Disclaimer: They're mine. God's in His heaven and all is right with the world. *sweatdrops* Sorry, wrong show. Anyway, Fushigi Yuugi belongs to Watase Yuu-sensei and associates. I'm just playing around. *hides Nakago and Tamahome in her closet* *chaos ensues* Ooops... *sweatdrops* Baaaad idea. ^^;;
Warning: shounen ai (implied) – (And NO, it's not just my imagination. Or at least not mine alone! ^^v), torture (implied), NO rape!!! Some SPOILERS to the series, though.
Note 1: Well, since the 'prologue' went so well... I actually had the nerve (and the ideas!!) to continue. I'm quite curious how this fanfic will turn out. Suggestions are welcome. Flames will be dealt with. *points to Tasuki*
Note 2: It's my own personal opinion that Nakago-dono, although enjoying some...resistance, would ultimately prefer more...willing partners. Agree? Disagree?? That's okay, too. I'd just like you to tell me why. Please...?
Note 3: Oh, and: ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ = flash-like change of scene (used in flashbacks ^^;;))
( N o t ) L e t t i n g G o
by Hotaru Muraki
~ Chapter One: 'Sayonara' means 'goodbye'? ~
T rustworthy
A lways loyal to his friends
M oney-oriented martial artist
A ware of his abilities
H ardworking, honourable, handsome
O blivious to some things, alert to others
M an in the form of a boy yet
E nergetic and enervating
I can feel his flesh around my arm as I thrust my fist through his body. Finally! Finally, it's all over. Miaka, do you—No, my priestess of Suzaku, my beloved Miaka is still busy comforting her friend Yui. Although the ex-priestess of Seiryuu is hurt, my Miaka is injured, too. And yet she's always worried for anyone but herself, forever looking after others. I guess that is one of the reasons I fell in love with her in the first place.
When I turn back towards...that bastard, I find him watching me. All he does is smirk – as usual. I wonder what's on his mind, though. But then again... Why should I care? It's no longer any concern of mine. Sure, he proclaimed his reasons for his actions. Maybe some of them might even be justified. But. But... There are some things that I will not forgive. Not even him! –Wait a moment. Where did that come from? And why the hell should I want to forgive that...that...Nakago.
Our eyes meet. And as my gaze is pulled towards him, I find myself drowning, falling upwards into the sky. Suddenly, frighteningly, there is something connecting the two of us to the exclusion of everyone and everything else. I am more aware of him than I was before. It feels...strange and yet...familiar at the same time.
As his body begins to disappear, I start to see images. With a start, I realize that these must be his memories, snatches and snippets of his past. I instinctively feel, no, I know that he doesn't want anyone's pity. In fact, he doesn't even need it. But... Why do I of all people get to see this?
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
A small child stumbles along the side of his mother. Their threadbare clothes are foreign, design unknown in these lands. When the mother looks down at her child clinging to her hand, however, she is smiling. The little boy smiles back, the radiant brightness of his smile enhancing the sapphire-blue of his eyes and the gold of his hair. The obvious love and affection between these two people eradicates the shabbiness of their clothes, makes their poverty seem secondary. In short, they are happy.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
The same woman and the same boy, a few years older. They don't seem quite as carefree, as happy as before. Now they are wandering the streets, passing blue-tiled roofs and entrances. The doorways and windows are often occupied with black-haired, dark-eyed people. Some of them are sneering openly. Some of them are just pointing. All of them seem more or less hostile. Some small children even dare to throw stones at these passer-bys, their parents doing nothing to stop them.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Another small, shabby village, maybe a year or two later. The boy appears to be about seven or eight years old. Contrary to what might be expected, the continuous hardships have not diminished the boy. Even now, one can anticipate the handsome man this boy will become one day. However, all the natives of this country see is a beggar brat of some foreign woman. All they see is someone different from them.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
The same village, early afternoon. Soldiers are milling around on the streets, chasing anyone looking to be of foreign origin. Here and there, bodies lie on the ground, unmoving. The little boy cowers behind a rainwater-barrel, not daring to move from where his mother hid him earlier. He is sorely tempted to bolt when he sees his mother running by. She had known there'd be trouble when that noisy troupe of soldiers had descended upon the small village. And still she foolishly had gone back to try and retrieve their meagre belongings before they might be caught. Part of a conversation they had had a few days ago replays itself in the little boys head. "...Mama, why do they hate us so? Have we done something bad?" – "No, dear one. We have done nothing wrong. These people merely hate us because we are not like them. People always fear that which is different. They are afraid of that which they don't know or understand..."
Then he does bolt when he sees some soldiers chasing and cornering his mother. The boy valiantly tries to defend his mother – but what can one rather skinny little boy accomplish against fully grown, trained men? And as the little boy is kicked back once again, having to watch two of them holding down his struggling mother, he suddenly feels his rage dissipate. Or, rather, his rage is fanned so greatly that he cannot tell whether it feels scorching or icy. And in the calm centre of this storm, Nakago-to-be feels the symbol blaze on his forehead for the first time. A blue haze descends upon him.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Charred bodies strewn haphazardly across the street, soldiers only recognizable by molten bits of metal clinging to bits of seared skin or burnt leather. The only being alive within a radius of about a hundred feet is a skinny, wide-eyed frightened boy of about seven years. He does not yet understand the looks of horror on the faces of those watching the scene. He does not yet know what has really transpired here. All he knows is that his mother, maybe the only person to ever love him, is dead. And it is all his fault. Then the little boy knows no more. A scared-looking soldier has snuck up behind him, clobbering him with the hilt of his sword.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Nakago-to-be, with feet and hands bound, is thrown at the base of the Kutou-emperor's throne. When a brutal hand pulls him upwards again, the frightened boy sees, for the first time, the man who is responsible for and will be the cause of most of the pain in Nakago-to-be's life.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Returning from some minor skirmish, Nakago, feared shogun of the Kutou-army, finds a girl in strange clothes. She falls unconscious at his feet just as he motions for his soldiers to chase after and 'deal with' the thugs.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
A brown-haired, annoying girl tries to rescue her friend. The blond girl, Yui, however, decides to trap her. For some probably imagined, childish slight, the loud-mouthed brat has to suffer. And as she lies helpless in the palace's Temple of Seiryuu, about to receive the finishing blow, Nakago feels a great...force approaching. The Priestess of Suzaku is thrown back but is caught by one of her seishi just before she hits the door. Then the door, sealed and locked is blown inwards. The Suzaku-seishi whom Nakago had met once already moved through the door. Even though the sanctuary is still sealed by Seiryuu's power, this Tamahome-guy forces his way inside. Symbol on his forehead blazing brightly, he pushes against Seiryuu's seal with all his strength. And to Nakago's grudgingly though silently given admiration, the boy succeeds. As blazing violet-grey eyes lock with cool sapphire ones, Nakago feels...something for the first time in all too long a while.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
In exchange for the Kutou-armies not-advancing further onto Kounan-territory, Tamahome has agreed to be a hostage. Although the Priestess of Seiryuu thinks this is entirely her idea, it is actually due to Nakago's indirect influence, through carefully voiced suggestions that this has come to pass. And while Nakago does want to see that boy again, he does not want to admit it even to himself.
When he sees that boy, Tamahome, again Nakago feels...something. He does not yet know what it is, though. Even as Tamahome glares at him, violet-grey eyes scorching, Nakago realizes that he—
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Many nights spent alone, ignoring Tomo's silent astonishment as well as Soi's rather pointed sulking. Nakago is kept busy during the day but at night, resting alone in his cold, empty bed he—
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
His spies have told Nakago that the Priestess of Suzaku has fallen gravely ill in some remote village, might even be in danger of dying. When he tells the Priestess of Seiryuu about this, he makes sure that Tamahome is somewhere near enough to be able to 'accidentally' listen in on their conversation. Nakago distantly wonders what will be stronger in the young Suzaku-warrior: honouring his promise or following that foolish attachment to the Priestess of Suzaku. However, Nakago has made 'preparations' should the latter be the case.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Tamahome actually tries to run off. Nakago is ready for that. Using his whip to stop the boy from leaving, Nakago coolly advises Tamahome of the heavy price hostages pay for attempting to flee. For once, Lady Yui does not object. She doesn't want to lose the boy either – but for altogether different reasons. However, she does not witness what happens before or after the whipping...
~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
I blink, abruptly drawn back to the present. Nakago's body has disappeared completely by now, but... The crackling flames illuminate the scene, highlighting the destruction around me. My senses are assaulted by sirens wailing in the background, burning rubber and other things I do not know of, but my mind is still lingering on what I saw. Taking all that happened into account, I think I might eventually if not forgive then at least come to terms with why......he did what he did. With time, I might even be able to understand. Nakago is a formidable warrior, ingenuous in battle, ruthless in the pursuit of his goals, highly skilled in many areas. No. He was. He is dead and gone now. And... He will be missed. Then Miaka is running towards me, shouting happily something I'm yet too far away to understand. And I... I think of all that has been, of all that has happened. Of all the people who have died. Of—
A single tear slips down my face, falling to the ground unnoticed just as Miaka runs the last few steps towards me, arms outstretched in a longing embrace. Finally. Sayonara. . .
To be continued...
Author's Notes: Well, that went rather better than I expected. The outlines for the next few chapters are planned at least. Whether the chappies will actually turn out the way I planned them – that's an altogether different story. __;; Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this.
Replies to reviews
@ Ish: Thank you. I love meeting other N/T-fans. *beg* And I definitely, definitely will have them meeting up. *ties Tamahome up to stop him from running off* Although this could be a bit harder than I first imagined... *warily glances at Nakago-like shape hovering in the shadows, waiting*
@ otaku-no-miko: Thanks for the compliments. (I was mistaken for a traffic-light due to the blush I developed after reading this. ~__^) And thank you very much for your offer. I might really take you up on it. Is it still valid if this is (probably!) mainly NxT...?
@ Reinassinnax: i'm glad u luv me fic. will definately write more. dunno understand yr comments though. could u explain some, pleaze?