Chapter 3:

It was stormy the night Chiaki arrived in Konan. The rain was freezing, the lightening invoked shadows riddled with delusional nightmares. She stumbled, half-delirious and exhausted, through the border an hour after sunset. She'd been through her share of fights through that weeklong journey, with bandits and stranger creatures than she'd ever even read about and she was more than ready just to give up. Losing her footing in the slick mud, she went sprawling into the gooey slop. She lay there, with her face in the mud, trembling from exhaustion and murmuring unintelligible conversation to herself. She just wanted to lie there and waste away. A grand crash of thunder jolted her upright and with a groan, she dragged herself to her feet and blearily opened her map with one hand, wiping the mud from her face with the other. Under the pelting of the rain, the inks had run together, creating one monstrous blob. Or her eyes weren't focusing again, she wasn't sure. Folding the map up again and stuffing it into her shredded shirt, she continued to slowly limp through the foreign countryside.

Well into the night, as the storm continued to rage, she made her way into a large city or small village perhaps, she couldn't tell. Her pace quickened at the thought of somewhere warm to sleep, and was very disappointed when she reached a gate. She pulled on the bars desperately, but they wouldn't move.

A soldier stepped into view. "Halt!... Priestess! You've returned!"

Chiaki looked at him and meant to shake her head and correct the man, but instead collapsed, unconscious, to the ground at his feet.

* * *

"She's not the Priestess?"

"No."

"Who is she then? She couldn't be Kutou's priestess, could she?"

"It is not Yui... I'll see to her health. When she revives, perhaps she can tell us who she is. Maybe she knows where the Priestess of Suzaku disappeared to."

* * *

Faint sunlight filtered into Chiaki's closed eyes, the first sign to her partly conscious brain that she was awake. She opened her eyes slowly, wincing as the light hit them. Her gaze drifted around, discovering that she was in a room, tucked firmly into bed, and wearing a very comfortable silk robe. Beside her sat a man with stiff black hair, fast asleep with his chin on his chest and a small white kitten slumbering on his lap. 'Where am I?' she wondered. Looking back at the man, she screamed hoarsely and sat up; only to fall back against the pillows as her vision made the room reel. The man startled awake and tumbled off his chair with a startled yelp. The kitten darted off his lap and cowered beneath a nearby stand.

Chiaki leaned over the edge of her bed, watching him until he rose to his feet, feeling a bit sorry for him. "Who are you? Where am I? Why are you in here? If you did anything to me, you'll-"

The man held up his hands to silence her, crouching to scoop up the animal. Its tail was puffed like a brush. "One at a time, please. For your sake… and mine." Standing again, he deposited the kitten onto her bed.

She sighed, a bit exasperated with this order, and finally nodded briefly in consent. "Who are you?"

"Mitsukake. The cat is Tama-neko. And you are?"

"Chiaki." She moved to sit up, but Mitsukake quickly advised against it. "Where am I?" she asked, sinking back against the pillow. Her hand absently found Tama-neko's furry head and she scratched the kitten's ears.

The man handed her a cup and instructed her to drink from it. "This is Konan. You're in the palace of Emperor Hotohori."

She choked on the mouthful of water she had just taken. "Palace? Emperor?"

Mitsukake took the cup away from her and nodded. "Surprised, are you?"

"To say the least, yes... Why are you in here? And... you don't think I'm this... Priestess of Suzaku, do you?"

"No, I know you aren't the Priestess. I'm here because I'm a healer and I tended somewhat to your wounds. I was watching over you to be sure you really were well... You passed out before the palace gates, do you remember?"

She squinted thoughtfully, looking off towards the corner. "A little," she replied after a long pause.

"The guard brought you to me and I tended for you. You were quite a mess."

"I'll bet..." Looking down at the robe she was enveloped in, she asked suspiciously, "Did you put me in this?" Before the healer could answer, she grabbed a parasol from the vase beside her bed and beat him across the head with it. "You pervert!"

"No, no, no!" he cried, shielding his head from another blow. "I did no such thing. I had one of Hotohori-sama's aides change your clothes."

"Oh..." She dropped the parasol to the floor, sheepish. "Um... sorry for, uh, hitting you..." She cleared her throat, embarrassed.

Rubbing the crown of his head, he assured her that her reaction was all right. There was a brief knock on the door and a young woman entered. "Excuse me, sir, but the Emperor and the rest of the Suzaku Seishi wish for you and the Priestess to join them in his meeting room." She bobbed a quick bow and left the room.

Chiaki gave Mitsukake a pained look. "I thought you knew I wasn't the Priestess."

"I do. Others... Rumor spreads. Most haven't seen her often enough to know exactly how she looks. You arrive dressed the same, and people assume." He shrugged and then stood and motioned for her to follow the suit.

She climbed out of bed and wobbled after him. "That woman said the rest of the Suzaku Seishi. What did she mean, and what exactly is the Suzaku Seishi?"

He took hold of her arm to keep her steady and guided her down the hall, explaining, as he went, his role as one of the seven warriors of Suzaku, and the roles of the others. "You don't happen to know why our young Priestess disappeared, do you?" he asked, as they walked into the meeting room.

"Who?"

"Miaka!" someone yelled suddenly in ecstatic joy.

Chiaki only had time to wonder if Miaka! was used in the same context as Eureka! before she found herself pinned against a wall and smothered in kisses. Balling up her fist, she gave the young man before her a swift sharp punch in the lower jaw, yelling, "Get off me, you Neanderthal!"

"Tamahome, I don't think that's Miaka," a woman called, with an absolutely delighted expression on her face. "She certainly defended herself better against your so-called 'charm'."

The name the woman used, Tamahome, rang familiar to her, but she didn't bother contemplating it. "I don't know who you think you are, or what you think I am, but-" she ranted, thrusting her finger in the man's chest.

"Well, it's obvious you aren't Miaka. Who are you?" interrupted a man clothed in so many robes; Chiaki assumed he was feeling the early morning chill.

"I... am Chiaki. And before you say anything else, I'm not a Priestess of anything; I don't know who or where Yui-sama is, and if you're going to kill me, do it now. Save any torture toys for someone who really needs it."

The many-robed man approached and took her hand. "As Mitsukake may have told you, I am the Emperor of Konan. Please, call me Hotohori." He smiled at her, a truly pleasant sight, as the smile reached even his gentle brown eyes. Belatedly, she remembered to bow. "It sounds as though you've been through a lot. Sit down and tell us. Maybe we can figure out why you're here."

She nodded, letting this charming emperor lead her to a seat. She swallowed hard when fourteen eyes turned on her; she'd never been around so many people who were interested in what she had to say before, but she found some comfort, seeing that one pair belonged to a young boy, no more than twelve- 'He is a warrior? Doesn't his mother worry?'- and that she wasn't the only female in the group. The woman who scolded Tamahome was busy picking on him with a fiery haired young man. Smiling a little, she haltingly began to tell her story.

"So that's who those scars came from, no da? Suboshi?" another man asked.

She was a bit surprised when he mentioned this for she thought he was blind by the way he squinted. She looked in one of the mirrors on a wall nearby and noticed that a tender pink laceration ripped neatly across her cheek. Nodding slowly, she touched it carefully and then glanced at him inquisitively. Maybe he wasn't blind after all.

"Hmm..." Hotohori tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. "Miaka and Yui disappear and you show up in Kutou, only to be guided here." He looked at the supposed blind man beside him. "What do you think, Chichiri?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, no da."

Looking at each warrior of Suzaku carefully, she then asked, "Why does everyone keep calling me Priestess, if this Miaka girl is supposed to be it? Do she and I look similar or something?"

The woman grinned. "I wouldn't think so, but you really should ask Tamahome that. He's the one who mistook you for his one true love."

"It was an accident!" Tamahome yelled. "Her hair color is the same, and she's about the same height- it could've happened to anyone... Oh shut the hell up, Nuriko!" he snapped as the woman laughed at him.

Suddenly, recognition of Tamahome's name clicked in the younger girl's head. "I've heard of you!" she exclaimed, waving her hand towards him. "Two girls... they were talking about you. They must be Miaka and Yui...?" Tamahome went starry-eyed at the mention of a possible sighting of the girl. Nuriko shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Who is Miaka, anyway?"

"Miaka is the Priestess of Suzaku. A gluttonous pig of a priestess, but that's Miaka for you," Nuriko replied with an off-handed shrug.

"And pretty stupid on the side," added the red haired man who had been relatively silent until that point, sending mischievously evil glances in Tamahome's direction as the other young man protested vehemently.

Miaka, Tamahome, Nuriko, Chichiri; the names swam cluttered through her head. Chiaki looked up at Mitsukake, who stood by her shoulder. "Can you tell me who everyone is?" she asked quietly, "Because all of this is getting really confusing."

The healer nodded. "He's Chiriko," he pointed to the young boy, who smiled brightly at the mention of his name, "I believe you now know Tamahome on a more intimate level," he teased gently. Tamahome grumbled under his breath. "And the Emperor, of course. Chichiri-" the man Chiaki wrongly assumed to be blind- "Tasuki-" the red haired man, "and he is-"

"Nuriko, the man lover," Tasuki interrupted gleefully. Nuriko responded with a swift pound on the redhead's skull and he yelped in pain.

Chiaki's eyebrows hiked up as she stared at Nuriko in disbelief. "You're...you're male?"

"Well, do you have to act so surprised?" he demanded, planting slim hands on his hips.

She held a hand to her head. "Oh my... I think I'm going to faint again." Mitsukake put a strong hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

Chichiri slapped his palms onto the table with a whack that demanded silence. "Once Chiaki is ready to travel, we should visit Taitsukun, no da. She'll know what's going on, and how we can get Miaka back and Chiaki home, no da."

"That old bag?" Tamahome groaned, dropping his head back. "She gives me nightmares!"

"You wouldn't be here without that old bag, no da," Chichiri pointed out. In response, Tamahome sulked.

Hotohori nodded in consent and looked at the girl. "Whenever you're ready. It's all up to you."

"Wait, wait... what's going on? What's all up to me?"

"We're going to see Taitsukun. She resides in Mt. Takioku. It's possible that she knows why you are here now, instead of Miaka. Whenever you feel your strength has returned, we'll leave."

"Oh..." So much information, so many new things... A dull stab somewhere in her head began to throb painfully. She pressed a hand to her forehead, wincing.

"I think it's time for Chiaki to rest," Mitsukake intervened, to her relief. She threw him a grateful glance.

The emperor stood, nodding. "Yes, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

She smiled briefly, standing with the help of the healer and, after bobbing her head respectfully to Hotohori, she and Mitsukake left the room. Chichiri watched them depart, with his face set with concern. There was something about that girl...

* * *

"Knock, knock!" Chiaki looked up as Nuriko entered her room with his usual cheerful smile on his face. She still couldn't get over how much he looked like a woman. "I figured you'd seen enough of Mitsukake for the day. And I brought you something to eat." He plopped a tray on the table beside her bed. "I know Miaka was a pig. So I brought a lot of food, just in case." He plucked a piece of fish off the tray and popped it in his mouth. "And if you don't eat it all, I'm starving." He dropped into the chair, folding his hands behind his head, as he waited for her to start eating. "Where are you from? Wherever Miaka came from? The both of you arrived dressed in similar clothes."

Chiaki shrugged, taking a piece of fish and nibbling on it slowly. It was strange someone wished to talk to her out of their own will. "I don't know. I guess... If it was her I saw leaving the library, then yes, we came from the same... place?" The strong spices and oils in the fish made her empty stomach churn, and she scrambled out of bed and out the door to vomit up the rejected food.

Nuriko arched an eyebrow and sniffed the food, wondering if it was spoiled. "Are you okay?" he called out, a bit concerned.

She nodded quickly as she woozily returned to bed. She pulled the quilts up to her chin. "I just haven't eaten in a long while," she replied bitterly, feeling hatred for the men who had imprisoned her in Kutou boil over. 'Give me ten minutes alone with Sumo-chin with my bare hands, and he won't be conscious for a month.'

"Oh, right. I forgot... Mitsukake suggested you eat something plain. Sorry." Sheepishly, he held out a bowl of rice. "That should do the trick.... So, you aren't going to eat the rest of this then?"

She smiled and gestured for him to help himself. Studying Nuriko, she finally asked, to satiate her curiosity, "Why do you act like a woman?"

He flitted his hand towards her casually as if to brush away the question. "Oh, you don't want to hear about that. It's a long story."

"I think I can deal with a long story. I'm not exactly going anywhere for the next couple of days."

"No, really. You wouldn't be interested," he repeated with a harder edge in his feminine voice, and Chiaki took the hint.

"What's it like being a warrior of Suzaku?" she asked around a mouthful of deliciously bland rice.

"Oh, it's a cinch. Kill a few monsters here, save the Priestess from our fine friend Nakago there..." he replied with a nonchalant tone. Popping another piece of the meal in his mouth, he added, waving his chopsticks around absently, "Certainly never dull. Everyone wanted a piece of Miaka. You should have been here the time Hotohori-sama killed Tamahome."

Chiaki's head snapped up. Was everyone in this bizarre world a dead man walking? "Killed? But... but isn't he-"

"Well, not killed, exactly," he interrupted, correcting himself. "But he stabbed the poor dolt through with his sword. Mitsukake fixed that up." He rapidly devoured another fish.

"Why? I mean, why did the emperor stab Tamahome."

"That's a long story." And then Nuriko launched into the crazy love triangle with Miaka, Emperor Hotohori, and Tamahome, the plot to kill the priestess using Tamahome, and the dramatic duel between the two men. "For all her whining and gluttonous ways, she really is a likable person." Leaning in closer to the girl, and lowering his voice, he added, "I think even Tasuki considered her a friend. And he hates women."

"Oh..." She pursed her lips, wondering what sort of problems Miaka must have went through as the Priestess, with all the men who were supposed to be her protectors falling in love with her, and everyone else plotting her demise. If she was as brainless as everyone was claiming, she must have enjoyed every minute of it.

"What's the matter?" Nuriko asked around a mouthful of spiced rice. The dark countenance on the girl's face was startling, and he was just beginning to enjoy the cheerful gossip.

Chiaki shook her head. "Just thinking."

"Well do you have to look so depressed when you're doing it? You're depressing me."

She smiled a little and apologized. "I never though I had to control my facial expressions when I get lost in thought."

"Well, just so you know, the only one who is allowed look that serious is Mitsukake. Or Chichiri, but he rarely takes advantage of that useless talent," he informed her, licking his fingers. "It's too depressing if the rest of us do it as well."

She nodded slowly, thinking about what he said. "You're trying to pose as a girl, but you don't eat like a girl," she teased of his habits a moment later.

Nuriko narrowed his eyes. "I'd throw you into that wall if you weren't already bedridden for the night," he threatened with an underlying tone of good humor.

* * *

"We leave for Mt. Takioku tomorrow morning," Hotohori informed the six other seishi of Suzaku. "At least, that's when Chiaki says she'll be ready." He arched a perfect eyebrow at Mitsukake to confirm that she truly would be well. The healer nodded.

"I don't think I could make any trip with a whiney girl," Tasuki complained. "Can't we just... send her with an armed escort, or maybe Chichiri can warp her their with his mystic voodoo powers?" He waved his fingers about and crossed his eyes, flashing a fanged grin and making various noises that were supposed to resemble the voodoo powers of which he spoke.

"Voodoo?" Chichiri exclaimed with slight vehemence in his voice.

Hotohori held a hand to his face and sighed as the two men squabbled. Usually Chichiri kept calm in the face of anything, but lately...

All seven men looked up and fell silent when the door opened. Chiaki peered in cautiously. "I'm not disturbing anything, am I?"

The Emperor shook his head with a gentle smile. "No. Please, enter. How can we help you?"

She stepped further into the room, clutching the robe tightly around her neck. It was really too long, draping over her slender hips and falling to the ground in a puddle of fabric. She was pretty, Hotohori was surprised to admit, 'But she isn't Miaka...'

"I'd like to know what happened to my clothes," she asked shifting uncomfortably under the intent gazes of the seven young men.

"I had my servants discard them. They weren't in much better condition than you were."

"Oh..." She pursed her lips, quite for a moment. "Okay, then is there any way I can get some new clothes? I'm not going to wear this for any trip."

Hotohori allowed himself a few chuckles. "Of course not, of course not... I'm sure there are some ladies clothes around here somewhere." He gave a pointed look in Nuriko's direction. Nuriko puffed a violet strand of hair out of his eyes indignantly.

"Well, actually..." she interrupted. "Pardon me, Hotohori... um... sama... but... I-I don't think I'll be comfortable in anything that elaborate. Is there anything simpler?"

"Nuriko has some men's clothing, when he feels like being manly," Tasuki announced, with a cackle, waggling his red eyebrows a bit.

He growled and punched the other to the ground. "Why my clothes?"

"You're build is most similar to hers," Tamahome pointed out, arching an eyebrow at his fallen comrade, who was groaning in agony. "And, since you started wearing more men's clothes, that will be just what she's looking for."

With an exasperated sigh, he motioned for Chiaki to follow him out of the room. Hesitantly, she apologized for putting him out. With a chuckle, he shook his head. "No, it's them. They..." He drifted off and fell silent. Chiaki was inclined to ask him to continue, when he opened a door and motioned for her to step through. "My clothes are in that chest," he informed her, flopping across his bed with a sigh.

A little bewildered with his behavior, the girl crouched next to the chest and opened it. She was more than baffled by the selection of satin robes and silk dresses she found, and hastily shoved past them. She finally found clothing to be expected of a man, however womanly he appeared, between the layers of frilly silk and other delicate fabrics, much to her relief. She pulled out simple silk tunic and a pair of pants, asking if they were fine to borrow. Nuriko lifted his head to examine her choice and then nodded, flopping his head back down.

"Do you have somewhere I can change?"

"Go right ahead."

She stared at him with an arched brow. "Excuse me? Hey, I'm a girl and you... you're a... well..." she paused, realizing she could be talking her way into trouble. Of course he was a man... but he dressed as a woman... and how did one refer to a crossdresser? Nuriko just regarded her in amusement at her internal battle of uncertainty. "Well, I-I'm not comfortable changing in front of... people."

He grinned roguishly and then pointed across the room. "There's a screen over there that you can change behind. Or you can go to your room."

Chiaki gave him a suspicious look and, gathering the fabric of her robe in one hand and the clothes she was borrowing in the other, left the room. After a few minutes of wandering down one walkway and then another, she realized she was lost. She hadn't paid attention to where she was going as she followed Nuriko to his room, and now... Hearing a loud, whistled tune, she rounded the corner and saw the red-haired man walking towards her. He stopped upon seeing her, and folded his arms over his chest. And for the life of her, she couldn't remember his name.

"Um... Chichiri?" she guessed wildly.

"Do I look like that blue-haired monk to you? It's Tasuki!" he yelled.

She winced. "Oh, sorry... Tasuki then."

"Yeah, whadaya want?"

"Well... I-I'm kind of... well, I'm lost and I-" she paused when Tasuki burst into laughter.

"Lost?" he guffawed.

She rolled her lips together, wondering where Nuriko was- this man could certainly use another swift punch-, before deciding she'd rather take matters into her own hands; literally. Seizing his collar in her fist, she pulled him down to her level. "Yes," she growled through clenched teeth. "Lost. Is there a problem with that?" He was too stunned to answer. "I didn't think so. Now, if you'll be so kind as to show me where my room is...?" She released him and he straightened.

"You didn't have to get so crazy about it," he grumbled under his breath, his pride wounded, as he stalked down the hall. "Come on!" he shouted.

With a sigh, Chiaki gathered the hem of the robe once more, and ran after him.