A/N: YES! Another HotoMia one-shot! Go insomnia! Make me write! This one is rather choppy, as I didn't know what to write but knew I wanted to write a HotoMia one-shot and this is what came out. Italics depict thoughts.
The sun was just settling over the lake, causing the water to shine in reds, oranges, and yellows. The humidity in the air was fading, as the temperature dropped, causing a thin layer of moisture on everything that's not indoors.
Sitting at a table strategically placed on a veranda so he could view the setting sun, a man delicately wrote a letter, being careful to not get any ink on the long sleeves of his robe. When he was finished, the sun had long set, and he was covered with a fine dew.
Not taking mind what the moisture might do to his hair, he folded up the letter and summoned a nearby servant. After giving them specific instructions, the attendant ran off down the terrace.
Momentarily satisfied, his stomach growled. Realizing it was near time for dinner to be ready, he himself started down the veranda. Hearing voices in the distance, he realized that it was indeed near dinnertime.
"I'm starrrvinnnggg!" Miaka whined, clutching her stomach.
"You're always hungry!" Tamahome laughed, petting her head.
Giving them a precious moment to themselves, a needed commodity in such a time, he did not venture any farther. Going a different route to the dining hall, he was not surprised to learn that he was the last one to have arrived.
"Hotohori!" Miaka said. "You're always so busy with imperial duties! You should have some fun!"
Hotohori softly smiled at her and said nothing. Dinner continued uninterrupted with Tamahome and Miaka laughing and Nuriko and Tasuki playing jokes on another. Chiriko occasionally gave an insight on a rare fact and Mitsukake just kept to himself.
Hotohori knew the battle with Kutou would be soon. He did not know exactly when, but it was inevitable.
Thus, the letter.
Tamahome laughed. "Imagine what would have happened if I hadn't saved you from those slavers!"
"Yeah!" Miaka laughed with him. "Because of you I'm safe! You're my savior!"
Savior.
Hotohori's chest constricted. One simple word caused a woman's heart to open.
If only I'd been there…came the traitorous thought. Hotohori quickly shook it away. There was no way he could have been there when she arrived from her world.
But still…the thought haunted him. If only he could replace Tamahome as her savior. He knew no matter what he did though, that first instance of rescue would remain in Miaka's heart forever.
Thus, the letter.
He looked upon his seishi, his brothers. He looked upon his Priestess of Suzaku. They were all laughing and eating, their cares momentarily forgotten. He smiled. He was very lucky to have friends such as them.
Friends, he thought. I'd never thought I'd use the word. He recounted every thought, every emotion he had poured into that one piece of paper. It was hard to write just one page, but he knew that one would suffice under the circumstances. It was the most difficult of the series of letters he had written.
He smiled once again, softly yet sadly, as he watched the love of his life laugh at a joke another man told.
4 Years Later
Miaka and Taka were moving around some old boxes in her mother's old apartment. They were getting a place of their own and thought it was necessary to remove some of Miaka's old stuff.
Looking in one of the boxes, Taka found a wooden box. Looking at it curiously, he caught Miaka's attention. Her eyebrows furrowed together but said that it would go with them. The other contents of the box were Miaka's old backpack that had once gone to Ancient China as well as a treasured photograph of seven warriors.
After a few weeks of getting settled in their new place, Miaka was doing some cleaning while Taka was at work. She came across the wooden box again. Looking at it curiously once more, she set upon herself to open it.
After a few minutes, the lid popped open. Inside, she noticed, was a piece of parchment that had been folded up. Taking care not to harm it, she unpeeled it.
She recognized the handwriting. Slowly reading what was written, her eyes went wide. Then, she broke down into sobs.
Hotohori had written her a letter. A letter that told her every detail about her that made him love her, his happiness on her found love with Tamahome, how he will miss her when he's gone, and his regrets on not being her savior.
She sobbed until she dry heaved. When Taka came home and noticed her red, puffy eyes and current state of distress, he did all he could to cheer her up.
The next day, Taka had grudgingly gone to work. Miaka had not told him about the letter nor the cause of her distress.
Looking blankly out the window, Miaka clutched a drawing to her chest. A drawing of Hotohori. My savior…
End.