From Death To Life


It was dark. The kind of darkness that weighed down the limbs and slowed the mind. A thick, listless fog had at some point settled over him. His body was far too heavy to move; even lifting a single finger was beyond him. It felt as though all his bones had turned to glass, like he might shatter at the slightest touch.

And yet it also felt like he was being stitched back together, after being torn in pieces for so long. His mind, cocooned in lethargy as it was, was clearer than it had been in years.

Somewhere in the distance, through the dark fog settled over him like a thick winter quilt, came a guileless, cherubic voice.

"... tough place …. six years."

Words.

Voices.

Something in him stirred, pushing against the fog enveloping him, straining to reach those distant voices as his stirring mind connected the to the thought:

People.

There were people around him. People waiting for him. All this time.

I have to go back.

With one last push, the dim voices came into focus.

"… good to have him back, though," one was saying. The high, innocent voice. The voice of a child. And then…

"Yes."

A solid alto. A woman's voice, not too high and not low. Caring and steady and familiar.

I know that voice.

His eyelashes fluttered. The darkness broke.

"Taiho?"

Light flooded his eyes. He blinked against the sudden onslaught. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes anew. The blur of light and color condensed into a single, small face, eager and peering into his.

He blinked again.

Who…? he wondered in a daze, staring dazedly back at the little boy looking at him with shining eyes.

"Keikei, go tell King Kei."

Again, that voice…

He struggled to pull his thoughts together. He knew this voice. He knew he did.

The child's face disappeared. His still blurred gaze followed the small figure as it bounded over gleaming a marble floor towards a large door – traditionally wrought, heavy and ornate. Finest oak accentuated with gold plating fashioned into intricate, majestic designs.

He stared at that door. It was unfamiliar and not all at once.

… a palace door.

He'd seen so many like it, so long ago.

"Are you conscious, Taiho?" that achingly familiar voice asked.

A larger figure hovered over him and studied his face.

His wavering eyes focused on it. He blinked, as if perceiving a vision before him.

"You've come back. Do you understand?"

He stared at the tall, rugged woman leaning over him in astonishment. And then nodded.

"Risai?" he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

"Yes." Tears coursed down her cheeks as she drew him into an embrace. He willed his leaden, heavy arms to hug her back, and froze.

"Risai, your arm—"

"I lost it due to a bit of carelessness."

"Are you all right?"

"I've never been better."

She started to straighten herself, but his arms detained her. "Risai, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she replied, though the words were all but lost to the sound of her weeping.


Upon reappearing in Japan after a year, Kaname had been greeted by a world that diverged from his memories of how things should be. His grandmother was dead. His little brother was suddenly bigger and was in the same grade. The kids who had been his classmates were a year ahead. Nobody else noticed this shift in the universe. He was the one out of step.

Taiki again felt this discrepancy.

This was surely the Twelve Kingdoms. Risai was with him again. He was lying wrapped in silken sheets upon a four poster bed. The opulent room housing him could only be part of a palace.

And yet this bed was not his bed, and this palace not Hakkei Palace either. The Risai before him was not the Risai of his memories. She had lost weight, had lost an arm even… but more unfamiliar than that was the haggard cast to her face and the hardness in her eyes. He could tell just by looking at her that she had suffered greatly since last he'd seen her.

This world or that, they would not stand still and wait unchangedly for his return.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He could not return to the ephemeral fairytale of his childhood. That dream surely no longer existed – if it had ever existed at all beyond his child self's wishful projections onto the strange new world he hadn't known enough of to truly understand. The fantasy had been shattered in a spray of blood – his own – and those three words…

Gyousou is dead.

Taiki jerked, and shook his head. No, it could not be true. He opened his eyes and looked at Risai, sitting steadfast by his bedside, red-eyed but smiling. Surely she would not be smiling if Gyousou were dead. It had been six years… but still, surely she would not be smiling were it true.

He opened his mouth, and faltered. He was so afraid to say the words, as if to voice them would make them real. But he needed to know. He took a deep breath.

"And Gyousou-sama…?"

Risai froze, her smile dripping away. Dread stabbed him.

"Taiho," she began cautiously, still hesitant to show him any world but one of sunshine and rainbows. Like he was still the child in her own memories. She choked out the words like they were painful to voice. "I cannot apologize enough for my worthlessness, but I am unaware of His Majesty's wellbeing."

She reached into a fold of her clothes, and pulled forth an item that stopped his heart.

It was unmistakeably the section of a leather sash, studded with black silver. Except that the belt itself was severed in the middle – and worse, the torn end was stained dark red.

The bloodstain was on the back of the belt – its owner had been struck from behind.

"Gyousou-sama!"

Taiki reached for the severed belt, cradling it close. His fingers brushed the red stain, and burned. He instinctively jerked them away.

Risai grasped the burnt hand with her remaining one, giving it a light comforting squeeze. Her eyes were watering again. "We heard he disappeared the very same day you did. I've since learned he vanished in the midst of battle outside Tetsui. This only recently came into my possession. King Han found it in a shipment of gems from the mine in Rin'u, and graciously passed it on to me to help in the search."

Search…

Finally, the ice-cold fingers gripping Taiki's heart relaxed. "He's alive…?"

Risai's eyes widened. "Most certainly!" she hurried to reassure. "The Hakuchi has not fallen from its post! None of the other kingdoms' phoenixes have sung! Although I am ashamed to have no other tidings to ease the Taiho's mind, I can at the very least confirm that His Majesty most certainly still lives!"

Taiki let out a long, shaky breath. He sank back into his pillows and stared blankly at the ceiling, too overcome with relief to speak.

So, it was a lie.

Or perhaps Asen had truly believed it – he might have been too far away to confirm either way. Supposing there were someone lying in wait to strike Gyousou from behind, but Gyousou managed to get away… Asen might not have known that as he carried out his own assassination. Or perhaps he had known, and had been cruel enough to say what he had anyways. Taiki didn't know what to think. He couldn't explain any of Asen's behavior.

It doesn't matter. Gyousou-sama is alive – that's all that matters.

Missing since the time Taiki himself had been, yes, but alive.

A thought struck him then – a terrible thought. During that time, with king and kirin both missing, who had been taking care of the kingdom?

He turned back to Risai, again seeing her missing arm and countless bandages. Foreboding gripped him. "And Tai… how is Tai?"

Again, she hesitated. She could not seem to find the words she wished to – words doubtlessly meant to make the situation seem less alarming than it was. One would not want to frighten the Taiho, after all.

He closed his eyes. "Who's in charge right now?"

The audible silence lengthened, but at length she seemed to conclude there was no way to soften the blow. "Asen."

Taiki didn't flinch, or sigh. He only let out a small little, "I see."

A moment later, he opened his eyes and turned to her. "What happened?"

Risai took a deep breath. "It's difficult to know where to begin…"


Taiki listened to her long, pain-filled tale in stunned silence.

Seven kingdoms. Seven kingdoms had come for him. Seven kirin and at least three kings had personally searched for him.

How long had it been since that many people had reached out to him in anything other than fear?

Risai looked at Taiki anxiously.

"Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done for your shirei; the corruption simply went too deep. They had to be exorcised."

She watched him worriedly, as though expecting him to burst into tears. Taiki just nodded. He lowered his head, heart churning as pity and abject relief swirled into deep, raw guilt.

He ached for Sanshi and Gouran as they had been, before illness and fear had driven them mad. If only he'd remembered their existence from the beginning, hadn't just written them off as strange, imaginary friends conjured up by his lonely mind, he could have explained the situation while they'd still retained their higher reason.

In retrospect, it was obvious what it must have looked like to them. In their brief absence from Taiki's side, he'd nearly died. Rushing back, they found one of the king's most trusted men standing over him with a bloody sword. Then all of a sudden they were in a strange place cut off from all help, unable to even contact Taiki anymore, surrounded by strange people who seemed intent on brainwashing the weak and addled Taiki into thinking himself human, and once he did began cleverly poisoning him with meat.

That this was not part of Asen's plot, that those people genuinely thought he was human... perhaps they could have been made to understand back then, if only he'd known to explain.

But he hadn't.

In the end, it was ignorance that had brought about so much suffering. His parents' ignorance of what "Kaname" truly was that caused them to accidentally poison him. His shirei's ignorance that the poisoning was not done in malice. His ignorance of everything that left him worthless as a mediator between them. The misunderstandings between the beings of different worlds had all begun there, from that very first meal the night of his grandmother's funeral.

His shirei and the people of Hourai had all feared the unknown, alien elements they'd gotten caught up in. When something was off, but they didn't know what, anyone – human or youma – felt unnerved. Because they had no way of determining whether this thing was harmful or not. And the more harmful it started to look, the more the fear intensified. They started to feel backed into a corner, attackers on all sides.

Those backed into a corner lashed out. Pushing a perceived attacker out of a second-story window, collapsing a gate onto perceived attackers – it all stemmed from the same fear.

Except Taiki had an immortal body that could survive being lashed out at.

The people of Hourai had not.

Taiki bowed his head, grieving for all those whose lives had been lost – the Hourai people killed for crimes they couldn't even conceive of, and his shirei whose ignorance and fear had brought about their own ruin.

When he at last looked back up, Risai tried to smile comfortingly. However, she didn't offer any consolations, perhaps somehow sensing there were no words that could sanitize the wretched tragedy he'd allowed to take place.

Instead, Risai reached out and took his hand in hers.

"The Queen Mother put you into a deep sleep to rest your wounds. She told us you would wake when your body was healed and your memories restored, but that was nearly a month ago and we were all starting to worry. I cannot express how thankful I am to see you well."

Risai's eyes shone as she looked at him, like the mere fact he was here and responsive was a miracle she could scarcely dare believe. Her hand tightened over his like he might vanish beneath her fingers otherwise.

"The Ren Taiho sends her regrets that she could not stay to congratulate you on your recovery in person, as do the Han Taiho and King Han. King En has also returned to his kingdom, leaving the En Taiho behind in his stead; I'm sure he'll make an appearance soon. King Kei and the Kei Taiho are naturally still here. They have been most graciously concerned with your recovery, and will be heartened to hear you've awoken."

Taiki thought of all these people who'd worked so hard to find him. And then he looked anew at Risai, who had begun it all. Who had crossed the Void Sea and lost her arm. How many lives had she saved, in this world and that, by refusing to turn from her purpose? There were not words enough to thank her. For six years he had forgotten her, but she had never once forgotten him.

Taiki squeezed Risai's hand back, as though he too feared if he let go they would be separated again. He could barely see her through the sudden blur of tears in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, the insufficient words all he had to repay her.

He felt the hand in his let go. A single arm drew him into a tight embrace.


"Yo, chibi, you up, huh?"

Sauntering into the honored guest bedchambers of Kinpa Palace was a small figure appearing to belong to a boy of around twelve or thirteen. Taiki startled; though of course he'd known Enki was smaller than most kirin, that his human form had frozen in time at a rather inconvenient age, the Enki of his memories had always been just that much bigger than him.

It was a shock to find he'd aged past Enki. He felt a pang at this reminder of all the time he'd lost. He didn't know what to say; it felt like he was meeting Enki again for the first time.

Enki himself appeared to share no such feelings – as the second eldest kirin, this was doubtlessly a scenario he'd encountered time and again until he'd become inured to the awkwardness of it. Or perhaps he'd just breezed past all such awkwardness in the first place, or else still felt it but pretended to be unaffected – it was difficult to tell with Enki.

Whatever the case, Enki ignored the seat Risai had hurriedly vacated for him, instead jumping up on the tea table near Taiki's bedside. He plopped down in the middle of the table, crossing his legs in his lap. He beamed at Taiki and leaned closer.

"And here I was starting to think we'd have to get you a true love's kiss to see you up and at 'em."

Taiki bowed his head. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused for you and your king."

Enki waved his hands. "Eh, if there was never anything going on, Shouryuu would get bored and moody and probably end up burning En to the ground for the sheer hell of it, so you're actually doing me a favor."

"I'm sure King En wouldn't-"

"Five hundred years I've put up with that idiot: trust me, he would. The moron is way too used to following his every damn whim."

Taiki rather thought much of the same could be said for Enki. He smiled and said, "Towards the end, I remembered King En a bit. It proved very helpful." He bowed his head again. "Thank you very much for all you've done for me."

Enki rubbed at his head embarrassedly. "It's nothing," he mumbled, looking down as he traced the wooden grain of the table below him with a finger, oddly shy. Then he looked back up, curious. "What did you remember, anyways?"

"The lesson he taught me when we first met."

Enki's mouth opened and he slapped a hand his face with a groan. "So basically trauma broke through trauma? God, I am so sorry, I somehow didn't realise he'd take it that far – I mean, you'd think after all these years I would, but-"

"I was grateful, once I understood," Taiki hurried to reassured him. "So many people told me I can't bow down to anyone but the true king, but I didn't really believe them until I tried it for myself."

"Yeah, well, that was the general idea. But to try to physically force you to the floor…" Enki scowled. "You could have been really hurt! Of all the stupid harebrained - !"

Taiki's smile faded. "It's a good thing that he did," he said quietly.

'Apologize! Bow down and apologize and swear that nothing like this will ever happen again!'

A rough hand in his hand, his head been shoved down, down towards the floor … towards their feet, these feet, the wrong feet …

'NO!'

That panic, that sudden sense of wrongness and inexplicable conviction that he couldn't bow to his angry classmates, had been the initial blow to the wall separating 'Taiki' from 'Kaname'.

"When you and your king came, I was so lost inside. I think I really did need that kind of drastic measure. And when I remembered in Hourai, it truly was very helpful. You don't need to apologize for him."

Enki huffed, a sound half-exasperated, half-amused. "I've been apologizing for him since before you were born, but fine, I'll stop for now."

Enki surveyed him in silence for a moment, before asking, "So, how are you feeling?"

"Much better."

"Really?" Enki raised a dubious eyebrow. "You look like a good wiff of wind would finish you off." Then he tilted his head. "Then again, when you first got here I was convinced you'd stop breathing before Youko and Risai got you to the Queen Mother, so I guess having to be knocked off by wind actually qualifies as an improvement."

He'd been brought here nearly a month ago, according to Risai. She'd also said that after the Queen Mother had healed him, all the foreign kings and kirin had returned home… except for Enki.

"En Taiho, you've been here all this time?"

Enki nodded. "I've basically been treating it like a vacation."

Taiki's heart twisted at this lonesome thought. "Without King En?"

Enki smiled brightly. "That's what makes it a vacation!" he claimed, but Taiki felt even worse for him.

He'd thought Enki had been complaining about his king more than usual. Now he understood why.

"I hope you can see him soon."

There came a knock at the door. It opened a moment later to show a tall, pale man standing stiffly in the doorway. Taiki's head lifted.

"Kei Taiho," he called, waving him in.

Keiki made his slow, uncertain way to his bedside, hovering there in stiff silence. Hiding an amused grin, Enki excused himself, leaving the two of them alone. The awkwardness now filled the air, smothering the room in a suffocating blanket of ringing silence.

How had he used to talk to Keiki? Taiki couldn't recall. He'd used to be able to run up to him and chatter on about anything. Yet now he couldn't think of single thing to say.

Taiki lowered his eyes, pricked by guilt for all the times he'd come crying to Keiki for help. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I have put you to."

Keiki shook his head. "Think nothing of it. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes. I am deeply grateful from the bottom of my heart for all you have done for Risai and for myself."

"Such was not the product of my efforts, but those of Her Majesty."

Her Majesty

Taiki was struck by the realization that those words referred to an entirely different queen than last he'd heard Keiki speak them. Keiki's 'Her Majesty' had always been full of quiet adoration mixed with frustration and worry. So many feelings mixed into so short a title. But now, all those feelings were gone, along with the master Keiki had held them for.

Taiki felt like a knife had been plunged into his heart. His breaths came rapid and shallow as his hand unconsciously drifted under his pillow, to where he'd stashed the bloodstained fragment of Gyousou's belt over Risai's concerned protests about its effects on his health.

Supple leather met his fingers, and he remembered how to breath.

Taiki mentally shook himself, and looked up, remembering, "The new King Kei is a taika too?"

"Yes. She's been looking forward to meeting you. She's currently conducting the Privy Council. She will be coming here directly."

"I see."

Another taika, about the same age as him. A girl who had stepped off concrete streets full of electric lights into this world of cobblestone and green as far as the eye could see. A teenager who, like him, had been spirited away.

What was she like? Had she stared at the marvelous landscapes in wonder, felt her heart seize at the wide gaping jaws of a youma, wanted to curl up in a ball when faced with stacks of complicated reports written in an unknown tongue?

One thing he knew for certain. She had not gone back. She had not caused the deaths of so many innocents.

Taiki looked down at the memory of all those years of feeling like he was drowning in blood. All those years of not understanding anything – of only being able to quickly and expressionlessly turn away anyone who tried to approach him – him and the madness he brought in his wake.

Yet in the end, even that extreme measure had failed.

"I dreamed a long and terrible dream."

Keiki's wandering eyes jerked back to him with a start. Taiki gave him a wane smile. "You remember, don't you? The first time we met I was a kirin who was completely incapable of doing anything."

"Ah—yes—"

"You patiently did so much on my behalf, and taught me so much, and yet I forgot all of it."

"Taiki—"

"In the midst of painful dreams, I constantly saw visions of Houro Palace. I longed for it so badly and wanted to go there."

At some point he'd risen from the pillows supporting him without realizing it, anxiety constricting his throat as words poured out of him.

"I wonder if I made it in time."

"Taiki—" repeated the clearly distressed Keiki, hands stretched out as if to lay him back down but hesitating just before reaching him. As if, if touched, Taiki might shatter.

Taiki saw this, but the words wouldn't stop and he couldn't lay back down. "I've wasted so much time. So much has been lost."

All the years he'd been doing nothing in Japan, Tai had been sinking further and further into its sufferings. The harsh, cold land had become a place where monsters roamed unchecked, where famine and tyranny drove out all life. But there remained the people of Tai.

He'd felt awful for them as a child, watching them struggle in the cold below the Sea of Clouds. He'd been frustrated at how small he was, not knowing enough to make any measurable difference in their lives except in giving them a new king. He'd wanted to just quickly grow up and be able to help them already.

And yet now he was almost grown, and had done nothing for them through all the horrors they'd faced in the last six years. How many people had died, while he just sat purposelessly at a desk? It had to be in the thousands, the hundreds of thousands. He'd forgotten them, and they'd died for it.

And there were the people of Tai even now. Cold. Hunted. Dying.

"I made it in time, didn't I?"

He was now looking straight up at Keiki, eye to eye. He felt near clawed apart by anxiety.

"Of course," Keiki replied with that surety, that taken-for-granted conviction that Taiki had always envied. "That's why we brought you home. The two of us speaking here and now is testimony enough that hope remains alive. Don't concern yourself over it."

Taiki nodded, his worst fears withering in the face of Keiki's solid, unshakable belief. Suddenly, exhaustion claimed him. He sank back into bed, eyes drifting closed.


The sky outside the window was a clear blue – as blue as forever.

It called to him. To push aside the shutters and leap out, flying through that endless blue right to his master's side.

But he couldn't.

He was barely able to sit up to receive visitors. He couldn't leap out of bed, to say nothing of any windows. Until he could at least get up and walk, he was stuck in Kei. The time until he had recovered enough to do anything constructive seemed infinitely long.

And yet even then, he still wouldn't be able to fly.

Taiki closed his eyes again, leaning back against the mountain of pillows Risai had insisted on. Even Keiki had been vocal about it.

Thinking this, Taiki sighed. Keiki would never have let everything spiral into such a disaster. He was far too capable, always firmly knowing who and what he was. What power lay at his command and what he should do with it.

If only I'd been more like that…

He wished more than ever he'd managed to learn more from Keiki while he could. Except, even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered. He would have just forgotten that too, along with those lessons he had managed to pick up so long ago on Mount Hou.

And now he remembered, and still couldn't make use of them.

I have returned to being a worthless kirin.

Right back to square one, except without the hope he'd someday rise beyond it.

He opened his eyes and turned to the window again. The urge to fly to his king's side was so strong – nearly as strong as the night he'd sworn his fealty, when he'd effortlessly managed the transformation that had always eluded him before. And would continue to elude him from now on – he could no longer fly to Gyousou's side.

But it didn't matter. He wouldn't let it. Whether he could fly, whether he couldn't – he'd crawl if he had to. He would get there one way or another. How wasn't important.

His fingers closed on the severed belt Risai had left with him. His fingers traced the engravings on the severed belt before catching on a pad of cloth Risai had tied on it to shield him from the blood – Gyousou's blood. Taiki lowered his head, fingers tightening over the torn leather.

Gyousou had been wounded. He'd been struck from behind, had bled enough to stain the belt. And yet, the Hakuchi had not fallen. None of the other kingdom's phoenixes had sung.

Gyousou was alive. Somewhere out there, he was still alive.

His belt had gotten out of Tai just before the coastline had become an impassable death zone. It had been mixed in with a shipment from the mines of Mount Kan'you in Bun Province. Almost as though someone had hidden it among the ore. Almost as if King Tai wished evidence of his existence to be known abroad, King Han had said.

Through this miraculous connection, King Tai and his subjects are still linked together. You must keep the faith.

When he looked on the hands holding this precious link, they looked laughably frail, like the hands of a corpse. But this brought a faint smile to Taiki's face, calling back a memory from another time, another life.

Shortly after naming Gyousou king, in those anxiety-filled days between the covenant and King En's very memorable intervention, Gyousou had asked him what his name had been in Hourai.

… come to think of it, Gyousou had been the only one to ask him that, and Taiki was seized with the desire to bury his face in a pillow and scream at the realization that if he'd simply told more people his Hourai name they probably could have found him sooner. Certainly if Renrin had gone around asking, "Do you know Takasato Kaname?" she might have gotten actual useful replies.

But after coming here he simply hadn't identified as "Takasato Kaname" anymore. Right from the hour he'd entered this world he'd essentially been told that that person had never truly existed – that it didn't matter what his Hourai name had been because it hadn't been his real name to begin with. Six months into his time over here, he'd long since been "Taiki".

Nonetheless, Taiki had obliged his new master with "Takasato Kaname," and written it out for Gyousou since this was quite the string of near unpronounceable nonsense here. Upon seeing the characters, Gyousou had laughed that "Takasato" was one radical off from "Kouri," the mountain where the spirits of the dead were reborn. He'd rarely called Taiki anything but "Kouri" from then on.

None of the retainers had understood why Gyousou had given his kirin such an ominous name, and when asked Gyousou would equivocate something intentionally vague about turning tides and so ominous it would turn out fortuitous. None of them had understood this either, but since Gyousou was the king they didn't ask twice. And so, by a quirk of fate and Gyousou's amusement at it, Taiki had wound up named for Mount Kouri.

It now felt very apt.

On Mount Kouri, the dead are reborn…

The shiki turned to seiki, the dead returning to life.

A return from the darkest abyss.

Beyond the window, far away under the same wide open sky, lay a desolate Tai and a terrorized, dying people. A kingdom on its deathbed.

Much as Takasato Kaname had been.

Taiki closed his eyes. The kirin Gyousou had called Kouri had lived up to his name. Now, he absolutely must insure Gyousou himself, and the kingdom they had been vowed before the gods to protect, did the same.