Milk White and the Seven Thingamajiggers

by Rhygell

Slam Dunk people in Midgard living out the story of Snow White? Confusing? But of course! Rukawa Kaede starring as Milk White. Thingamajiggers is the term for the undefinable. :D You'd never think of Snow White the same way ever again. [YAOI]

2. Milk White and the Nine Realms

Title: Milk White and the Nine Realms (2/3)

Genre: Fantasy/Comedy/Romance?

Rating: For children at least 10 years old and above. Ehm … come to think about it … no, this is for people no younger than 13, and those who approve of yaoi.

Disclaimer: dripping with sarcasmOf course I own SD; that's why I'm writing a fanfic for lark and NOT making some more episodes and raking in cash.

Sheesh.Slam Dunk belongs to Inoue Takehiko. Snow White is a story that I can borrow without infringing anything, right? Ragnarok (the online RPG) is not mine, and damn, I don't play anymore. So there.

Notes: This still contains stuff that only my friends and me could understand (like the significance of the gemstones :D). Don't mind. Anyway. Snow White is too overrated; I tried so hard to boost the story. I hope it's likeable enough. Do tell me though if I sound too much like a Fantasy aficionado and should pry myself away from rereading Kushiel's Legacy by Jacqueline Carey for the nth time (lies prostrate on the floor Anafiel Delaunay, I'm not worthy! I dedicate this fic to you, Antinous!).

Summary: More plot twists than ever. You will never think of Snow White the same way ever again. (Man, I sound like an efin blurb.)

"WELL, this seems familiar."

Milk White heard a soft, strained laugh, coming from somewhere near to his left. He winced at the noise, feeling as if someone was using his head as a drum. Trying to open his eyes, he struggled to sit up in the bed, remembering how he came to lie on it. The last thing he could recall was a young lady who called herself Haruko … He must have done something rash, because spots swam before his eyes. Rukawa groaned.

"There, there, Rukawa-san." A pair of hands pushed him to lie back down. Kaede resisted for a while, before realizing that his body was not up to the challenge. "You should relax. You still need to rest. Quietly."

"I told you we should have restrained him," the voice he recognized as the Hunter's commented wryly. He was the one who had laughed when the Rose Princess stirred.

The Crown Prince opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt as if it were the size of the Palace, and dry as a boot. He gave a low moan.

A cool towel patted his lips, leaching water to his parched mouth. He moved his lips upward, pressing them to the smooth wet cloth.

"And how do you suggest to restrain him, Smiley?" Milk White didn't have to see Oldie's face to know that he had raised an eyebrow. Sarcasm oozed generously from his tone. "By tying him up? By trussing him like a roasted pig, perhaps? Or maybe by cuffing his limbs to the bedposts?"

"If your suggestion is among the lines of having someone lie on top of him, my dear Hunter," Wizard Beauty said, and the Prince realized that it was he who was tending to him, "then you are sorely mistaken. He would have killed that person upon waking."

Milk White smirked to himself, thanking the Wizard for knowing him enough for that.

"I wasn't suggesting myself, Beauty-kun." Ha! As if! The wolf, somewhere near enough to feel its warmth, gave a growl, as if daring anyone to challenge his Master.

Noisy couldn't have picked any better timing than he had. He used the golden opportunity to butt in, before anyone could pay attention to him and hinder him from speaking.

"Who are you?" he demanded, walking over to the bed where Rukawa lay. The Prince stifled a wince, feeling too helpless for his taste. The Swordsman pointed at him with his forefinger. Amazingly enough, everyone seemed too weary to stop him at that moment. Milk White himself, when he saw the worry and tension eating at the others, judged that listening to the ranting was better than halting it.

The wild-haired Noisy continued. "Why does anyone bother to send a magic powerful enough to kill you? Who are you? Are you a refugee? Why? From whom do you escape? Why did you come to us? How did you know about us? Who told you?" The questions were an endless stream bursting through the dam.

The Mage seemed disconcerted as he held up a hand to interrupt the interrogation, but he looked as if he wanted to wring out the answers from the bedridden Prince himself. It was Oldie who took care of the problem at hand. He placed a finger against his lips, motioning that they should hear the Prince speak his defense.

"I, too, want to know," he said simply.

Rukawa's vision blurred as he sat up, but after a few blinks, it was clear again, enough to see that all seven were waiting for him. "But who are you?" Milk White thought to himself in reply to the barrage of questions. He took in the sight of them; the Hunter, the Monk, and the Wizard were the ones nearest the bed. The Blacksmith was leaning against the wall, while the Mage and the curious Swordsman sat next to each other, a polite distance away from him. The mournful Rogue was sitting on top of the low dresser just behind Friar Wise.

He cleared his throat. "And you?" His voice was no more than a whisper; his throat felt tender and his tongue filled his parched mouth. It hurt to talk. "Why was I asked to come to you? Who are you? How can you have the power to save me? Why would you want to?" He paused, taking a deep lungful of breath. It was tiring, just trying to stay awake. He closed his eyes tightly. The light was too bright all of a sudden.

"And why should we trust you with who we are?" Shorty countered, fidgeting in his seat. Smiley shot him a look. "Not being overly cautious, now, no offense, but how do we know that what we ask for would be safe if we do give it?" It was natural for Noisy to be nodding as if he were the one who have spoken himself, but Pretty's eyes widened with the gradual understanding of the situation. It was giving Rukawa a migraine.

Well, the Crown Prince couldn't really blame him; he would have said the same for them if he were in their position. But he wasn't. And to top it all off, he doesn't know how to answer the question satisfactorily, either. He opened his mouth, and closed it immediately afterward.

Pretty raised an eyebrow. "How can he trust us likewise, Shorty?" He gave a laugh. The shrewd look in his eyes made Rukawa's relief go into smoke, though. "Politics."

"Someone told you to come to us?" But it was not a question. There was a strange glint in the Hunter's blue eyes, a feeling that he conveyed to his Companions. The wolf growled softly, but not threateningly, and the hawk flew out of the open doorway in a loud flutter of feathers. "Who? Why did he or she tell you about us? How can anyone else know about us except …?" he trailed off, frowning.

A pregnant silence hung; the only sounds were of the Monk's beads in his braids. Friar Wise, not on anybody's side except for his patient's recovery, took the cloth from Beauty's stilled hands. He dabbed at the Prince's lips with the sopping material, frowning when he noticed how shallow his breathing was, and how the blue veins show clearly through the skin. He clicked his tongue and began mixing the contents of small vials smelling of freshly cut grass in a shallow bowl, leaving the moist fabric on his lips.

The other six did not waver in their gazes.

Until the Wizard rolled his eyes. "Evidently, nothing can be learned from either parties until we all get some semblance of rest." He narrowed his eyes; it was clear now, if it hadn't been before, that he was the leader among the seven. "Hmm?"

Noisy shot Milk White a triumphant look on his way out. The Blacksmith saw, and rewarded the insufferably arrogant Swordsman with a cuff for his efforts. Pretty, with a hand on his chin and a far-away look on his blue eyes, exited the room without further comment. Shorty poked and prodded the stupefied Hunter to motion.

That left the Wizard and the Monk, who was still busily mixing the restorative tonic for Rukawa, who eyed both warily. The water on the cloth was drying up fast and the magician absently dipped it into the basin and replaced it on his mouth.

"Wise," Beauty admonished the cleric. He produced a clean white towel smelling lightly of herbs and dabbed at the Monk's sweating forehead. Blue eyes concerned, he touched the other lightly on the cheeks with his fingertips. "You need to rest, too."

He did not look up at the man beside him, absorbed in dropping a hazy green tincture to the tonic. It turned a light cloudy purple. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the debate. "But Beauty …"

The Wizard crossed his arms stubbornly. "You haven't broken your fast today, either. When was the last time you've eaten?" The man in question remained silent. "Well?"

"I forgot," was the terse reply. "It didn't seem to important at the time, and nobody was watching over Rukawa then."

Beauty would have spoken, but he only watched as Wise poured the contents of the bowl into a porcelain flask. When the container was handed to him, he removed the towel, then let the Prince drink the liquid in tiny sips. Afterwards, he dipped the material in the basin and wrung it out, leaving it pleasantly damp, and put it on top of Milk White's mouth.

As if he could not contain himself, Beauty spoke harshly. "You're not guarding Rukawa after he falls asleep." Before the Monk could object, he continued, cerulean eyes ablaze, voice rising sharply. "I forbid it! There's no point if you fall over from exhaustion while watching him!" Milk White was surprised at the presence of tears just threatening to spill over. "I demand your avowed deference at once."

Wise did not speak, but by the set of his lips, he showed no sign of complying with the other's wishes.

"It is my right! I invoke it now. Obey me!" The Wizard's hands clutched at the Monk's shoulders painfully. "You swore to follow me while we remain in this country. You are not an oath-breaker, or have you already recanted your promises, Friar Wise?"

Spectacled brown eyes met raging blue calmly. "I've broken enough vows for you, my Lord Wizard. Why should this be any different from the others?"

"I cannot command you in this, can I?" It was Beauty who dropped his gaze first. "All this for a child. I should be jealous but … won't you take it easy for a while?" His voice quivered, the authority leeching out and pleading taking its place. "Even for my sake?"

With a jolt, Rukawa realized that though the Wizard was standing behind the seated Monk, his arms were wrapped around the taller, bulkier frame, and their cheeks were pressed together. Beauty's eyes were closed, and through the thick lashes, the tears fell down the creamy cheeks. The Wizard's words made him feel uncomfortable enough, yet this was definitely …

Wise received the embrace passively, sad brown eyes on their laced fingers. "I see him as a son, Kenji, and I just can't let him dwindle before my eyes. I have to do this for me … for us … I can't help it, honey. I can't …"

"Shhh."

The Prince's cheeks enflamed, and he was glad that he controlled it enough that it only showed a faint tinge of pink. It was indecent! Rukawa was thankful that Beauty's hair was long enough and full enough to curtain what they were doing, but still! It's like watching your parents on their honeymoon! Or make your younger sibling! Both! Whatever!

Finally, the moment passed, though it felt like forever to the young (but legal) Milk White. He noticed the Monk's color improve, as if actually fortified by the kiss. Better not to think about that. Then he saw the slight discoloration, just a small bruise, on Wise's neck. He flushed. If this had been going around a long time ago, he was amazed at their noise control. Or were there amulets and seals of that kind too? He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"But why, Toru?" Wise was smiling; he pressed two fingers on top of Beauty's somewhat swollen lips. Rukawa burned anew. Better to think about other things and haul his mind out of the gutter …

"I have to, sweetheart." The Monk shook his head. "You remind me of vows. What of the ones we swore to our friends? Is he Naughty's son? Or Virtuous's? Or both, may the Goddess have mercy? He certainly bears the mark of them on his features." He frowned. "Though why he hadn't begun to Slow, I can't begin to fathom, with that much Spirit."

"You make the old wounds bleed, beloved." Beauty's voice was low. "Do you think it possible? That he is from a union between Naughty and Virtuous?"

"Have you given up? If anyone can do it, those two can." Forgetting the Wizard's head on his shoulder, the Monk almost shrugged. "There's hope still, I believe. Sensitive left us to search for a way."

He worried a lip between his teeth, his tone tart. His fingers played with the wooden beads on the Monk's hair. "Seventeen summers had passed, Toru. He has not returned."

"No," Wise agreed. "He has not." He reached up to caress the Wizard's face, smiling at him tenderly. "But, Kenji, I do not give up on the secret."

They looked at each other, seemingly unaware of the Milk White, who lay absolutely motionless, wishing he were blissfully ignorant and unconscious. His ears were burning so fiercely that he was sure that the two lovers felt it.

"A bond between a Bard and a Dancer is the strongest, but that doesn't mean that we can't work it out, does it? Stop fretting, Kenji. And anyway," the Monk was saying, "aren't they marked of their heritage? If he is who we believe he is, we could simply …"

The Wizard shook his head. "We must have his permission, love, you know that."

Before Rukawa could betray himself with a twitch, Beauty realized that he was still awake. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes before addressing the extremely discomfited Rose Princess. "We will be posting Protectors at your door, child. Best not to worry, and just trust us." At that, he grimaced. "Not that you could do anything otherwise, of course. But still. Ah. There is time for this rather tedious politicking later."

"Know that we mean you no harm," Wise assured him, as he lit the censers, all bearing various purgative herbal scents. He felt better, already. Though seeing that the two were not kissing anymore might have something to do with it. "If we wished you dead, we would not have tried to save you at all."

"All will be well," Beauty pronounced with a forceful tone and a more beguiling smile. "And all is well. As for the other matters … we shall speak of it soon enough. Now rest."

Milk White's eyes widened at the sudden comprehension, even as sleep started to tug at him. Their names. He knew their names. First names, at least. Names were power here, in this Land, and he knew theirs. He could use it right now, to curse them, to command them … but how to invoke the power? How to control it? Dangerous magic. The Wizard Beauty – Kenji, he was called, and lovingly, at that – gave him a sensible advice, and it was better to act upon it rather than dwell on his suspicions.

The tonic was finally working. So, as much as he was distraught by the next events, he was too sleepy to do anything about it.

Wise tucked the blanket more comfortably about him; the Wizard gave Rukawa a light peck above his brow, and bid him goodnight and healing. As the Monk did, before he left.

"Sleep sound and wake, child. We are watching over you."

"CAN'T sleep, Smiley?"

Rukawa felt groggy and out of sorts. He had no idea how much time had passed since he was last awake, but if the amount of moonlight would be his judged, it had been two or three nights. There was a covered glass of whatever colorless liquid was resting on top of the table beside him, along with a vial containing a cloudy purple solution. He did not need to smell or taste it to know that it contained a tincture of opium. His hand quested for the water but was stilled when he heard the voice of the Blacksmith. Apparently, he and someone else were conversing just outside his room.

"Are the stars too bright for you or what?" Smiley was probably drowning in cynicism by now. "Don't tell me this is the first time you've seen a shooting star."

The Hunter's unusually melancholic tone stilled the mockery and jesting from his companion. "I Dreamt about Cross." Even at a distance, the capitals were hard to miss.

"Dream." From the sounds, Milk White could deduce that the Blacksmith was walking past the shrubs. "You haven't Dreamt for a long while, Smiley. And you have such an interesting choice of subject, too."

"I don't think that it's just because I miss him, Shin-kun, unless I'm hitting puberty again, which would be horrifying, if you think about it." He sighed. "What if it were Hiro-kun who told him about us?" Rukawa did not have to be a genius to know that the second "him" was himself. And he did not have to imagine the sad hopeful smile on Smiley's face, either; he felt it. "Maybe he's in grave danger, or Naughty is. I'm not sure. That's why he sent Rukawa – or whoever he was – to us. That's why I Dreamt."

It was not hard to paint the picture of the Blacksmith with his arms crossed, a thoughtful frown on his lips. Milk White eyed the vial. He wasn't sure if eavesdropping like this was worth it. On the other hand, laudanum would only knock him out and leave him as ignorant as pie. Ignorance was bliss; have he not heard that somewhere?

"You gave up on actively helping Naughty and Cross … and the rest … a long time ago, Akira. You told me that when you sought refuge in my country, peer to peer. Let it go. It's all in the past."

The back of Rukawa's neck prickled, sweat drenching him. All over his body, his hair tried to stand.

"Shin'ichi … I can't … you remind me of my words, but … Naughty was the only one who gave a damn … and Hiro-kun …" Were those sobs? Now that was fairly hard to think about. With a decisive motion, he drained the glass and the vial, which he regretted immediately. But wasn't regret the genius of afterthought? "What am I going to do? He looks like them … looks like him too much."

It was a much stronger dose. Rukawa felt woozy already, but his hearing remained clear before totally numbed by sleep. As if he could understand what they were saying.

"And if he is Naughty's son?" The words spoken by Wise –Toru – were the same ones Oldie – Shin'ichi – now spoke to the Hunter – Akira. His lips curled in a moue of perplexity. "Or maybe Cross's son?"

"Hair of midnight, eyes of twilight," the Blacksmith intoned.

Why does it matter whose son am I? It was fatigue talking. So what if you know I'm Crown Prince Kaede, son of Hisashi and Kiminobu? What's going to change? Are you going to sell me out to the usurper Queen or what? Who the hell are you people anyway?

The Hunter was talking again, so the Crown Prince quieted his mind and listened, even if he would rather sleep.

"Yes." Akira laughed. "So the songs say about us."

"Though they seem to have forgotten the seemingly hereditary perversion your line possesses." Shin'ichi cut all protests with, "Take it as a compliment, Akira. Though I'm minded to know the answer to my previous question."

"No." Maybe a shake of his head, or a stomp of his left foot, would go with it. "Never Hiro-kun's. He promised." Maybe he would have bitten his lip, or stroked the hawk that was perched on his arm, or ruffled the wolf's dusky ruff. "Well … Unless, of course he managed to ferret out the secret before he left and I didn't know and it was our last night together and all … Rukawa does look a lot like Naughty, but then he never liked girls, so … if Virtuous puzzled the secret out … why would their son be in danger? They were of the strongest among us." Smiley groaned in despair. "It's just that I'm so tired, Shin-kun. I can't figure it out. I've given up hope, but …"

"There is always the possibility that you're just making all the connections up, Akira, get a hold of yourself." Placating; exactly how to sooth a madman.

"Yes, there is that." It was said with a soft exhalation of breath. It was hard to continue imagining what they were doing now. Were they, perhaps, as close as Wise and Beauty are? Or were each as lonely as the clever Rogue, only bonded by friendship? Whatever the case, if they were getting to the kissy and love-love parts and all that, at least, Rukawa can't see them, which was a relief. Not that he was against any of it, given that he has two fathers, but still …

"But then, why the markings on the Talisman, Shin-kun? That was a work of Hiro-kun, or else I'm the Lady of the Hearth herself." There was anguish in his voice, Rukawa was sure. And it was full of befuddled conjecture. "What if he's my son, for crying out loud?"

Shin'ichi – Oldie – chuckled at the thought; at which one, exactly, Milk White was not sure. Was it at the Lady remark, or at the son remark?

It was getting harder to keep his grasp at consciousness. He should have known not to drink the tonic right away. Friar Wise had strengthened the dosage since that completely awkward scene with the Wizard. Comparing the shame to the information he might glean … But the Blacksmith was speaking again, and he was so drowsy he could barely hear them …

"By tomorrow, you can ask Rukawa himself."

Son? Rukawa blinked. Smiley actually toys with the possibility that they might be father and son? He never did get to analyze that part.

That Smiley was his father? Was the Hunter deranged? If he thinks that he can sire at an age where he haven't even learned to walk yet, maybe. Anyway, unless the Hunter was actually King Hisashi in disguise, he couldn't be. Hiroaki. Now, why did that sound so familiar? And what was the secret they were all obsessed about, which somebody, by some unknown reason or intent, managed to unearth? Come to think about it, how did Captain Koshino know about these … thingamajiggers? And why did he send him here?

WHEN Rukawa woke up the next morning, he was healed enough to want to get up and take a bath immediately. Which made his housemates very cheerful people indeed. Only propriety, and verbal abuse from the Wizard and the Blacksmith, kept Smiley and his companions (the hawk and the wolf, I wouldn't call them pets) out of the bathroom while Milk White luxuriated in the tub filled with warm water to his shoulders.

Delicious cooking smells wafted in the closed doors from the kitchen. Pretty's cooking, no doubt. Or whoever. Thank Heavens he didn't have to endure Oldie's so-called culinary expertise for today. Even Rukawa was a better cook than he was, and all that the Rose Princess could do in the kitchen was commit arson.

The Prince sighed. He should have known No doubt, all of them were excited that answers would finally be given that day. Just how long had they been put off from the issue? he wondered.

"Three days and two nights, if it pleases my Lord," the voice replied to his thoughts.

Rukawa was not the type to yelp and flounder about, so he settled for an icy glare. And tucking his legs closer to his body; there was no need for the person to see much more of him than what he wanted to be seen.

"Who are you?" Well, that seemed to be the matter of dispute between he and his housemates recently.

"I am a Protector, if it pleases my Lord." He could not decide if the person was male or female. He had enough experience of dressing up in female clothing to know that someone does not necessarily have to be a girl to dress up in feminine fashion. "I am appointed to guard my Lord's person from all sorts of unwanted attention and look after him, if it pleases." As if someone, pretty enough to make him catch his breath, with long brown hair and large brown eyes, watching him bathe did not supply him with 'unwanted attention'.

That was certainly enlightening. Milk White did not say a word. The Protector did not say a word, which was a blessing. He never had been a chatty person, and being saved from near death did not change that. Though he did wish he knew how to address the Follower. And which, from she or he, was correct. If he was to go by appearance, the Follower was she, if by voice, he. It was a confusing business.

"I am called Moon Flower, and you can address me as such, if it pleases my Lord," the Follower answered promptly. "And I am male, so 'he' is the correct term, if it pleases."

Rukawa inclined his head to show that he understood. You read my thoughts? How? he ventured.

Moon Flower nodded his assent, which sent the pair of bells attached to his hair tinkling. "Yes. I am aware of them because the amount of Spirit you and I command enables us to communicate that way, if it pleases you. My Lord Beauty, whom I have served longest, requests that, if it pleases, all questions be asked later, to ..." He seemed to be searching for a term, but could not find it. "To them. To the Seven."

The Seven? So humble a designation. There was no point in worrying about that, so he stood up, and thankfully enough, Moon Flower withdrew his gaze, modest yet vigilant. Rukawa thanked him as he toweled and dressed, and the Protector offered to comb his hair. An impulsive thought perturbed him enough to ask, "Why do you follow the Seven?" 'And are not among them', was left unsaid.

The man ran the comb through the blue-black hair, unsnarling the tangles with swift gentle pulls. "For revenge, I need to stay alive. To stay alive, Star Seeker, my own Protector, has to agree to the bargain that we could not refuse. We negotiated with them; we trusted them. My enemies have not found me, and will not, if it pleases. And I still have a shot at revenge, since I am alive, and so is Star Seeker, no?" Moon Flower loosely braided the still-damp raven locks. "And besides, the Seven, they do keep secrets well."

"DO you swear to tell the truth? No lies by omission and clouding meanings by particular phrasing?"

Pretty regarded Milk White with cool blue eyes, shifting his weight on the cushion. "Some things are better left unknown, unsaid. Surely, you, of all people, know that."

The Wizard shook his head. "Truth hurts, and the ones we do not know hurt most."

"When finally divulged," the Mage agreed, but did not comment further.

"And the aliases?" the Prince demanded, without heat, only to understand.

The Monk held out his hands, an offer of goodwill, seeking to be indulged. "Part of the Ritual. Part of the Custom which makes us what we are. They are merely cognomens for our Jobs, nothing more."

"We're all of the High Caste," the Hunter – High Hunter – offered, and in reply to the reproachful stares, added, "he might as well know it; it wasn't much of a secret." Which was, of course, true.

"Your silence endangered us," the High Swordsman accused with a somewhat dour relish. "And as much as we value privacy, we will not dwell in ignorance when a reckoning can be achieved." And by his tone, it would be achieved right now.

Oldie crossed his arms. "Know that we only want to know what is needful for all our safety." Then, he waved his words away. "No matter. You understand what my Apprentice said, I can presume as much. But I do trust that if we agree to your terms, you would exact the same on yourself."

Noisy and Shorty's brown eyes pounded at him like relentless hammers, with the complacent Hunter and his Companions as the anvil. He would not be daunted; he would not back out. "Of course." Rukawa gesticulated.

"I am Kenji, High Seat of the House Fujima, Ruling House of the Diamond Mountains." The High Wizard smiled wryly. "I think there's also the tiresome litany of whatever titles I might have forgotten, which all amount to the same thing." He snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. I am also the regnant of the High Lands, though I haven't gone there in years."

Wise touched the wooden beads that were threaded to his braided waist-length hair. "This is how Spirit priests wear their hair in the Jade Forests, though I had never practiced my art during an emergency." He smiled. "I am High Lord Hanagata Toru, member of the Council of the Peers, the ruling body of the Garnet Shore. I daresay that's enough titles." The High Monk inclined his head, and the Prince touched his lips and bowed his head, an aristocrat acknowledging his like. He grinned at Fujima. "And like Kenji here, it's been a long time since I last visited my holdings."

"Duke Maki Shin'ichi, Lord of the Duchies of Unsullied Waters and Howling Winds, in the Emerald Lakes." Milk White frowned. So far, all three had held – were still holding – positions of extreme power in their respective countries. This was fishy.

"Margrave Jin Soichirou, Third in Line to the Mandrake Throne of the Opal Marshes." He winced. "I don't suppose you'd want every other name I have, so let that suffice."

"Miyagi Ryouta, fourth child of the ruling Lady of the Sapphire Islands." There can only be a Lady in the Sapphire Islands; never had a male been made heir. "And currently host to the Headquarters." Well, that was another question answered: what country were they in?

"Kiyota Nobunaga, son and chosen heir of the Count de Sable of the Ruby Sands." Son of the sands, was he? So that explained his angry disposition. And the earlier tone; he was of noble lineage. "If you have anything against me, it is death by slow torture to lay hands on any noble who has a holding on the Buried Crescent!" Milk White ignored him, and that made him more furious.

"Sendoh Akira, sixth son of the Former Rose Princess. I was also a Captain of the Knights of Heaven, before I retired to become a High Hunter. From the Realm of the Topaz Fields, of course."

And at that statement, Milk White nearly fell out of his seat. Topaz Fields.

He stared at them in shock, so much so that Noisy … Viscount Nobunaga … scowled at him. Surely, he would have complained if not his Master, the Blacksmith, cut him off with a gesture. They were all noblemen, dammit. All of them were not only aristocrats, but were royalty, in their lands. And one of them, the most irritating man he had ever met (except for Noisy), was actually his uncle.

He cleared his throat and emptied his thoughts. A deal was a deal, after all. "Kaede, son of Hisashi. Crown Prince and Rose Princess of the Realm of Topaz Fields and temporary Potentate of the Crystal Valleys."

A profound silence fell and held until one of them laughed.

It was the High Hunter, and his chuckles were jubilant. "Oh, I should have known! Fuck me, I should have known! Hisashi's son, hell, he'd always been aptly named, I do say so myself … Crown Prince and Rose Princess, eh? Hisashi's not only naughty, he's also nuts!"

Rukawa blinked at that. These people knew his father; in fact, it seemed as if they were all good friends. Is that why Captain Koshino sent him here? But Fuuji – he would not call her Queen – was a loyal retainer of the late Prince-Consort Kiminobu, from what he gathered. At that, he recalled himself, along with a not-so-healthy amount of suspicion. "And what proof do you offer me?"

He thought that the first to object would be Noisy. He was wrong. So when Pretty pursed his lips, about to open his mouth to speak in his defense, the amount of offense he took made Milk White almost, but not quite, guilty.

Without further ado, Fujima untied the scarf that hid his neck, uncovering the shining torque he wore. It was made of delicate gold filigree, and caught within it were diamonds. The Crown Prince doubted very much if any other than the Ruling House of Diamond Mountains would have dared wear the torque. He nodded once, to show his acceptance.

Hanagata gave a grim smile as he bared his chest. The two garnet pendants, one the Navigator's Star, the other an anchor, swayed, gathering and reflecting light. In spite of himself, Kaede winced, and Sendoh laughed at him. Rukawa glared spitefully.

The High Hunter moved to poke at the pendant to make it swing on its hook. The Crown Prince flinched, and snarled wordlessly at him. Wise gave the blue-eyed warrior a long-suffering sigh and began to demurely button up.

Maki opened his shirt, standing up as he fiddled with his girdle of thinly braided gold. From it hung about several dozen small chips of emeralds. The High Blacksmith had attached the whole contraption on an elaborate lattice of gilded accessory studded on his navel. Milk White grimaced; the chain must have pulled with every breath, just like the High Lord's. How could he bear that; the Duke had to wear the accoutrements always. To think that he possessed about forty Seals of emeralds …

Jin lifted his robes. Rukawa stared at the intricate twining mithril around Pretty's ankles and upper arms, opals embedded in the knots. Master workmanship demanded that it would not hinder the normal function of the adorned body parts, and serve as lightweight armor. He knew that if the High Mage ever sits on the Throne, his whole body would be treated likewise.

"I shouldn't have mutilated it, but I had no choice," the High Rogue was saying sheepishly, as he added the missing pieces of his earring on his sapphire stud. How could Rukawa been so stupid? When he stared at the token, now ringed with amethyst and aquamarine.

Noisy took off his bandana, and Milk White saw the need for such. A simple golden circlet graced the Viscount's forehead, accentuated with crescent rubies. Rukawa wondered at the ensorcelled band, which the High Swordsman had worn since birth. He knew it was something like Jin's mithril accessories, like his own markings, adapting with the changes in his body, so that it the lines and ink only required annual maintenance.

Kiyota lifted a finger to trace the cool metal, ghosting a hand over his face. "The first part of my training is to be used to the absence of my veil, you know." Everyone wore shrouds in the Ruby Sands; linen of varying quality for commoners, lace for nobility, silk for royalty.

And that only left his uncle, who was smiling at him. "You know how we bear our proofs in our Land, of course?" Milk White nodded, and waited.

Sendoh stood up; he had anticipated this, or else, he wouldn't be wearing robes. He shed the whole thing off and turned his back on the Crown Prince; he was not wearing any undergarments. After a few moments, he said, "Satisfied, Kaede-sama?"

The twining band of limned flowers proclaimed his ancestry, at the base of his back. The two cherry trees framing the Gates of Heaven was barred with a sword, and from the hilt, feathery black wings emerged. Briar bearing six blooms edged the blade on one side, dripping blood. Captain and son of the former Rose Princess; Kaede still could not believe that the man was his uncle. Sendoh shrugged on the robe and sat down.

Seven pairs of eyes waited.

As the Hunter had done, Rukawa stripped his robe off, baring his whole back at them. Someone hissed. They may have no doubts that he was the veritable Rose Princess and Crown Prince, and seeing his tattoo would only strengthen that.

The garland that adorned him, consisting mostly of an assortment of roses, orchids and gentian, rode low on his hips. The Gates of Heaven image, unlike Sendoh's, was not barred. Instead, there was a single-stemmed rose in full bloom, tipped with a single cherry blossom, twined around a coronet. The tattoo, except for the trees, the garland, and Gates of Heaven, was done in black, lacking the pigments that would have come with the Throne.

After a seemly amount of time, the Crown Prince primly donned his clothing and sat down. Utter alarm marred the Monk's smooth forehead. An infinitesimal satisfaction made itself known as he recognized the source of Hanagata's discomfort. The others have inconsequential reactions, so those, he ignored. The only important thing was for them to recognize his claim, and that had been done.

It was Sendoh who spoke first. "Interesting. It's the only one of its kind, isn't it, since you're the only one who was named both Rose Princess and Crown Prince. Hisashi must have been insane." His uncle, it seemed, could not be put off from mischief, as he added, "Don't worry, Hanagata-san. Kaede's tattoos are more than usual, but hey. The needles used to limn our credentials and heritage actually felt good." He smiled wider, if possible. "I'm sure it's just as fun to …" Sendoh gestured towards the High Monk's chest, and gave a nod towards the Blacksmith. "Wear your tokens of birthright."

Sendoh enjoyed getting his tattoos? True, there were some who see them more as a pleasure than obligation, and it did not totally shock him to know that the Hunter was one of them. As for himself, he slept through the whole process; even the sharp sting of a hundred needles digging into his skin would not break the slumber brought by the heat and fumes of the limning-artists' chambers.

"Are you quite finished?" Fujima was asking in an icy tone. He had enough grace to hang his head, but Rukawa saw Sendoh hide a small smile. "We need to know one thing. Well, at least, above most, that is. Your …" he paused, hesitant, but his tone was firm. It was no less delicate for it. "Your mother …"

"Former Viscount Lord of Gentian Meadows, Kogure Kiminobu." Blue eyes dulled to lifeless indigo. "I was six when the plague took him."

"Ah, so Virtuous was successful," Wise shared a meaningful look with Beauty. "The secret was unveiled." He turned to the desolate Prince. "My condolences, child. We did not know."

"I do not think Virtuous-san was completely triumphant in working out the secret," Pretty observed, a finger on his lips. "For how do we account for the plague that took him? Even if it took about five years or so." He shook his head. "He have not equated the power; the balance was upset." At the look Sendoh shot him, he added, "Probably."

"And this secret?" Rukawa looked at them. "How does it concern me?"

"High Dancer Virtuous – or Viscount Kogure, as they know him in his Land – was your mother, correct?" Maki pointed out. "But he is innately male. He had managed to work out the sorcery concerning the finer workings of the flesh, to alter his body …"

"Before you get technical," the Hunter cut in. The Duke acquiesced gracefully, and he continued. "Changing one's body in the extremities and illusion are different from what your 'mother' did. To put it simply, my dear nephew, Virtuous became TRULY a woman, even internally is my meaning, through magic, which had not been accomplished by anyone else. Ever." He held his wrist aloft, and his hawk perched on his arm. His blue eyes were pensive as he stroked the feathers of his preening Companion. "We have been researching it, you know. One left us because he thought the world sheltered the secret." For some reason, Sendoh was deliberately not looking at the High Mage.

The implication of the secret they were searching for finally reconciled itself with the Crown Prince. That still wouldn't explain why Fujima wanted … unless of course, he and the High Lord was an item. Which was already kind of obvious. "And what is it about Slowing and Spirit?"

Kiyota shrugged. "Slowing means that you slow to age physically. It's dependent on how much Spirit you have, and how much you can control at a draw."

"Spirit," Hanagata continued, before Rukawa could formulate a question, "is present in every one of us, aristocrat or no. The smallest amount of spirit allows a soul to dwell in the body. A moderate amount allows a body to survive without a soul for a certain amount of time. A little more would allow a person to talk to … well, spirits."

Beauty now took up the lecture. "And a lot more makes one acutely aware of the world, and so, the Goddess, the Lady of the Hearth, calls upon those people to serve her and the world." His gesture took in the other six. "As we do. Only those possessing enough Spirit can be privy to jobs wherein we could assist the Goddess."

"And you, beautiful boy," Sendoh put in, beaming at him proudly, "have an enormous amount of Spirit at your disposal, and have not begun to Slow, which portends that you are very strong. Stronger than we expected." He glanced at the others, and in a stage whisper, added, "Stronger than us, even, but don't let that get into your head."

"Raw power is different from years of honed experience, Sendoh-san," Jin shook his head in disapproval. "Though it matters in prolonged skirmishes, somewhat," he grudgingly admitted. "Not much."

"You all Slowed?" The query seemed stupid and childish to his ears.

"Aren't you taught history, Kaede, or were you sleeping then, hmm?" the High Hunter chided. "Reckon. I told you that I was the sixth son of the former Rose Princess, who happens to be your father's aunt. How old would that make me, as close an approximation as you could?"

The look Milk White gave his uncle was flinty at best. "Thirty-seven, more or less."

Sendoh beamed. "Near enough. I'll be nine and thirty in my next naming day." Fujima rolled his eyes, mouthing the words "How vain could you get" to no one in particular.

"Does he look like that age to you?" Kiyota asked derisively.

Rukawa, refusing to be baited, did not answer. Instead, he turned to the assembly. "Is there anything else you think I should know?" The High Swordsman longed to call him down for his impertinence, but he was the Crown Prince of Topaz, therefore, higher in rank than him, after all.

"Manners, for one." Kiyota stifled his glee as his Master spoke. "Along with my Apprentice, here." That made him scowl, and Maki patted him on the head as he would an irascible pet that amused him. "For another, your parents history among us."

"Finally, you must be taught suitably, as one with similar talents would have been." Hanagata put in. And as an afterthought, "I hope that you trust us enough to tell us of your tale?"

The Rose Princess assented graciously. "As you wish. My mother was taken from us by a plague twelve years ago. I scarcely remember anything but the screams." He paused for breath; the Viscount wondered how difficult for Kaede speaking was, while he himself could not keep silent most of the time. "His body was preserved in an ice mausoleum. After a few years or so, Father married Baroness Fuuji. She was behind the assassination attempts against me, for no reason other than I am my parents' son, I suppose. So, I escaped."

"Mage Shy, hmmm?" At the confused look, Beauty elucidated. "Baroness Fuuji. She was one of Kogure's close friends, though she didn't train with us. Poor girl. She hadn't the aptitude to progress any further than Low Mage, so when Viscountess Kogure decreed her son to expand his learning, Fuuji did not accompany him." He frowned thoughtfully. "She's not evil, not the slightest, nor is she ambitious. A fault, really, but at least … well, anyway, from what I've seen, Naughty is not her type, if it's only about love and all. So this doesn't make sense. And, more intriguing, is that there had been no mention of High Knight Spiky, Naughty's Protector. Hasegawa Kazushi." At Rukawa's blanker than usual look, Fujima nodded. "See? I was right; you don't know Kazushi, which makes this whole affair … in a term, mystifying."

Miyagi nodded empathically. "Tell me about it. That one would follow Creaky Knees to hell and back, and back again."

Creaky Knees, from the sound of it, Rukawa reckoned, pertains to his father, King Hisashi.

"Or of Naughty's other Protector, Koshino Hiroaki. High Crusader Cross." Maki glanced sidelong at the suddenly silent High Hunter. "They trained with us here, along with Hisashi. Though, for a surety, Hasegawa didn't know that Koshino was a Protector of Hisashi. Nonetheless, they would side with you, undoubtedly, as they have served the King."

Somewhat startled, Rukawa blinked rapidly. "Captain Koshino of the Knights of Heaven? He was the one who told me to come to you." He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't know that he was Father's Protector."

"True, we do not mean you any harm, even if we didn't know who you were," Jin was saying when Sendoh cut in. "Neither did we, Kaede. Not until they have been with us for three years. Not until Hisashi himself told us." The High Hunter challenged the others with a pained look. "Just tell him."

Rukawa stared at them, until Miyagi spoke, relenting. "King Hisashi's mother, his father's third cousin, as you well know, had an older sister. Unbeknownst to many, she was not actually childless as the Royal Family professed her to be. Before she tied the knot with the Count of Daffodil, a few years after your father was born, she had a bastard son by a younger cousin. Hiroaki. It, of course, portended not only a scandal, but a threat, so he was raised among the warrior class, the Protectors, bound to serve their Lord loyally."

"But his identity remains a beacon to the enemies, as you can very well imagine, with him being the closest, most tractable possible claimant to the Throne," Maki continued, a wry twist to his words. "With an emphasis to 'tractable'. The King starting to decline, the Queen long dead, the Crown Prince barely of age, and the Rose Princess a bedridden old lady; begging your pardon," the last words were spoken to the Hunter. Sendoh shrugged amiably, and waved for him to go on. "The only reason that a revolt was pointless was because the people are too satisfied with what they have."

"Which makes Hiroaki an important pawn in the game, and mainly why those faithful to the Throne have to, if necessary, forge his loyalty to Hisashi," the High Rogue prompted, trying to get back to the point. When Maki did not take the hint, he continued. "He was ambitious, he was brilliant. He should have been the perfect candidate for a usurper; but he has a high sense of morality and duty, Cross does. But what you can't take, you have to destroy, correct?"

"Hiroaki was not known as Crown Prince Hisashi's cousin, or his Protector. He was the King's Huntsman, sent with Hisashi to train by the virtue of his Spirit." Hanagata dutifully continued the telling. "And here, the Crown Prince met Viscount Kiminobu, already High Archer then. One can say that it was here where they 'fell in love'." He smiled at the current Crown Prince fondly. "Though I recall that Kiminobu tried his damnedest to resist."

Jin laughed outright. "It was a week before my Low Wizard Test. When he learned that Low Bard Naughty was not just any ordinary noble, but the Crown Prince of Topaz, he freaked out. Totally. He near fainted, packed his bags, and left without any warning."

"When Naughty heard of it, he laughed his ass off." Fujima shrugged. "I personally thought he was crazy. He laughed himself to tears and I thought he was going to choke to death or something …"

"And when Virtuous came back, a few days later, he was calm and composed," the Duke told Kaede. "He demanded, politely, for Hisashi to come down and please explain himself immediately. Hisashi did, and he was crying, and he said, 'Min-kun, I missed you, damn it.' And Kiminobu was just … staring at him as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. Then, he opened his arms, and the rest, as they say, is history."

The Hunter shook his head. "I've heard about the stories that proliferated about your parents, kid." Sendoh snorted in disdain, which ruffled the feathers of his hawk. "It's nothing next to the real thing; with your father sobbing, Virtuous not keeping up to his nickname and them almost getting it on in the living room. We still have the video of that thing, I think." Azure eyes seemed startled when Maki cleared his throat, carefully not looking at the blushing Milk White. "Yes. Well. As I was saying … don't believe the 'six-month courtship' thing or any of it. And don't believe that all Hisashi wanted was an legitimate heir, or that that was the reason why they had to work out the secret."

Rukawa nodded, his blushes now at bay. Of course. Everything made sense. Almost. The only thing left that bothered him was, since his fathers truly loved each other from their accounts, why did the King remarry to Baroness Fuuji, when nothing would be achieved from their union? There were no lands to placate, no tribes to unite, no rioting factions. Unless he wanted another heir? But he had already named his son Rose Princess and Crown Prince, so there really is no point. Though it certainly boosted the morale of the populace, the masses were now suffering with the Queen's neglect and the King's frequent absences to colonize more land.

As if reading his mind, the High Seat of Fujima spoke up. "Kaede. You can't change anything at your present condition. Facing Low Mage Shy is out of the question. You need to gather your wits and your strengths. You need to understand the nature of the problem, so to speak, before you tackle it." He smiled. "High Crusader Cross sent you to us for your safety. And that, we will provide."

"You know what to do." Ryouta pushed a sheet of paper across the table, handing Milk White the pencil. "Take the test, kid. We'll support you all the way."

Seven pairs of eyes regarded him seriously. "Good luck."

"I don't need to know every tiny detail of your sordid sex life!" Halfway through the sentence, the King's Protector, Hiroaki, stifled his screech to a venomous hiss. The glare he gave his cousin was fatal.

Hisashi gave his cousin a patient look, which made the other, he knew, even more irritated than before. "Actually, Kosh, you do. Because as long as you keep Fuuji delirious with pleasure," the King punctuated his words with a suggestive smile and a vulgar hand gesture Hiroaki did not even know existed, but at once recognized for what it symbolized, "she'd forget about my son." His dark blue eyes turned steely. "Which I trust is in good hands, hmmm?"

"Unless you think there are better live hands (other than yours and mine) than those of your cousin's from the other branch," Koshino retorted.

"Ah. Of course not." Mitsui's expression softened. "You miss Akira, don't you?"

"What!" His scowl was firstly, because of the comment, secondly because of the volume his voice reached. "Why would I miss that asshole? He's even more perverted than you are, and that's saying something, your Majesty."

"Yes, I know." Mitsui grinned wolfishly. "You miss Akira because he is an asshole, and because he's more perverted than I am. And you love him in spite of those, among other things." He only laughed at the indignant spluttering that incited. "Don't bother denying it, Kosh. That's an order from your King."

"Actually," Koshino muttered as his cousin prodded him to the mirror, "I'm your King now, you depraved sod."

Turning a critical eye on his cousin's bared back, he reached for his guitar, cheerfully ignoring all other unconstructive comments. "Kosh, I need to redo the markings on you back. I mean, my back. Hell, you know what I mean. Just come here, and no complaining."

Acquiescing with ill grace, the Crusader lay on his stomach obediently enough to suit the King, who played several chords as he hummed. The Royal Tattoos were vivid against the clean slate of Koshino's back. After a while, he stepped back admiringly, whistling. "I am so sexy!" Mitsui crowed softly to his guitar.

"Not to mention vain," Koshino added, sitting up, and making a face. Hisashi shook an admonishing finger at his cousin, who just stared at him bemusedly. "What!"

"Don't frown! It makes me look my actual age." And just to spite him, the Protector did the exact opposite. "Kosh! I order you as your King to stop frowning!"

"Dare you give me orders?" Koshino scowled ferociously, looking older than one and forty, the King's true age. A feat, considering that his cousin's physical body was only twenty summers old. "I am the King now, and I can frown as much as I please, supplicant."

"KOSH!" Hisashi protested.

Laughing himself sick, the Crusader watched them both at the mirror, mirth slowly subsiding. "Hisashi … where are you going, really?" Hiroaki looked away from his reflection, the borrowed face of the King set in a thoughtful mien. "I'm supposed to protect ..."

"Even you agreed that it would be wiser to keep my destination to myself," Hisashi grinned, tying the considerable length of his hair into a ponytail, grown by the Spirit at an unnaturally fast pace and not illusion. "Come on, cousin. I'm still a High Bard, after all. I can protect myself … as long as nobody knows that I'm no longer enchanted." He glanced at the window; dawn was nigh. "I'd better go, then. How long can you keep up the pretence, hmm?"

The King's Protector eyed the scepter he held, cold to touch, and the simple gold diadem, light upon his brow, heavy on his soul. "As long as I need to."

"I expected no less." Hisashi nodded, singing softly to himself. As he did, the long black air turned wheat-gold, his eyes lightening to sky-blue, tanned skin becoming fair. Only minor alterations, but then, no one would be looking for the King of Topaz in the guest bedrooms, seeking an audience with the sitting monarch, especially when the said King was supposedly marching off to war. "What do you think?"

His cousin's tone was wry. "You still sound like yourself, High Bard Hisashi, though you look like someone's gaijin cousin."

The stranger's face frowned, tongue clicking. "I'm not a High Bard, and my name is not Hisashi." There was a distinct twang in his inflections, which marked him, if not gaijin, raised around gaijin. "I'm an Agent of one of Hisashi's former maestros, here to seek an audience because of an upcoming naming-day of the aforementioned maestro. And when I learn that the King is off to yet another conquest and would not return for several months or so, I will leave immediately." He smiled, taking pity on the stressed out Protector. "For the Jade Forests. I heard that the descendants of the Fox Doctor could heal ailments of the Spirit, and finally rid me of this stupid spell."

"Thank you." There were many holes on that story, but it would serve. "Why couldn't you have taken your Demon Gambler disguise instead? Or the Fire Ninja; no one would dare question that one, I think. Oh, well. Whatever floats your boat." Hiroaki rolled his eyes. His expression grew grave. "Kaede, though …"

"Not yet." The King smiled, tweaking his cousin's nose. "About my sordid sex life, as you put it, as long as you practice tying a knot on a cherry stem, you'd be fine. Oh, and before I forget, don't spit; swallow. Splatter, too."

"I will pretend that did NOT hear that last part." He batted his cousin hands away sullenly. "As for the dexterity of my tongue, Akira made me do the cherry stem-thing every day until I learnt it; I haven't lost the trick of it." He placed his hands on his hips, scowling. "It's not funny, Hisashi, stop laughing. And before you even think it, don't tell me I'm a worrywart or I'll kick your bloody behind!"

"I'm not saying it." Mitsui smiled, shaking his head. "But, you do worry too much, Crusader Kosh. I'd worry more about you – I mean, me – than I do about me – I mean … yeah, me. What? Even I got confused." He moved closer, leaning forward in an air of conspiracy. "By the way, I haven't had a bloody behind in twelve years." Hisashi was cackling evilly when Koshino socked him squarely on the stomach. He doubled over, winded. The High Crusader, half-smug and half-guilty, helped him regain his feet.

"You were supposed to dodge it, you idiot!" he murmured. "Oh, stop laughing, Hisashi, or I'll do it again. Anyway, it's almost dawn."

"Give me a hug for Akira, Kosh." The High Crusader acquiesced, the matter too intense for words. "Be safe."

With that, he pulled the tapestry, revealing a hidden passage to one of the guest chambers, aware of the heavy disapproval from his cousin with every jaunty step.

THERE was an insistent knocking on the bolted oaken doors.

Blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, Rukawa looked away from the potion he was brewing, irritated. Two months, give or take several days, had passed since he had the "heart-to-heart" talk with the Seven Thingamajiggers, the thought of which never failed to make him wince mentally. Past is past, though, and with intense and almost obsessive training after that, he was nearly upon his Average Novice Test.

His housemates were all elated with his progress, of course. Though his training was not one of the fastest ever in recorded history, it was rapid enough to cause comment, bearing his situation in mind. Add to that that he was learning the fundamental Skills of other Jobs. Of course he would never be able to forge or perform magic. But appending what he had learned as a Prince to his training now, he was going to be a formidable Assassin. Once he passed the test, anyway, which would not be the case if he had to answer the bloody door every time someone knocks.

"I'll get it," Sendoh stood up, giving the wolf a pat, smiling at the toiling Low Thief who glared at him.

He opened the door, and blinked at the apparition. "Lascivious-san? And Courteous-san? Dozo. What happened?" He muttered a few choice curses. "This is bad. I don't know anything of Curing besides the rudiments, but I …"

"There's nothing you can do, Smiley." Milk White spared the brazen one a glance, mentally applauding. The speaker was standing with his back to him, but by the shade of red of the long hair, a deep burgundy, Milk White would bet his coronet that the guy was half-human and half-demon. "It's with the Spirit." He managed a weak chuckle. "I'd bet even the descendants of the Fox Doctor are in the same state as we are."

Lascivious, was he? The Prince wondered faintly about the nickname, and decided that the world would be better off with him paying more attention to his studies than anything else at the moment.

"What, as if we were hung-over?" The other one, Courteous, was leaning on the wall to stay upright. Rukawa scowled, and so did the redhead, but for different reasons; the green-eyed brunette with Lascivious was a human-demon. There were ki regulators on his ear. "Though I have to admit I haven't been drunk ever in my life. Anyway, Simple is far worse, Shishou."

Why was he calling Sendoh 'master'? Maybe it's a private joke. Milk White doubted if another drop of sweat would make a difference in his already ruined Remedy, but he turned his attention back to the gurgling cauldron.

Lascivious snorted as he helped his companion on the couch. "Of course Impertinent-houshi-sama would have driven on without a backward glance to us if we all dropped dead, and I wouldn't blame that bitchy Monk, but even our Dragon-chan is out of it, and he didn't want to walk the rest of the way."

"Can't play mahjong on your own, too," Smiley added with a wink. "Ne?'

Oh, who cares about them anyway? The Prince doused the fire, transferring the clear liquid to phials. He'd need them for the Test tomorrow. "Well, do you have any idea of what happened?"

The redhead exchanged a meaningful look with Courteous and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as ours. Though I think it had something to do with the Legend of the Chosen of the Fire Phoenix."

"My Master told me that was just myth, nothing more." But it was more of a weak statement, as if Sendoh knew that it wouldn't matter. Apparently, he was right.

Milk White saw that Lascivious was appraising him. He returned the gesture. Yes, a half-demon, half-human, with the same burgundy shade on his irises as his hair. There were two thin scars just below his left eye, paler than his bronze skin.

The High Hunter shook his head at the sight of Rukawa's scowl. "I know how bitable you are, Rukawa-kun; don't worry, they're not our enemies. As for you, my dear Lascivious, my nephew can hear anything you have to say. Out with it, bishounen."

The redhead blinked, then laughed. Courteous placed a hand over his eyes. "Smiley-san, now you've done it. You shouldn't have appealed to his vanity."

"Well, what would you have me do?" the High Hunter shook his head.

Milk White spared an impassive glance at the scene, and returned to his work silently. Sendoh, noting his nephew's apathy, shrugged; as if to say, he couldn't have done anything about it.

"You've experienced worse, I reckon. You'll live." He then proffered a bottle to their guests. "Saké?"

"Domo." The brunette sighed in gratitude. "Yes, that's true. It's a blessing that we can still move. I shudder to think on what Impertinent would do if this goes on longer than the decreed length of time."

"Can't do anything about it, so just ignore it." The redhead tipped a cigarette on his lip, every motion grating him, and glanced at Milk White, who gave him permission by ignoring him, concentrating on sifting the non-incendiary crystals. Sendoh lit the end of the cigarette. Lascivious laughed. "You and that bitchy Monk would get along just perfectly, kid. Oi, Bajie, best you tell it."

Rukawa frowned, but not because of the degenerative term, capping the phial where he stored his powdered antidote. He was sure he heard that name somewhere. "Remember the Chosen of the Fire Phoenix? The two that paired up."

Sendoh made a face. "The Traveling Monk and the Phantom Bandit?"

"Those were the two who survived," Milk White muttered under his breath. "Ahou."

"Not quite, Smiley." Lascivious, who heard the Crown Prince's comment, snickered. "Though they did end up together."

"Hn." Sendoh frowned thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, I remember. The Vain Emperor and the Willful Courtesan." He raised his eyebrows. "I thought it was only Ryouta who conjured that, with Toru and Soi-kun, too. Anyway, before any of them intervened, I was under the impression that the Emperor and the Courtesan had a one-way relationship."

Milk White, if he were the type, would have grunted, as he set out his store of poisons for inventory.

The redhead snorted a fine trail of smoke. "Is that what they teach in this country?"

He shook his head. "No, but that's what my Master taught me. He was a secluded boor, bless his evil heart for it. Never mind. Anyway, even if what you say is true, which I believe it is, they never got together, right? Because when the Willful Courtesan was killed, the Vain Emperor married, had a son, and died shortly after. The Dowager Empress ruled the country in her son's stead."

Milk White perked up at that. It was said that Topaz Fields and Jade Forests was once known as the southern country blessed by the Fire Phoenix, though the Dowager Empress was not his ancestor.

"Yes and no. Or should I say, 'that's all true, but there's something more to it'?" Bajie sipped his tea. "The contemporary story never told us how the Dowager Empress came to be. The Appendices tell us that she and the Vain Emperor have known each other as much as two years before the appearance of the Maiden, which is illogical –"

"And bullshit." Sendoh raised his eyebrows. "I know you won't use such a crude word, Bajie, but it's the most accurate term for it, after all. My Master might have misinformed me, but try living with Miyagi for three years." He shuddered. "Or Soichirou. They still have occasional shouting matches against Shin'ichi on that subject." Sendoh made a wave with one hand. "Well, carry on."

"True," Courteous agreed. "Anyway, the point is that the Dowager Empress is a body made to house the soul of the Willful Courtesan's younger sister. A body, they say, wrought by the Fox God, Inari. It was, of course, done without the knowledge of the Fire Phoenix, and it thwarted the plans of the Water Dragon."

The redhead gestured with his cup, a slight jerk; the pain must be nigh unbearable, but he didn't let it show. "Inari and the other gods were supposed to be neutral, when the circumstances were in the Universe of the Four Gods; so that no god would be intervening where he's not supposed to. So when the Blue Dragon pleaded for justice, it was granted to him."

"Reincarnation," the brunette continued, shrugging. "Of a sort. It was the Inari's descendants who were punished, for they knew of Inari's plan, and condoned it."

"Hmmm." In spite of himself, Sendoh's curiosity was piqued. "They all would be intrigued by this for sure, even Shin'ichi, I daresay. What manner of reincarnation would that be, anyway?"

"Nine cycles of the story of the Vain Emperor and the Willful Courtesan, writ by other hands, with the fox spirit bound to the role of the Willful Courtesan, though ignorant of its purpose. If they fail, perdition for all of Inari's line. Or so it is said." Courteous smiled. "A good tale, yes? But I have read of other good tales which support this legend."

"One of which," Lascivious punctuated with his cigarette stub, "is that when the fox-spirit component awakens, and is made aware that it IS a fox spirit, demons of all kinds suffer for a moon cycle."

"Harsh," the High Hunter commented, "to think that all demons suffer for a single god's folly. Though, from what I conclude, it's not only a tale, but truth."

"Another 'good tale'," the redhead nodded to his friend, "I've heard is that when a human kills a thousand demons, he will become a demon himself."

"Also, that an offspring of a pure demon and a pure human would have eyes and tresses the color of sunset, awash in blood." Courteous raised his eyebrows. "Do you doubt it?"

"No," Sendoh said wryly, with a dry look at the two. "Of course not." He stood up. "That means you have to pause your journey for a while, am I right, gentlemen?" He laughed. "I could just imagine the ruckus Sanzang made. Miyagi will be passing glad to see you; he –"

"Kazushi!"

It took a while for Milk White to recognize the voice, and when he did, he frowned. What's up with Fujima, shouting like that? And Kazushi … wasn't Kazushi his father's protector? It seemed as if he had heard that name from somewhere … he was a High Knight, so it would be logical if he became a Knight of Heaven. But what was he doing here?

Kiyota entered the room at dead run, almost upsetting Rukawa's Assassin paraphernalia. "Sendoh-san! It's Hasegawa-san!" He leaned on his knees, hunched over as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked confusedly at the sight of the guests, but regained his composure instantly. "Bajie-san, Wujing-san, an honor to meet you at last."

Lascivious, who must have been Wujing, along with Courteous, murmured the appropriate response. The brunette added, "Nobunaga-kun, what was that about? Is Kazushi here?" He exchanged a meaningful look with the redhead. "Shouldn't he be with Naughty? I heard that Topaz is marching to war beyond this continent."

My father wouldn't do that, Milk White thought automatically, discretion making him silent. For some reason he could not fathom, he looked at the drained visitors on the sofa. He did not notice Sendoh and Kiyota conversing in hushed tones on the corner, with the High Hunter gesturing furiously.

The redhead's face was set in a grimace. "There's something wrong."

"A demonic ki, not a human one, wasn't it?" Bajie said, turning with a sharp glance at Rukawa. "Hide, Prince." Kaede remained where he was. "Run!"

But Rukawa couldn't move. Sendoh, flanked now by the wolf, grasped his upper arm and hauled him up and away, past the grim High Swordsman, who edged toward the door. With a colorful string of expletives, he turned the knob.

"Crown Prince Kaede!" The shout was made by a voice Kaede did not know. A man stepped in the house, looking about, spotting the High Hunter, who was standing next to the hidden Rose Princess.

"Kazushi! What happened?" Sendoh walked towards the man, drawing his attention away from Kiyota, who slipped away to call for reinforcements. Cold sticky sweat trickled down the side of Kaede's face as he listened intently to the telltale sounds of people walking.

"Akira, well met." They clasped hands. "It's been a long time."

"Kazushi, likewise. What brings you here?"

Silence stretched unbearably. It seemed a long time had passed, when his rational thought knew that it was mere seconds.

"I come with bad news, I fear. Hisashi is dead, Akira." Hasegawa was saying as the High Hunter approached him slowly. "And so is Hiroaki." Lascivious and Courteous lay immobile on the sofa, unheeded. The High Swordsman, it seemed, was taking his sweet damn time. Milk White mentally cursed him.

Sendoh, predictably, was stopped in his tracks. "Hiroaki? Dead? How?"

"He was judged guilty of treason for killing the King." The High Knight shook his head. "I'm sorry, Akira. I know you wouldn't want to believe me, but it's true. It broke my heart, truly. The Princess-Consort – the Queen, now – would step down in favor of Prince Kaede, and sent me to look for him. I need to talk to the Crown Prince, but not only because I speak in the behalf of the current Regent. I think Hisashi would like that, to let Prince Kaede pay his respects before the burial, and take the mantle of responsibility as soon as possible."

Knowing that the Hasegawa was lying – he should be lying! – Rukawa dared a peek, deep blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

It was someone he remembered, if faintly, from years back. The Prince-Consort's delighted smile, the King's laugh, and the figure that stood guarding both, wearing the face of the man talking to his uncle.

The man, if he recalled correctly, who had died when the plague that took his 'mother' swept their land; Hasegawa Kazushi, the former Captain of the Knights of Heaven, his father's Protector.

The image wavered; a smoke-filled shadow. Sendoh a boneless heap with staring eyes, was lifeless before his feet. "Enough games."

Too fast for him to follow, too sudden for anyone to react, the High Knight threw his dagger point blank between Kaede's eyes. A clink of metal against metal; reflex made him duck. A silvery haze from the dagger penetrated the energy barrier shielding him. Off-target, it grazed Rukawa's temple.

Of Hasegawa, there was no trace.

Cursing, Lascivious went, retracing Kiyota's steps, not wasting grunts and whines on his agony. As Milk White lay on the floor, insensible, Bajie fought the torment of moving and tried to reach him, and heal him with his ki.

There were two others who arrived at the Prince's side before he did. One was dressed in dark blue, laden with prayer-seals; the other was in simple robes of a Sage. "Akira," the Sage (of undeterminable caste) called to the unconscious High Hunter, "Come back. Don't bother chasing him." When there was no response, he clucked his tongue, and addressed his companion. "Star Seeker, the sixth channel on Akira's neck, please."

"Sensitive, Smiley won't like it," Star Seeker said, but he was already moving towards Sendoh. Before he could turn him over, however, the High Hunter came to, gasping for breath.

By this time, Bajie was beside Rukawa, had remembered that the Sage was Marquis Fukuda Kiccho of Opal Marshes, and was helping the aforementioned noble to restore Kaede's awareness. He shook his head. "It's of the Spirit. I can't siphon it without damaging –"

"Courteous-san, you're going to be obstinate about this, too, wouldn't you?" Sensitive asked rhetorically. "Well, never mind that. No, we'll just tie it off for a while, and put a block …" he trailed off, and saw that Sendoh was again trying to enter a trance, to search for the treacherous Hasegawa's spirit. "Akira, stop being stubborn; you won't be able to find Hasegawa, so don't waste your strength, or I'll sit on you. Call them."

"No need." Hanagata was carrying Fujima in his arms, looking worse for wear, while Kiyota and Maki were keeping each other up. Miyagi was propped up by Lascivious, and Jin has an arm on Moon Flower's shoulder. "How is he?"

"He'll live," Sensitive answered shortly, as the High Monk joined in the healing, with the High Wizard and High Mage. "At this rate, he'll reach the critical point after ten days. After that …"

"We need an Alchemist. Aya-chan … she can help," Miyagi said as he helped the furious High Hunter to his feet. "We have to leave this place." He turned to Lascivious and Courteous. "I'm sorry for this …"

The redhead shook his head. "Never mind. Make the preparations. We'll stay with Rukawa, until you can find a place where to hide him."

"Right under their noses," came a weak suggestion, from the bundle of dissatisfaction in the High Monk's arms. Fujima kicked feebly. "Let me speak, Toru. Please," this time, directing it to Lascivious and Courteous, "we could take up other identities that we have established as a prudent groundwork for us, in Topaz Fields itself." No one argued. Other than the fact that they looked as if all heart were beaten out of them, it was a good idea as any. "Are there no objections?" Only Kiyota bothered to mouth the, "No" at all.

"Adjourned." The crisp tone belied the near-collapse of the High Blacksmith as he inched his way to his room, exhausted. Maki staggered, and the High Swordsman faltered under the dead weight of his body.

Sparing a disgusted look at them, Fukuda bid Moon Flower to attend to them while he administered to Kaede's well being. When he himself was offered respite, he declined, and meticulously persisted in nursing the Rose Princess.

"Fukky."

Sensitive woke with a jolt, for a moment out of sorts. He then remembered that he was in the Guild Chapter in Sapphire Islands, and that he had fallen asleep while watching over his wounded charge. Berating himself, he took stock of his surroundings.

Everyone had withdrawn; Rukawa lay on a pallet on the floor, swathed with blankets, with only the High Mage and High Sage for company. Bajie, sitting across the table from the lightly snoring Wujing, had he been awake, was still too far to hear anything.

"Fukky," Jin repeated, "It's been a long time."

"Seventeen years," Sensitive agreed, watching the steady movement of the Rose Princess's respiration. "I've missed you, Jin-jin."

The High Mage smiled wistfully, his gaze off to the dark huddled figures of their housemates, who opted to sleep on the den for the night. "Thank you. I needed to hear that." Carefully not looking at Fukuda, he spoke softly. "Ne … do you remember? You made me a promise."

"Yes. I haven't forgotten." At those words, the fingers that were patting at his dreadlocks stilled. "Jin-jin …"

"You're here." His breathing hitched. "You really are here, Fukky. Gods above, I had always …" Jin parted his lips, leaning towards the High Sage as he did, face tilted and eyes closed. He opened his mouth … and yawned.

Fukuda rolled his eyes at the inopportune timing. The world was, beyond doubt, cruel and unjust. "As soon as the danger passes, I'll tell you all of it."

Jin's blue eyes glittered. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then it wouldn't matter." He tried to smile, but it wasn't convincing enough. "Besides," Sensitive laced their fingers together, "we have now."

"Yes, we do." The High Mage couldn't refute that, and, eventually, fell asleep, head cradled in the High Sage's lap.

"HANAMICHI, your older brothers are …" the young demon trailed off as he saw what his friend was doing. "Are you insane! Hanamichi, our powers are deteriorating and yet you took ONE MORE patient?" He shook the redhead by the shoulders. "Why don't you just kill yourself swiftly and be done with it?"

Hanamichi shrugged his friend off, grinning. "Youhei, you actually let my older brothers use you as a messenger?" the jade beads in his long red locks tinkled sweetly as he shook his head. "Give me a moment to recover from shock."

Blue eyes flashed. "Very funny, Hanamichi." The enraged Youhei swept his hand across the laboratory, the soft glow of dimmed lights and the low hum of machinery. "If I have to remind you, these things feed off YOUR energy, and strongest Summoner or no, you're not God." He sighed. "And you're also not listening to me."

"Hmm?" Continuing his rounds, the redhead ignored his friend, who stalked after him. Hanamichi felt for his patient's vitality; satisfied, he smiled and moved on to the next tube. It contained a human. Brown eyes narrowed in concentration. It was the most recent of his patients, having arrived at the complex three days ago. Long blue-black tresses floated in the clear fluid, the electric blue eyes were half-mast, and wires twined around the immersed body, piercing Spirit channels. This one was corrupted … his mind was subverted and clouded. It would take some time, considering that he had others to attend to, not to mention the demands of his older brothers, and of his father.

He laid his hands on the glass, feeling the vital signs of the human through the liquid and crystal. Strong. The problem of the Spirit nagged him. Maybe if he used some of his Spirit to channel to the man and augment the passageways so that …

Hanamichi had quite forgotten that his friend was with him. Youhei gasped when he saw the human, and not because of the wires, the nakedness, or the mere presence of his patient. The blue-eyed demon shook the redhead, breaking his contact with the vessel.

"Hanamichi! Stop!" he almost shrieked. "That much Spirit is more than enough to kill a B-class demon, let alone a mere human. Are you insane? And in that rate, you are going to be drained of Spirit, your flesh will wither!" Youhei looked at the concerned brown eyes, and softened his tone, though his words were no less harsh than before. "Don't do it, Hanamichi. It's not worth it."

The Summoner bit his lip; resolve hardening as he gazed at his patient's relaxed visage in the vessel of fluid. "Maybe you're right, Youhei, you usually are. But," he laid his palms flat on the cool surface, "I know I can do this. I have a pride in my craft." He shrugged. "If I die, then so what? Father has other children."

Seeing that he could not be deterred, Youhei sighed, rolling his eyes. He couldn't help poking fun into his friend, for he said, "Are you so ready to die, Hanamichi? You haven't got laid yet."

Brown eyes blazed in righteous anger. "And what's that supposed to mean!"

"Exactly what it meant." His friend opened his hands, shrugging, offering a smile.

It took a while, but his wrath lapsed, and he only shook his head in disappointment. "There's nothing more to be accomplished here," he said, at once apologetic and defiant. "I'd keep him under observation for five days, then I can begin to work the problem out. I'd probably have to …" he spared Youhei the details, and instead, asked, "What did my brothers say?"

"They want you to go to Topaz, Hanamichi," he answered somberly, watching as perfect ire blanketed any other emotion. "Your father accedes."

"Why?"

Waves of Spirit buffeted Youhei; the redhead was doing it unknowing. "Because." He took a deep breath. "That was where the vortex of the Spirit-illness lay."

To be continued.

11:47 PM 11-10-2005

Author's Notes:

Gaijin – Foreigner

Dozo – Go ahead (or something to that extent.)

Ki – Energy

Shishou – Master

Houshi-sama – Lord Monk

Ne – Hey/Right

Bishounen – pretty boy

Saké – traditional Japanese rice wine

Domo – Thank you

Ahou – Stupid

Inari – God of fertility. The fox is sacred to him.

High Sage Sensitive – Fukuda Kiccho

Sanzang (Impertinent), Wujing (Lascivious) and Bajie (Courteous) are Sanzou, Gojyo and Hakkai, respectively. References of the insomnia thing with Maki and Sendoh are from Gensomaden Saiyuki's last episode, and therefore, along with those three and Simple (Goku), do not belong to me.

Moon Flower and Star Seeker are Kazuki and Juubei, respectively, from Get Backers. They are, respectively, a Sohee and a Bongun.

Mitsui's other 'disguises' are characters from other animé, who share the same voice actor: Tomoka of Shin Hakkenden (Demon Gambler), Kurei of Recca no Honou (Fire Ninja), and K of Gravitation (his final disguise).

The Fire Phoenix, the Water Dragon, and other references are from Fushigi Yuugi, which is, yet again, not mine.

My utmost gratitude to the people who were the motivation for this fic, and of course, to those who reviewed.