarily speechless by the beautifully orange lit, bed ruffled woman that stood looking at him worriedly on the other side of the room. In that moment he knew with a dreadful certainty that if she did not go back to bed soon, he might do something they'd both end up regretting.

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