A/N: Hello there! I'm back once again (and immensely sorry for the up-
date wait once again...but college is a bitch sometimes, you know ^_^)
Anyways, this is an oddly clean chapter (for me at least). No cussing or
graphic loving or anything like that. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 59
The Way It Must Be
Our night is long and dark and filled with warmth. We make love tenderly and carefully since my husband's injuries hinder him somewhat, but our slow, gentle pace makes it all the more pleasurable. We lose ourselves in each other again and again, drifting off to sleep for a few hours only to reawaken with the sound of the other's sigh or the touch of their bare skin, and we make love again. With all thoughts of the mournful day to come banished from our minds, we allow ourselves to become bewitched with each other and find ourselves pretending that nothing else exists in this world but us. We forget the war. We forget the priestess and the warriors that are lost and those that are still alive. We forget the funeral that we will attend tomorrow. We forget even though pieces of our hearts know that it is selfish to do so.
I lie motionless in Tasuki's arms after we have arrived to the point of exhaustion, and I listen contentedly as he drifts into a thick sleep, his eyelids weighed down, his breathing deep, his body completely still beside me. I press my hand over his heart for a moment and feel the soft thump against my palm. Yes, this is him. He is here. He has left me and returned to me so many times that checking the beat of his heart has become the only way I can be sure he is really here.
I do not notice that hours have gone by, for I must have fallen asleep at some point after watching my husband fall asleep. The sun wakes me up, its bright golden sheen shining in front of my eyelids, coaxing them open. The sky outside my window is thick with fog, tinted a lovely shade of golden from the rising sun. I sigh deeply and shift to see if Tasuki is awake yet. He isn't. His bound chest still rises and falls at an even pace and the sound of his breath is still deep, accented softly every now and then by a snore, making me smile. I slip away from him, very careful not to disturb him, and sit up in my canopied bed to think for a moment about the night before. So many things said. So many things revealed.
I grin mischievously. And so much lovemaking as well – far more than I ever thought a man with bruised ribs and an arrow wound could do. I cast a glance over my naked shoulder to see my husband lying flat on his back, contend in the obliviousness of sleep, his hand unconsciously caressing the place beside him where I once rested.
What will happen now? His Highness's funeral is today, of course. And I dread it like I would dread my own funeral. I do not know if I can endure seeing his body, and I have no idea in hell how the Lady Empress can endure it. Gods, how I long to see her, talk with her, hold her, comfort her. She is not just my empress any longer – she is my friend. And I want her to know how I grieve for her; I want her to know that I sympathize deeply with her even though it is she who has lost her husband and not me. It could have been me, though. It very well could have been me.
But it wasn't. My eyes gaze at my beloved again, studying the contours of his naked body resting peacefully on my bed. Will my life truly begin now that he is here again and his duty to his priestess and his county has been fulfilled? Will we leave for the mountain soon? Will the other women be alright if they are left here in the harem? Will we be able to visit each other? And what about Konan? Now that our beloved emperor is dead and our heir still has yet to be born, what will become of us?
I have to force myself to stop thinking. No more questions that cannot be answered. No more. I sigh heavily and rise from my bed to dress. I select a plain white under robe, a cream-colored over robe, and a white girdle and sash to wear to pay my last respects to my dear friend Hotohori, the great emperor of Konan. I brush my hair out and do nothing else to it; it would be inappropriate to dress or decorate my hair extravagantly for a funeral. But because white is the color of mourning, I gather the top portion of my dark brown hair, mold it into a modest chignon, and slip a simple pearl hair pin into its base to accentuate my all-white apparel.
Just when I decide it's time to wake Tasuki, I hear a soft knock at my door and hurry to answer it. One of the chamber maids stands on my threshold, Tasuki's freshly cleaned clothes folded neatly in her arms. I thank her quietly, not wanting to wake my still-sleeping husband, and close the door as she turns to leave. But the sun has roused him for me, and by the time I've place his clothes at the foot of the bed, he is stirring and yawning happily.
"Good morning," he replies, his voice still thick and slurred from sleep. He smiles and sits up slowly, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed.
"Good morning, my darling," I answer happily, padding over to him on my bare feet and taking his face in my hands. I place a soft kiss of his cheek, then run my fingers through his unruly hair. "Your clean clothes are here."
He nods and makes a movement as if to stand. Still wary of his injuries, he braces himself as if the simple action of standing will send a lightning bolt of pain through his body. But when his feet are firmly planted on the ground, he gives me a surprised look and raises his eyebrows.
"What is it?" I inquire, worry in my voice.
He doesn't answer, only stretches his arms high above his head. He then rotates his injured arm and bends at the waist, then to the side.
"What's wrong?" I ask again, the tone of my voice rising.
"Huh!" he remarks happily, "There ain't a damn thing wrong, Tan! It feels like that goddamn horse never even brushed against me much less kicked the hell outta me!" He grins and begins to unwind the bandages that bind his chest and shoulder. He shrugs his arm out of the sling, too. The bruises are still quite evident on his chest and side, but the color of them is much less severe. They truly seem to have half-healed over night. "Would ya look at that!" he comments, prodding gently at his injuries, testing them for pain. He pokes too hard and grimaces slightly, making him pull his hand away. "Maybe we should put some more of that herb stuff on and wrap me up for one more day," he says to me, "Just to be sure."
I smile in response and hurry to fetch the balm and the left-over bandages from the night before.
**************************************************************************** ************************
We walk hand in hand now through the seraglio, slowing making our way toward His Highness's chambers where we will pay our last respects to him. Still a bit too sore to pull his shirt over his head without groaning in pain, Tasuki opted to simply drape his coat over his naked shoulders. His injured arm rests comfortably in the sling while the other is pressed close to mine, our fingers entwined.
We are silent for a long time, but then my husband speaks up, his voice momentarily slipping back into its normal cheerful tones that instantly lift my spirits. "I have something to tell you," he says, grinning down at me as we stroll slowly into another of the palace's courtyards. Interested, I lift my eyebrows in response. "I meant to tell you sometime last night, but we were a little too busy." We both smile, knowing what he is referring to, and he continues. "I think that Koji's taken a liking to your friend Koi," he replies, "I think he's taken a big liking."
Surprised, I turn to look at him and narrow my eyes. "A liking?" I repeat, "As in a friendly liking, or –"
"Yep," he interrupts, "The other kind of liking. And believe me, Tan, I can tell."
Although I'm somewhat shocked by this sudden revelation, it would be a lie to say I'm not somewhat pleased as well. "How can you tell?"
"He couldn't stop talking about her! The moment the two of you left that day to go back to the harem, he just couldn't shut up." Tasuki grins at the memory. "How someone can get all lovesick that soon is beyond me!"
"You mean to tell me that Koji has begun to fall in love with Koi? They hardly know each other! They met once, and even then they barely spoke more than a few sentences," I say.
"Sounds like another couple, doesn't it, Tansho?" Tasuki quickly retorts, turning his head to peer down at me as if reprimanding me. Only when I see the soft but serious look in his eyes do I realize that he's speaking of us. "We had one real conversation before we slept together, if my memory is correct. And it didn't take us long after to realize we were in love."
I don't think I can ever recall hearing his voice sound so serious. I gaze at him for a long moment, wondering why he speaks of this so reverently. Yes, I remember. For a while, I thought I was a goddamn fool for what I was daring to do, but then I realized that it was because I was experiencing real love for the first time since I lost my mother and the rest of my family. I could not procrastinate acting on that love; I could not afford it. I had to seize it and make it mine before it vanished – just like my happy childhood did. But what of Koji and Koi? Hearing from Tasuki that his friend has begun to fall in love with my friend is both overwhelmingly joyful, and yet strangely unbelievable. Does Koi feel the same as Koji does? If so, why did she never tell me? Why would she keep it a secret?
"Let's give them some time," Tasuki continues, "Koji's coming in about a week to ride back with us to the mountain. He says that it'll be safer for you if there's two guys riding with you. But I think he wants to come just to see Koi again. You know, before we set off for the mountain, they might realize they were meant for each other and Koi could be coming back with us."
When I hear this, my heart leaps inside my rib cage at the thought of my dearest friend joining me in my new home. "You think?" I answer hopefully.
"Well, if the feeling's mutual on Koi's part, then sure! Why not?"
My husband smiles happily down at me, and we walk on as if simply strolling together on a beautiful winter morning, not on our ways to a funeral. I smile in return, and happiness suddenly blossoms inside of me on this sorrowful day. I feel guilty and thankful at the same time that I am able to feel joy on a day of mourning, but I don't allow my mind to dwell on this. At this point in time, I cannot allow it.
We reach the emperor's chambers by the time the golden sky has cleared of fog and the sun is beaming down warmly upon our bodies. But the interior of His Highness's chambers has the chill of death and sadness and mourning clinging to the air, hanging heavily above our heads and above the covered body of Hotohori. Tasuki grips my hand tighter as we walk slowly toward the bed where his emperor and fellow warrior lies, his body still, his eyes closed as if sleeping silently. Chichiri stands motionless at the emperor's left; Lady Hoki stands at his right, her lovely face shadowed by her grief, but her stature still as regal and elegant as always. One of His Highness's many faithful advisors welcomes us solemnly, motioning with his hand for Tasuki to stand next to Chichiri, his companion warrior. I settle at my husband's side, my fingers clinging to his.
Hotohori has not lost his masculine beauty. He lies in his bed, his crimson coverlets pulled up close to his neck, his head supported by plush pillows, his face serene as if he had died there and not in the middle of a battlefield. For a long moment all of us who are present are silent. I can tell that we are all studying our beloved emperor, trying to burn his image into our minds before his body is entombed. We all know that in a few more hours His Highness will forever be sealed in his crypt, his body forever kept safe. The thought goes beyond me. I cannot image my emperor and my friend locked into a tomb, never to emerge again. I try, but I cannot. So I simply stand still and listen as His Highness's head advisor speaks reverently of him, his aged, wise voice ringing loud with praise and sorrow. He speaks of his sullen, empty childhood and how the coming of the Priestess seemed to bring him to life again, and I find myself thinking of Lady Tsuya, wondering if this old man knew of the joy she brought into his beloved emperor's life.
Lady Hoki stares blankly, her vivid purple eyes so alive and yet so dead. Her hands are crossed demurely over her rounded belly, and I see her press her delicate fingers down into her skin, feeling for the kicking of her child. Smiles flicker across her face every now and then, and I smile because I know why she's smiling. Her eyes rise, and they meet mine in a gentle, smooth motion. She is mourning deeply and harshly. Her eyes call out for help, for comfort; and although I know I can give her this, I also know that it could never be enough. I sense something wrong in her. She will mourn for a long time -- for far too long -- and only something much like a miracle will be able to bring her out of it.
I am hurled from my thoughts by a startling sound. My breath leaves me and I grip my husband's hand as a voice arises from the room, comes down upon us from the sky, crashes into us from all sides. It calls the names of Chichiri and my husband over and over, pleading with them to hear it and respond to it. It is loud but strangely soft as well. It is no longer a startling shout; it had softened to a drifting wind, swirling around us like fog. All of us that are gathered around His Highness's bed lift our eyes to the ceiling of the bed-chamber, searching for the source of the voice. It has no body. It is coming from the air.
"Tasuki! Chichiri! Can you hear me?! My name is Keisuke. I'm Miaka's brother!"
My eyes dart to my husband's, where they linger in shock for several long moments. I watch as his eyes leave mine to connect with Chichiri's, both of their faces showing their amazement and confusion. I see them both fighting to respond, and finally Tasuki manages to lift his face to the ceiling and answer the voice calling to us.
"Keisuke, is Miaka there with you? Is she OK?" he calls out, his voice burdened with confusion and disbelief. His eyes roam across the ceiling as if the young man he's speaking to could be found there somewhere.
"No," the voice replies desperately. "Please save my sister. Nakago's come to our world. He has Miaka and Yui cornered, and I think he might kill them!"
"Nakago's there?" Chichiri cries, obviously both surprised and concerned.
"Yes. Please – you're the only ones who can help her! Find her backpack – that big bag that she brought with her from her world. Concentrate hard on coming into this world. Please hurry!"
And then it is silent. We are all left standing in shock, our eyes unfocused, our hearts beating wildly, our minds racing. Out of the corner of my eye I see Chichiri turn to face Tasuki, his masked face solemn and flustered, but rigid. Tasuki glances at the floor, his fingers raking back through his fiery hair. I hear him sigh and return his companion's look, his eyes knowing. Chichiri nods his head slowly, and Tasuki answers with another nod. They turn to face Empress Hoki, who only smiles weakly and bows low to the ground, far lower than she should, giving them permission to leave, thanking them for respecting her husband with their presence, and wishing them luck for what they are about to do all in this graceful, simple motion. When she has righter herself, Chichiri and Tasuki bow in unison and take their leave.
My husband's hand suddenly slips into mine, and I find myself staring into his eyes. I am confused and astounded, but when he looks down and into me I clench his hand tighter and silently follow him out of the emperor's bedchambers and into the sun. We walk hand-in-hand behind Chichiri, following him toward the room that the Priestess stayed in during her last visit to the palace. Our pace is fast and even-paced, and although we hurry just as Miaka's brother asked us to, we do not rush. For several minutes I cannot understand why there is no words between my husband and I. Shouldn't there be? Shouldn't we be saying goodbye again? I glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, staring at me, trying to keep me with him. He doesn't want to let go of me. His desire to protect his Priestess and his desire to be with his wife has finally begun to battle inside his heart. I can feel it in the heat of his hand. There is rage and guilt and concern and passion beneath his skin.
I do not realize that we are standing outside the door of the Priestess's old room until we have stopped walking. Chichiri turns around and smiles faintly at Tasuki and I, and I know that he is telling us to speak to each other for as long as we possibly can. He is telling us that we must part again, but that it's alright that neither of us want to. He opens the door to the bedroom and goes inside, closing the door behind him.
"Tansho."
He has always said my name in a way that makes me love him deeper and fiercer each time he speaks it. And it is times like this that I hate him for that.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, his warm hands wrapping around mine.
I lift my eyes and stare at him, partially moved, partially angry. "For what?" I ask bluntly.
"For this. When I came back after the war, I never meant to leave again. Never. And now I am, and I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't be sorry, Tasuki," I answer, my voice suddenly choked with the beginning of tears. I scream at myself inside my head not to cry. No more crying. No more. I have cried enough, and I will not do it any more. "You shouldn't be sorry for doing what is needed to save your priestess." I look hard into his eyes and I force him to hear my words and all that they have to say. "You were her friend before you were my lover. You were her warrior before you were my husband. You are bound to me by your love and your heart, but you are bound to her by Fate. You were born to serve her. If you must leave me to go to her, then so be it – because that is the way it must be. That is the way it was meant to be." I pull him into me, embracing him so passionately that I fear I may not survive letting him go. I press him to me so that I can feel his heart beating together with mine. If I lose him, then he is lost. I cannot interfere where I do not belong. I can only hope and pray, and if those fail me, then I can remember. I have my memories. My husband may never come back, but my memories of him can never leave.
"Do not be sorry," I whisper into his ear, "Be grateful. You were chosen long ago to serve a great woman."
"And I was chosen to love a great woman as well," he answers, his voice caressing my ear and bringing me dangerously close to tears.
"Tasuki," Chichiri replies softly, "I found it." We break apart slowly to turn and look at the brown bag Chichiri grasps in his hand, not really knowing what to do next. Tasuki entwines his fingers with mine, and we follow Chichiri blindly into the room, uncertain of what will happen, but sure of what must be done.
A/N: Hey there again! It's been forever since I answered some reviews, so I thought I'd take the time to do that.
Nuriko's Singer: No, I don't think it's obsessive that you read my entire fic over the course of two days – it's pretty damn impressive if you sk me! ^_^ Thanks so much for all the nice compliments, they really made my day (especially the one about my lemons – it's always good to know that my randy imagination is put to good use ^_^) As for a little baby Tasuki or Tansho – you'll have to wait and see!
Touki Yume: Thanks for your compliment of "the confession". That was such a difficult scene to write! It took me months to decide where to place it and what should be said between Tasuki and Tansho (originally, it was set while they were swimming together in the ocean). And yes, I love Asako's character as well. In the beginning, I tried my best to give all four of the woman equal roles in the story and in Tansho's life, but I knew early on that Asako was going to be different.
Mystic Chibi: Thanks so much for the sweet compliments!!!
Methodic madness: Thanks for your compliments on "the confession" scene as well, an also for your thoughts on Tansho's decision to not look for her family (yet another extremely difficult part of the plot to write). Oh, and also for what you said about her characterization in relation to prostitute stereotypes (very interesting...) And thanks for understanding my long updates. ^_^ You're a Georgian, too, huh? How cool!!! No, I wouldn't mind at all telling your where I'm from – I'm from Athens!
Chibi-face: Thanks a bunch for the compliments!! And, yeah, sorry for the long updates.
Railynn: Yet another thanks!!! ^_^
Ame: Just keep reading, hon! All your question will be answered in the later chapters!!
Thanks again to everyone!! You keep me motivated and inspired, and I couldn't keep writing this story without your support!! Love you all!
Aama
Chapter 59
The Way It Must Be
Our night is long and dark and filled with warmth. We make love tenderly and carefully since my husband's injuries hinder him somewhat, but our slow, gentle pace makes it all the more pleasurable. We lose ourselves in each other again and again, drifting off to sleep for a few hours only to reawaken with the sound of the other's sigh or the touch of their bare skin, and we make love again. With all thoughts of the mournful day to come banished from our minds, we allow ourselves to become bewitched with each other and find ourselves pretending that nothing else exists in this world but us. We forget the war. We forget the priestess and the warriors that are lost and those that are still alive. We forget the funeral that we will attend tomorrow. We forget even though pieces of our hearts know that it is selfish to do so.
I lie motionless in Tasuki's arms after we have arrived to the point of exhaustion, and I listen contentedly as he drifts into a thick sleep, his eyelids weighed down, his breathing deep, his body completely still beside me. I press my hand over his heart for a moment and feel the soft thump against my palm. Yes, this is him. He is here. He has left me and returned to me so many times that checking the beat of his heart has become the only way I can be sure he is really here.
I do not notice that hours have gone by, for I must have fallen asleep at some point after watching my husband fall asleep. The sun wakes me up, its bright golden sheen shining in front of my eyelids, coaxing them open. The sky outside my window is thick with fog, tinted a lovely shade of golden from the rising sun. I sigh deeply and shift to see if Tasuki is awake yet. He isn't. His bound chest still rises and falls at an even pace and the sound of his breath is still deep, accented softly every now and then by a snore, making me smile. I slip away from him, very careful not to disturb him, and sit up in my canopied bed to think for a moment about the night before. So many things said. So many things revealed.
I grin mischievously. And so much lovemaking as well – far more than I ever thought a man with bruised ribs and an arrow wound could do. I cast a glance over my naked shoulder to see my husband lying flat on his back, contend in the obliviousness of sleep, his hand unconsciously caressing the place beside him where I once rested.
What will happen now? His Highness's funeral is today, of course. And I dread it like I would dread my own funeral. I do not know if I can endure seeing his body, and I have no idea in hell how the Lady Empress can endure it. Gods, how I long to see her, talk with her, hold her, comfort her. She is not just my empress any longer – she is my friend. And I want her to know how I grieve for her; I want her to know that I sympathize deeply with her even though it is she who has lost her husband and not me. It could have been me, though. It very well could have been me.
But it wasn't. My eyes gaze at my beloved again, studying the contours of his naked body resting peacefully on my bed. Will my life truly begin now that he is here again and his duty to his priestess and his county has been fulfilled? Will we leave for the mountain soon? Will the other women be alright if they are left here in the harem? Will we be able to visit each other? And what about Konan? Now that our beloved emperor is dead and our heir still has yet to be born, what will become of us?
I have to force myself to stop thinking. No more questions that cannot be answered. No more. I sigh heavily and rise from my bed to dress. I select a plain white under robe, a cream-colored over robe, and a white girdle and sash to wear to pay my last respects to my dear friend Hotohori, the great emperor of Konan. I brush my hair out and do nothing else to it; it would be inappropriate to dress or decorate my hair extravagantly for a funeral. But because white is the color of mourning, I gather the top portion of my dark brown hair, mold it into a modest chignon, and slip a simple pearl hair pin into its base to accentuate my all-white apparel.
Just when I decide it's time to wake Tasuki, I hear a soft knock at my door and hurry to answer it. One of the chamber maids stands on my threshold, Tasuki's freshly cleaned clothes folded neatly in her arms. I thank her quietly, not wanting to wake my still-sleeping husband, and close the door as she turns to leave. But the sun has roused him for me, and by the time I've place his clothes at the foot of the bed, he is stirring and yawning happily.
"Good morning," he replies, his voice still thick and slurred from sleep. He smiles and sits up slowly, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed.
"Good morning, my darling," I answer happily, padding over to him on my bare feet and taking his face in my hands. I place a soft kiss of his cheek, then run my fingers through his unruly hair. "Your clean clothes are here."
He nods and makes a movement as if to stand. Still wary of his injuries, he braces himself as if the simple action of standing will send a lightning bolt of pain through his body. But when his feet are firmly planted on the ground, he gives me a surprised look and raises his eyebrows.
"What is it?" I inquire, worry in my voice.
He doesn't answer, only stretches his arms high above his head. He then rotates his injured arm and bends at the waist, then to the side.
"What's wrong?" I ask again, the tone of my voice rising.
"Huh!" he remarks happily, "There ain't a damn thing wrong, Tan! It feels like that goddamn horse never even brushed against me much less kicked the hell outta me!" He grins and begins to unwind the bandages that bind his chest and shoulder. He shrugs his arm out of the sling, too. The bruises are still quite evident on his chest and side, but the color of them is much less severe. They truly seem to have half-healed over night. "Would ya look at that!" he comments, prodding gently at his injuries, testing them for pain. He pokes too hard and grimaces slightly, making him pull his hand away. "Maybe we should put some more of that herb stuff on and wrap me up for one more day," he says to me, "Just to be sure."
I smile in response and hurry to fetch the balm and the left-over bandages from the night before.
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We walk hand in hand now through the seraglio, slowing making our way toward His Highness's chambers where we will pay our last respects to him. Still a bit too sore to pull his shirt over his head without groaning in pain, Tasuki opted to simply drape his coat over his naked shoulders. His injured arm rests comfortably in the sling while the other is pressed close to mine, our fingers entwined.
We are silent for a long time, but then my husband speaks up, his voice momentarily slipping back into its normal cheerful tones that instantly lift my spirits. "I have something to tell you," he says, grinning down at me as we stroll slowly into another of the palace's courtyards. Interested, I lift my eyebrows in response. "I meant to tell you sometime last night, but we were a little too busy." We both smile, knowing what he is referring to, and he continues. "I think that Koji's taken a liking to your friend Koi," he replies, "I think he's taken a big liking."
Surprised, I turn to look at him and narrow my eyes. "A liking?" I repeat, "As in a friendly liking, or –"
"Yep," he interrupts, "The other kind of liking. And believe me, Tan, I can tell."
Although I'm somewhat shocked by this sudden revelation, it would be a lie to say I'm not somewhat pleased as well. "How can you tell?"
"He couldn't stop talking about her! The moment the two of you left that day to go back to the harem, he just couldn't shut up." Tasuki grins at the memory. "How someone can get all lovesick that soon is beyond me!"
"You mean to tell me that Koji has begun to fall in love with Koi? They hardly know each other! They met once, and even then they barely spoke more than a few sentences," I say.
"Sounds like another couple, doesn't it, Tansho?" Tasuki quickly retorts, turning his head to peer down at me as if reprimanding me. Only when I see the soft but serious look in his eyes do I realize that he's speaking of us. "We had one real conversation before we slept together, if my memory is correct. And it didn't take us long after to realize we were in love."
I don't think I can ever recall hearing his voice sound so serious. I gaze at him for a long moment, wondering why he speaks of this so reverently. Yes, I remember. For a while, I thought I was a goddamn fool for what I was daring to do, but then I realized that it was because I was experiencing real love for the first time since I lost my mother and the rest of my family. I could not procrastinate acting on that love; I could not afford it. I had to seize it and make it mine before it vanished – just like my happy childhood did. But what of Koji and Koi? Hearing from Tasuki that his friend has begun to fall in love with my friend is both overwhelmingly joyful, and yet strangely unbelievable. Does Koi feel the same as Koji does? If so, why did she never tell me? Why would she keep it a secret?
"Let's give them some time," Tasuki continues, "Koji's coming in about a week to ride back with us to the mountain. He says that it'll be safer for you if there's two guys riding with you. But I think he wants to come just to see Koi again. You know, before we set off for the mountain, they might realize they were meant for each other and Koi could be coming back with us."
When I hear this, my heart leaps inside my rib cage at the thought of my dearest friend joining me in my new home. "You think?" I answer hopefully.
"Well, if the feeling's mutual on Koi's part, then sure! Why not?"
My husband smiles happily down at me, and we walk on as if simply strolling together on a beautiful winter morning, not on our ways to a funeral. I smile in return, and happiness suddenly blossoms inside of me on this sorrowful day. I feel guilty and thankful at the same time that I am able to feel joy on a day of mourning, but I don't allow my mind to dwell on this. At this point in time, I cannot allow it.
We reach the emperor's chambers by the time the golden sky has cleared of fog and the sun is beaming down warmly upon our bodies. But the interior of His Highness's chambers has the chill of death and sadness and mourning clinging to the air, hanging heavily above our heads and above the covered body of Hotohori. Tasuki grips my hand tighter as we walk slowly toward the bed where his emperor and fellow warrior lies, his body still, his eyes closed as if sleeping silently. Chichiri stands motionless at the emperor's left; Lady Hoki stands at his right, her lovely face shadowed by her grief, but her stature still as regal and elegant as always. One of His Highness's many faithful advisors welcomes us solemnly, motioning with his hand for Tasuki to stand next to Chichiri, his companion warrior. I settle at my husband's side, my fingers clinging to his.
Hotohori has not lost his masculine beauty. He lies in his bed, his crimson coverlets pulled up close to his neck, his head supported by plush pillows, his face serene as if he had died there and not in the middle of a battlefield. For a long moment all of us who are present are silent. I can tell that we are all studying our beloved emperor, trying to burn his image into our minds before his body is entombed. We all know that in a few more hours His Highness will forever be sealed in his crypt, his body forever kept safe. The thought goes beyond me. I cannot image my emperor and my friend locked into a tomb, never to emerge again. I try, but I cannot. So I simply stand still and listen as His Highness's head advisor speaks reverently of him, his aged, wise voice ringing loud with praise and sorrow. He speaks of his sullen, empty childhood and how the coming of the Priestess seemed to bring him to life again, and I find myself thinking of Lady Tsuya, wondering if this old man knew of the joy she brought into his beloved emperor's life.
Lady Hoki stares blankly, her vivid purple eyes so alive and yet so dead. Her hands are crossed demurely over her rounded belly, and I see her press her delicate fingers down into her skin, feeling for the kicking of her child. Smiles flicker across her face every now and then, and I smile because I know why she's smiling. Her eyes rise, and they meet mine in a gentle, smooth motion. She is mourning deeply and harshly. Her eyes call out for help, for comfort; and although I know I can give her this, I also know that it could never be enough. I sense something wrong in her. She will mourn for a long time -- for far too long -- and only something much like a miracle will be able to bring her out of it.
I am hurled from my thoughts by a startling sound. My breath leaves me and I grip my husband's hand as a voice arises from the room, comes down upon us from the sky, crashes into us from all sides. It calls the names of Chichiri and my husband over and over, pleading with them to hear it and respond to it. It is loud but strangely soft as well. It is no longer a startling shout; it had softened to a drifting wind, swirling around us like fog. All of us that are gathered around His Highness's bed lift our eyes to the ceiling of the bed-chamber, searching for the source of the voice. It has no body. It is coming from the air.
"Tasuki! Chichiri! Can you hear me?! My name is Keisuke. I'm Miaka's brother!"
My eyes dart to my husband's, where they linger in shock for several long moments. I watch as his eyes leave mine to connect with Chichiri's, both of their faces showing their amazement and confusion. I see them both fighting to respond, and finally Tasuki manages to lift his face to the ceiling and answer the voice calling to us.
"Keisuke, is Miaka there with you? Is she OK?" he calls out, his voice burdened with confusion and disbelief. His eyes roam across the ceiling as if the young man he's speaking to could be found there somewhere.
"No," the voice replies desperately. "Please save my sister. Nakago's come to our world. He has Miaka and Yui cornered, and I think he might kill them!"
"Nakago's there?" Chichiri cries, obviously both surprised and concerned.
"Yes. Please – you're the only ones who can help her! Find her backpack – that big bag that she brought with her from her world. Concentrate hard on coming into this world. Please hurry!"
And then it is silent. We are all left standing in shock, our eyes unfocused, our hearts beating wildly, our minds racing. Out of the corner of my eye I see Chichiri turn to face Tasuki, his masked face solemn and flustered, but rigid. Tasuki glances at the floor, his fingers raking back through his fiery hair. I hear him sigh and return his companion's look, his eyes knowing. Chichiri nods his head slowly, and Tasuki answers with another nod. They turn to face Empress Hoki, who only smiles weakly and bows low to the ground, far lower than she should, giving them permission to leave, thanking them for respecting her husband with their presence, and wishing them luck for what they are about to do all in this graceful, simple motion. When she has righter herself, Chichiri and Tasuki bow in unison and take their leave.
My husband's hand suddenly slips into mine, and I find myself staring into his eyes. I am confused and astounded, but when he looks down and into me I clench his hand tighter and silently follow him out of the emperor's bedchambers and into the sun. We walk hand-in-hand behind Chichiri, following him toward the room that the Priestess stayed in during her last visit to the palace. Our pace is fast and even-paced, and although we hurry just as Miaka's brother asked us to, we do not rush. For several minutes I cannot understand why there is no words between my husband and I. Shouldn't there be? Shouldn't we be saying goodbye again? I glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, staring at me, trying to keep me with him. He doesn't want to let go of me. His desire to protect his Priestess and his desire to be with his wife has finally begun to battle inside his heart. I can feel it in the heat of his hand. There is rage and guilt and concern and passion beneath his skin.
I do not realize that we are standing outside the door of the Priestess's old room until we have stopped walking. Chichiri turns around and smiles faintly at Tasuki and I, and I know that he is telling us to speak to each other for as long as we possibly can. He is telling us that we must part again, but that it's alright that neither of us want to. He opens the door to the bedroom and goes inside, closing the door behind him.
"Tansho."
He has always said my name in a way that makes me love him deeper and fiercer each time he speaks it. And it is times like this that I hate him for that.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, his warm hands wrapping around mine.
I lift my eyes and stare at him, partially moved, partially angry. "For what?" I ask bluntly.
"For this. When I came back after the war, I never meant to leave again. Never. And now I am, and I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't be sorry, Tasuki," I answer, my voice suddenly choked with the beginning of tears. I scream at myself inside my head not to cry. No more crying. No more. I have cried enough, and I will not do it any more. "You shouldn't be sorry for doing what is needed to save your priestess." I look hard into his eyes and I force him to hear my words and all that they have to say. "You were her friend before you were my lover. You were her warrior before you were my husband. You are bound to me by your love and your heart, but you are bound to her by Fate. You were born to serve her. If you must leave me to go to her, then so be it – because that is the way it must be. That is the way it was meant to be." I pull him into me, embracing him so passionately that I fear I may not survive letting him go. I press him to me so that I can feel his heart beating together with mine. If I lose him, then he is lost. I cannot interfere where I do not belong. I can only hope and pray, and if those fail me, then I can remember. I have my memories. My husband may never come back, but my memories of him can never leave.
"Do not be sorry," I whisper into his ear, "Be grateful. You were chosen long ago to serve a great woman."
"And I was chosen to love a great woman as well," he answers, his voice caressing my ear and bringing me dangerously close to tears.
"Tasuki," Chichiri replies softly, "I found it." We break apart slowly to turn and look at the brown bag Chichiri grasps in his hand, not really knowing what to do next. Tasuki entwines his fingers with mine, and we follow Chichiri blindly into the room, uncertain of what will happen, but sure of what must be done.
A/N: Hey there again! It's been forever since I answered some reviews, so I thought I'd take the time to do that.
Nuriko's Singer: No, I don't think it's obsessive that you read my entire fic over the course of two days – it's pretty damn impressive if you sk me! ^_^ Thanks so much for all the nice compliments, they really made my day (especially the one about my lemons – it's always good to know that my randy imagination is put to good use ^_^) As for a little baby Tasuki or Tansho – you'll have to wait and see!
Touki Yume: Thanks for your compliment of "the confession". That was such a difficult scene to write! It took me months to decide where to place it and what should be said between Tasuki and Tansho (originally, it was set while they were swimming together in the ocean). And yes, I love Asako's character as well. In the beginning, I tried my best to give all four of the woman equal roles in the story and in Tansho's life, but I knew early on that Asako was going to be different.
Mystic Chibi: Thanks so much for the sweet compliments!!!
Methodic madness: Thanks for your compliments on "the confession" scene as well, an also for your thoughts on Tansho's decision to not look for her family (yet another extremely difficult part of the plot to write). Oh, and also for what you said about her characterization in relation to prostitute stereotypes (very interesting...) And thanks for understanding my long updates. ^_^ You're a Georgian, too, huh? How cool!!! No, I wouldn't mind at all telling your where I'm from – I'm from Athens!
Chibi-face: Thanks a bunch for the compliments!! And, yeah, sorry for the long updates.
Railynn: Yet another thanks!!! ^_^
Ame: Just keep reading, hon! All your question will be answered in the later chapters!!
Thanks again to everyone!! You keep me motivated and inspired, and I couldn't keep writing this story without your support!! Love you all!
Aama