Author's Notes: Although I've been a long time fan, I never got the time to publish any of my written work on Yuu Watase's Fushigi Yuugi. This particular fic was due years ago, although I've taken the time to use a different writing style from the one that I used from when I first wrote this. The title is from a song by ANGGUN, which is rather haunting.
Snow on the Sahara
00.
It was sometime during the middle of winter, when the snow gently drifted over the high peaks of Mount Leikaku, that Genrou, once known as Tasuki of the Suzaku Shichiseishi and now a bandit king decided to make his way down to the imperial capital, and into the cities beyond.
Whether this choice was that made out of a search for new treasures to bring back to his mighty horde of warriors, or to forget certain demons within his past, he could not tell. A smirk of irony formed on his face at the thought. At the then-considered old age of twenty-five, he did not feel that he had grown much.
There were still a few things that showed himself as a child.
Out of the thoughts that plagued him nightly in his sleep, that of proving himself to his men no longer crossed his mind. After the short rule of that pig, Eiken, he knew that his command was a welcome change of pace, and the service that was given to him was not born out of fear or deceit, but rather one born out of the bonds of loyalty shown on that fateful day that the battle between Kutou and Konan was fought.
So… no. Even though he would've loved to use the loyalty of that rowdy group of men up in that mountain as an excuse, the inner turmoil, though easily dismissible, was brought by the thoughts of only one person. There had only been one person, whose mere existence had already woven through his mind, almost leading him to obsession. That person was her.
Ah, yes, Miaka Yuuki. To the people that lived within the boundaries of the southern country, she had been a deity of the most interesting make. To the Suzaku Shichiseishi, however, she had been that and a bit more. Miaka had been a friend.
And to him she had been the constant memory that haunted his mind, each day. Even with his constant reiteration of how childish he was, the thought of her would never leave.
Inwardly, he wondered if she was happy.
Tamahome… Taka Sukunami… She had chosen him, in the end. He almost laughed, but instead smiled somewhat bitterly. She had always chosen him. He thought, correcting himself. Not even the emperor had a chance.
As for him? Well, obviously, this was what he was left to. A madman making his way down a snow and sleet covered mountain because he couldn't take the memories that constantly repeated themselves in his mind.
It was Kouji's suggestion that he took a trip.
"Don't worry, Genrou!" His mildly schizophrenic subordinate and friend had reassured him, "I'll hold the fort for yah. And no lousy pig is gonna take yer place this time!"
The gesture was said over the clanking mugs of wine and the pitchers that were passed around. Inwardly, he was happy. He really did need a vacation. He wasn't allowed a time to think ever since he and the monk had parted ways.
As he continued to walk forth, during that relatively nice winter day, he managed to look up and see the sun light fall onto the patches of snow in front of him. Somehow, he thought it ironic how even with the sun he couldn't feel the warmth.