Author's Note: I have been unable to actually confirm the gender and name
of Miaka and Taka's child, although I heard it was a girl named Hikari. If
this is incorrect, I do apologize. Please inform me, and I will make any
necessary changes. Thank you!
The cool of the night air swept over the boy's face as he looked out over the sprawling cityscape, chilling his flesh enough to make him pull the blanket that lay across his shoulders closer to him. His eyes took in the lights of the streets and the stars, but his mind was on neither. Rather, his thoughts were consumed by the recurring dream he had been having for nearly a week. Every night it was the same: a scroll in flames, a huge bird emerging from the flames with a fire in it's eyes that pierced to his very soul.
Every night he woke with a start from the dream, and every night he felt as though it were more than a fantastical image produced by his mind; it felt like a distant memory, something which he had long ago slipped into the deepest recesses of his consciousness, to sit in relative dormancy forever. But now it was coming back to him...and with each passing night, the bird's piercing eyes felt more real.
Miaka sat up with a start, images of flames and feathers still dancing in her mind, her heartbeat swift. The repeated dreams of the revival of Suzaku woke her night after night, each time bringing mixed feelings of apprehension, as though these were a message from the god that danger was not far behind.
"Miaka?" Came the groggy voice of Taka, the dark-haired man slowly sitting up, the folds of the covers cascading down from his chest to settle in a heap. "What's wrong?"
Miaka looked over at Taka and sighed softly. Her lack of answer was nearly as effective as actually speaking would have been, for Taka understood fairly well, wrapping his strong arms around Miaka's shoulders.
"The dream again?" He asked, quietly, getting a nod in reply, although the nod was nearly unnecessary. After five consecutive nights, a sixth incidence of the recurring dream came as no real surprise.
"What does it mean?" Miaka whispered softly, echoing the question she had asked herself at least fifty times since the first dream. Could it be, she wondered, that this was truly just a random dream? Perhaps her own anxiousness brought on by the first dream had caused its recurrence? She shook her head slowly. There was more to this...and there was nothing she could do but wait until it was revealed.
The sun rose slowly, like a fickle lover returning to her seat in the sky, to kiss beloved earth with her rays once more, brushing away the chill of the spring evening.. The boy leaned against the outside wall of the apartment, starting down at the cityscape once more from his high balcony. It was a quiet morning, over all, and he did not have to be anywhere until mid-afternoon. As such, he suffered from a combination of boredom and the serenity of the morning.
A sound from behind him drew his attention, causing him to turn quickly. A tall man stood there, near the doorway back into the apartment, his cornflower blue hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a baggy white shirt and black pants, as well as a dark blue sash with a strange pattern, and an old-style Chinese hat hung on his back, held there by a string around his neck. There was a strange familiarity about him...
"Chiriko," The man began, breaking the boy's train of thought.
"How do you know my name?" The boy asked, surprised.
"I saw you at your last chess tournament. You're a very skilled player, no da."
Chiriko was a bit taken aback by this. He had never thought that, being a chess player, he would find himself being stalked. One might understand, perhaps even expect such behavior if he were some manner of pop star or something, but young chess players simply were not known for having fanatical followings.
"I'm not here to cause trouble, no da." The man said, as though reading Chiriko's mind, (although it was more likely the uncertain look on the boy's face.)
"Then why are you here?" Chiriko asked, after a few more moments of strained silence. The man just smiled a bit, as though talking with a particularly uninformed child.
"Because I knew you in a past life."
"Miaka, are you even listening?"
Miaka looked up from her own thoughts, gazing up at her husband before flashing a rather innocent smile, accompanied by a shake of her head.
"I'm sorry. I was just thinking. what did you say?" She asked, slipping her arm into the crook of Taka's arm as the two walked down a fairly busy street, fellow pedestrians passing by in a steady stream.
"I said that there's a circus coming to town." Taka repeated. "We should bring Hikari. I think she'd like that."
Miaka smiled and nodded, brushing some hair away from her eyes, absent mindedly taking note of a certain woman who passed by to her left. The woman was a bit taller than her, slender, and had long silver hair that cascaded half-way down her back, decorated with a number of clips and such. Her wardrobe was the thing which Miaka found to be particularly peculiar, though. She wore a long white robe with red trim, and a few odd accessories here and there. In her hands, she carried a scroll, which looked ancient and rather fragile.
After perhaps a second of starting, the woman's gaze lifted and she made eye contact with Miaka. Miaka turned her eyes quickly downward, not wanting to seem rude by staring, but much to her surprise, the woman approached them, quickly..
"Miaka, Tamahome," The woman called, once within a few yards of the two. Taka stopped in surprise, turning as he heard his past-life name.
"Do we know you?" Taka asked, moving closer to Miaka in a protective fashion. The woman simply smiled faintly.
"I am not surprised you do not recognize me." She reached into the loose, baggy sleeve of her robe and produced a glass ball. "You must gather your warriors once more, priestess of Suzaku."
The cool of the night air swept over the boy's face as he looked out over the sprawling cityscape, chilling his flesh enough to make him pull the blanket that lay across his shoulders closer to him. His eyes took in the lights of the streets and the stars, but his mind was on neither. Rather, his thoughts were consumed by the recurring dream he had been having for nearly a week. Every night it was the same: a scroll in flames, a huge bird emerging from the flames with a fire in it's eyes that pierced to his very soul.
Every night he woke with a start from the dream, and every night he felt as though it were more than a fantastical image produced by his mind; it felt like a distant memory, something which he had long ago slipped into the deepest recesses of his consciousness, to sit in relative dormancy forever. But now it was coming back to him...and with each passing night, the bird's piercing eyes felt more real.
Miaka sat up with a start, images of flames and feathers still dancing in her mind, her heartbeat swift. The repeated dreams of the revival of Suzaku woke her night after night, each time bringing mixed feelings of apprehension, as though these were a message from the god that danger was not far behind.
"Miaka?" Came the groggy voice of Taka, the dark-haired man slowly sitting up, the folds of the covers cascading down from his chest to settle in a heap. "What's wrong?"
Miaka looked over at Taka and sighed softly. Her lack of answer was nearly as effective as actually speaking would have been, for Taka understood fairly well, wrapping his strong arms around Miaka's shoulders.
"The dream again?" He asked, quietly, getting a nod in reply, although the nod was nearly unnecessary. After five consecutive nights, a sixth incidence of the recurring dream came as no real surprise.
"What does it mean?" Miaka whispered softly, echoing the question she had asked herself at least fifty times since the first dream. Could it be, she wondered, that this was truly just a random dream? Perhaps her own anxiousness brought on by the first dream had caused its recurrence? She shook her head slowly. There was more to this...and there was nothing she could do but wait until it was revealed.
The sun rose slowly, like a fickle lover returning to her seat in the sky, to kiss beloved earth with her rays once more, brushing away the chill of the spring evening.. The boy leaned against the outside wall of the apartment, starting down at the cityscape once more from his high balcony. It was a quiet morning, over all, and he did not have to be anywhere until mid-afternoon. As such, he suffered from a combination of boredom and the serenity of the morning.
A sound from behind him drew his attention, causing him to turn quickly. A tall man stood there, near the doorway back into the apartment, his cornflower blue hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a baggy white shirt and black pants, as well as a dark blue sash with a strange pattern, and an old-style Chinese hat hung on his back, held there by a string around his neck. There was a strange familiarity about him...
"Chiriko," The man began, breaking the boy's train of thought.
"How do you know my name?" The boy asked, surprised.
"I saw you at your last chess tournament. You're a very skilled player, no da."
Chiriko was a bit taken aback by this. He had never thought that, being a chess player, he would find himself being stalked. One might understand, perhaps even expect such behavior if he were some manner of pop star or something, but young chess players simply were not known for having fanatical followings.
"I'm not here to cause trouble, no da." The man said, as though reading Chiriko's mind, (although it was more likely the uncertain look on the boy's face.)
"Then why are you here?" Chiriko asked, after a few more moments of strained silence. The man just smiled a bit, as though talking with a particularly uninformed child.
"Because I knew you in a past life."
"Miaka, are you even listening?"
Miaka looked up from her own thoughts, gazing up at her husband before flashing a rather innocent smile, accompanied by a shake of her head.
"I'm sorry. I was just thinking. what did you say?" She asked, slipping her arm into the crook of Taka's arm as the two walked down a fairly busy street, fellow pedestrians passing by in a steady stream.
"I said that there's a circus coming to town." Taka repeated. "We should bring Hikari. I think she'd like that."
Miaka smiled and nodded, brushing some hair away from her eyes, absent mindedly taking note of a certain woman who passed by to her left. The woman was a bit taller than her, slender, and had long silver hair that cascaded half-way down her back, decorated with a number of clips and such. Her wardrobe was the thing which Miaka found to be particularly peculiar, though. She wore a long white robe with red trim, and a few odd accessories here and there. In her hands, she carried a scroll, which looked ancient and rather fragile.
After perhaps a second of starting, the woman's gaze lifted and she made eye contact with Miaka. Miaka turned her eyes quickly downward, not wanting to seem rude by staring, but much to her surprise, the woman approached them, quickly..
"Miaka, Tamahome," The woman called, once within a few yards of the two. Taka stopped in surprise, turning as he heard his past-life name.
"Do we know you?" Taka asked, moving closer to Miaka in a protective fashion. The woman simply smiled faintly.
"I am not surprised you do not recognize me." She reached into the loose, baggy sleeve of her robe and produced a glass ball. "You must gather your warriors once more, priestess of Suzaku."