Disclaimer: The characters from Fushigi Yuugi are the creations and property of Yuu Watase and related enterprises. I do not own them and do not make any profit from this fiction other than my enjoyment in spending time with them.
However, the plotline for this story and all original characters do belong to me (and yes, the dang text as well:P) and may not be used elsewhere without my permission.
Warning: This story contains major spoilers for Kaze-chan's "It WAS a Normal Day in the Market." For those of you who might become intrigued by some of Subaru's references during this chapter, go and read that story! And don't say you can't find it, because it's listed in my favorites on my author profile. "Market" is a fabulous action-adventure covering the entire Byakko saga all the way through the summoning and beyond. If you're yearning for a good FY fanfiction fix, with great characterizations, breathtaking action, and heart-rending emotion—this is it. Just read it and enjoy.
Acknowledgments: Warm thanks to Shunyata Ryuen and Purple Mouse for their usual excellence in beta-reading under pressure, and a very deep bow of gratitude to Kaze-chan for permitting me to use the plotline of "It was a Normal Day in the Market," for Subaru's and Tokaki's back story.
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Chapter 12. Reunion
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Tokyo
Yui paused in the doorway of the elaborately furnished den in Tetsuya's condo, watching the young Suzaku warrior struggle with the G5 computer. His chestnut ponytail bobbed in concentration as he carefully tapped on the keyboard, then reached out with the mouse and clicked--only to jerk his hands back in dismay as the screen flooded with lurid sexual images. He hammered desperately on the keys, but his actions only resulted in even more images popping up. Finally, in a last gesture of desperation, he tried to cover the monitor with his hands.
Setting the tea tray on a table, Yui moved into the room.
"Here, let me help you."
She leaned over him, noting with amusement that even the tips of his ears were pink with embarrassment. Clicking on the corner of each image, she closed each one, smiling as she heard Chiriko's sigh of relief.
"Gomen nasai, Yui-sama, I never meant for those drawings…for those, er, portraits…"
"Don't worry about it, Chiriko. Actually, it's very impressive that you managed to dismantle Tetsuya's firewall within one hour of learning what a computer is." She paused. "You don't mind if I call you 'Chiriko,' do you? Or would you prefer your given name?"
"No, Chiriko is fine, Yui-sama. It's…well, it's the name that I answer to inside my head, sooo…it's fine."
"Good. But maybe you could grant a favor in return and call me just 'Yui.' The title 'Yui-sama' brings back memories—most of them bad."
There was a moment of silence.
"It must have been terrible for you."
Yui looked up sharply, but there was no irony in the Suzaku warrior's gaze; only sympathy tinged with curiosity. Nevertheless, she was surprised by the sudden upwelling of bitterness in her breast.
"Oh, yes, poor little me. Plotting against my best friend and all of her warriors—and helping to bring about your deaths."
She caught her breath, appalled by her biting sarcasm. What had resurrected that self-hatred from her teen years? Was it being in close proximity to people whose lives she had treated as expendable, people whom she had dismissed as nothing more than characters in a book?
"It is hard to believe, however—that we could be real; that all of this could be real." Chiriko seemed to read her thoughts, waving a hand to take in the room with its modern conveniences. "If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would've been just as unwilling to believe in the reality of your world as you were in mine. Even without the burden of being lost and alone."
Yui turned away abruptly, forcing back the tears. She had vowed back in high school to stop wasting time crying over events in her past, and yet here she was, overwhelmed by the quiet sympathy of a young man whom she had once regarded as an enemy. Although to be honest, she hadn't been aware of Chiriko as anything other than a number: Suzaku Warrior Number Seven, another enemy to be crossed off the list when Miboshi took his life.
"I didn't even know you," she whispered, suddenly horrified by the impersonality of her hatred.
"Nor I you. Except as the beautiful but angry Seiryuu no Miko."
"And now?" She blushed, unsure of why she had asked.
He caught her hand and turned her to meet his clear, honest gaze.
"More beautiful than before—but much less angry. Vulnerable." He hesitated. "Soft."
A strangled laugh escaped her, and he flushed at her reaction.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, Chiriko. It's just that no one calls me soft. They all expect me to be smart and tough and cerebral."
"Not even your…suitor?"
She smiled at the old-fashioned term. "Especially not my suitor. He likes me to be independent and make my own decisions."
"It means that he respects your intelligence."
"Yes, I know," she sighed. "But sometimes it would be nice if he appreciated my intelligence a little less, and some of my other qualities—" She stopped, once again appalled at herself. "Why am I laying all this on you?"
Chiriko stood up. He was only about five inches taller than her, so for once she didn't have to crane her neck to look into a man's face.
"Because you know that I understand. How it feels when people see you only as—" He opened and closed his arms, imitating a giant mouth. "—an enormous talking brain."
Yui let out a peal of laughter. His joke wasn't really that funny, but relief drove her hilarity. Relief at being understood, and maybe at having one oasis of normality in this endless horror-filled night. If there was a tinge of hysteria in her laughter, Chiriko was too polite to mention it, merely smiling in return.
Yui was glad; if she didn't laugh, she might well scream.
"So, you two are having some fun, hmm?"
Tetsuya's tone was cool and sardonic, his eyes enigmatically shaded behind his Ray-bans as usual. Yui caught her breath with a sound that was nearly a sob. Chiriko walked over to join Tetsuya in the doorway, unobtrusively blocking his view of Yui as she struggled to regain control.
"Yui was just being polite, laughing at my jokes to put me at ease. Do you need me back in the kitchen, Tetsuya-san?"
"Yes, we're planning one more strategy session before we catch a little sleep. Yui, do you need a sweater or anything?"
Yui turned to Tetsuya, once more composed. "If you don't mind, I'd like to change out of these…" she indicated her revealing black top and tight jeans from the club, "…into something more…more…"
"Suitable for a warrior priestess," intejected Chiriko. He blushed at their startled looks. "Yui, I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean—"
"No, you're right," said Yui, smiling at Chiriko to dispel his embarrassment. "We have to face reality—and that means that I'd better put on some running shoes, some dark, loose clothing, and maybe a knit cap, in case we have to do any more breaking-and-entering."
Tetsuya looked from one to the other before shrugging casually. "We were actually going to discuss that in the kitchen, but it seems that you two are way ahead of me."
The shades turned and fixed on Chiriko once more. "By the way, Chiriko, since you seem to be on a friendly basis with Yui, there's no need for you to be formal with me. You can call me just 'Tetsuya'; no –san, please. After all, we're going to be working closely together now, aren't we?"
He paused one moment longer before turning and leading them out of the den.
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Keisuke carefully placed five ceramic cups on the huge slab of green marble that was Tetsuya's kitchen table. A steaming pot appeared in their wake, as did several hastily thawed mochi—red-bean-filled rice cakes. Another plate soon joined the first, this one bearing freshly-baked puffs of plain mochi, to be dipped in the tiny dishes of soy sauce and sugar placed before each person at the table.
He quickly joined the others on the cushioned tatami mats, swinging his legs around to fit in the sunken well beneath the table. Raising his chopsticks, Keisuke forced a grin.
"Itadakimasu!"
"Itadakimasu," echoed the rest, but only Mitsukake reached for the plates of food. Yui, Tetsuya and Chiriko contented themselves with cups of green tea.
"What's wrong? Why aren't the rest of you eating? I promise that I'm a better cook than my sister."
Yui smiled tiredly at Keisuke's strained humor. "The food looks good, Keisuke, but I think my bed sounds even better. If I eat anything, I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight." She nodded at the faint glow brightening the eastern window. "Or, I should say, this morning."
There was a low murmur of agreement from everyone except Mitsukake, who lifted a red bean-filled mochi with his chopsticks, inspecting it critically before taking an experimental bite. One more bite, and the entire thing was gone. Another cake followed the first, and another—until Mitsukake noticed the silence around the table and found four faces regarding him in awe.
"I'm sorry—did you want any?" he asked, proffering the plate. The others mutely shook their heads. "Fine, then. More for me." He placidly resumed his meal.
Keisuke drew in a deep breath. "Well, I never thought I'd see anyone beat Miaka's record, but I think that you're going to give her a run for her money, Mitsukake."
The sixteen-year-old seishi shrugged, unabashed. "Younger this time," he explained after swallowing the last of the mochi. "Hungry all the time as well. Part of the growing process, from what I can remember."
Blinking at Mitsukake's strange juxtaposition of teen attitude and mature thought processes, Keisuke suddenly wondered how it felt to be the reincarnate seishi. Did Mitsukake feel fragmented and off-balance, or were the seishi naturally resilient when it came to coping with multiple life experiences in the same body? He stole a glance at Chiriko, almost expecting to witness some childlike behavior leftover from his previous life—but caught him smiling at Yui in a very non-childish manner.
Not childish at all.
Keisuke couldn't help glancing over at Tetsuya. His friend's expression seemed as inscrutable as always behind his glasses, but Keisuke could read his tension in the slight tightening of his lips.
Time for a diversion.
"So, as Honorary Suzaku Seishi Number One, I hereby call this meeting to order," he announced, trying to sound like his usual cheerful self.
Silence.
Come on, people. Help me out here. Don't sit there silent and unmoving, as if we're at a funeral. Don't make it so that there's nothing left to say or do, so that I have time to remember—
"Honorary Suzaku seishi?"
Keisuke cast a grateful glance at Mitsukake. "Yes. That's what Chichiri called me and Tetsuya."
"Chichiri-san," murmured Chiriko. "I wonder if he's…I really miss him."
"We all miss him," said Mitsukake, experimentally dipping a piece of baked mochi into the soy sauce and sugar. "And I'm afraid that we're going to miss him more every hour."
Tetsuya frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that if the Universe of the Four Gods over there," he nodded at the book sitting on the marble countertop behind them, "is the dimensional link through which the creatures enter this world, we're going to need a powerful spiritual force to block their passage. Yui may be able to control it briefly, but we can hardly expect her to stay on watch all night and all day."
Yui, Tetsuya, and Keisuke turned to look at the book with expressions of horror, as if something loathsome was watching them from beneath its red leather cover. Keisuke could almost see thin tendrils of black mist curling out from between the pages…
Wait a moment.
"Look!" he shrieked, pulling back from the table.
It wasn't his imagination; something was definitely flowing from the Universe of the Four Gods! The others also jumped up—all except for Mitsukake, who calmly laid his chopsticks beside his plate, pulled his long legs out from the table well, then walked over to the book and slapped an inscribed strip of paper across both covers.
The black mist twisted, then dissipated with a faint hiss.
"Does anyone have a brush and tablet, and can you tell me the current hour in this world?" Mitsukake's calm tones cut through the ragged gasps of the others.
Keisuke rushed to get a pen and paper for Mitsukake. "Five AM!" he choked, looking at the digital clock. "Um, I mean, five hours past midnight."
"Five eh-em it is," muttered Mitsukake, looking curiously at the pen as Keisuke demonstrated its function. "We must keep track of how long the ofuda holds out. You can see that the edges are turning slightly yellow; we should be able to get three or four hours protection from each strip. Unfortunately, Taiitsukun had given me only a few ofuda, so we need to get more as soon as we can. Is there a holy man living nearby?"
Yui and Keisuke looked at each other helplessly. "Ummm…"
"Don't you have a village holy man? In a city of this size, I would expect there to be at least a few major monasteries."
"This is a different world, Mitsukake," said Chiriko. "Perhaps the people are not as…close to their gods as we are."
In the sudden, awkward silence, one voice spoke up.
"Oosugi Toki."
"You're right, Tetsuya! How could I forget?" Keisuke turned to Chiriko and Mitsukake. "Toki is a friend we met while researching the ShiJin, the first time Miaka went to your world. He's a Shinto monk and the adopted grandson of Oosugi Suzuno—Suzuno, the Priestess of Byakko!"
"The Priestess of Seiryuu and the descendant of the Priestess of Byakko," mused Mitsukake. "It seems right somehow. How soon can we get a message to Oosugi Toki?"
"Right away. He doesn't have a personal phone, but we can call the monastery and leave a message."
"Five AM. Morning prayers," reminded Tetsuya.
"Gods, do you ever have the mind for details! No wonder you're the brains of our business."
Tetsuya smiled wryly but nodded at Yui yawning at the table. "I think it's time at least some of us went to bed. We have a long day ahead of us. I'll call Toki's monastery in an hour; meanwhile, why don't the rest of you get some sleep? Keisuke, would you please show Mitsukake and Chiriko to the guest rooms?"
"Not me, thank you. I think I'll stay up for a while to watch the timing on the first ofuda." Mitsukake waved at his nearly empty plate. "But if I could trouble you for some more of those sticky rice cakes?"
"I'll bake them," said Keisuke a little desperately.
"No, I'll take care of it. You look about to collapse, Keisuke; go on and get some sleep." Tetsuya's voice brooked no argument. "You can use my suite while Yui takes the large guest room. I'll wake you when it's your turn for watch." He smiled sardonically at the military term.
Keisuke reluctantly followed Yui and Chiriko up the track-lit spiral staircase to the bedrooms. Tetsuya's penthouse condo was huge by any standard, but in Tokyo, it was considered practically palatial. All the same, it was too soon before he found himself alone in Tetsuya's master suite.
He wandered into the luxurious bathroom, complete with a traditional Japanese furo bench and drain, a western-style jacuzzi, and an over-sized glass shower stall. Reaching into the stall, he turned the water on, satisfied when it hit the glass walls with a sound like muted thunder. He undressed, leaving his sweat-stained and slightly bloodied clothes in a pile on the floor, and stepped in.
Alone. With nothing left to do or say. As he had dreaded, the nightmare images came rushing back.
Miaka clinging to him, crying as Chichiri and Tasuki drew her away. Jointed black appendages thrusting through the assassin's eyes. A panic-stricken dash through the back alleys of the Roppongi district. Blood seeping through his sleeve.
An explosion of fire and smoke and roaring sound.
Taka.
Keisuke turned the water up higher. He knew that it was for the best that Miaka had been taken away to safety—but somehow it seemed wrong that there was no one left here to officially mourn Taka's death.
No one who loved him the way she loved him. No one except…
Suddenly he found himself pressed against the tiles of the shower wall, clinging to the mosaic as if the rushing water were capable of dragging him away. He felt the warm torrent pounding on his back, sluicing through his hair, joining with the rivulets already running down his face.
"Taka!" he wept, "Tamahome," curling against the hard ceramic and hoping that the water drowned out his keening cries.
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Sairou
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The workhorses clopped wearily along the streets of the small town that nestled on the borders of the Imperial City. Their iron-shod hooves struck the hard stone paving of the main thoroughfare, generating sparks that flashed briefly before fading in the slanting light. One lone, surly camel loaded with exotic packages paused and lifted its tail, depositing a load of dung before a pile of discarded cargo baskets, then moved on under the crop of its driver.
One of the baskets shifted irritably. "Great. Wonderful. Now I get to add camel shit to the other exotic scents sticking to my clothes. Haven't you had enough yet?"
Another basket trembled briefly as a snow-white head popped up behind it and ducked down again. Anxious blue-grey eyes met the stormy golden glare of the man crouched beside her.
"Just a few more minutes, please? I only want to see him one more time, and then we can go, I promise."
Tokaki sighed and ran his hand through his equally snowy locks. "Look, Subaru, you should just go up there and talk to him. Just walk twenty paces across the street to his shop, and then you can--"
"I can't." Subaru turned her face away, but Tokaki could still see the flush staining her cheeks. Her reply was low and miserable. "I can't let him see me. I couldn't bear the look on his face if he were to see me like this…"
"Like what?" Tokaki failed to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "You haven't done anything wrong, Subaru! All you've done is advance your age—and it wasn't as if we had any choice. It was grow up now or grow up never, don't you remember?" He gritted his teeth as she shook her head mutely. "Look, he's going to find out about you eventually. Do you really think that gossip about our reappearance in the Imperial City isn't going to filter out here?"
He took a deep breath and tried to control his temper. He knew damn well that he was making her even more miserable—but this was no pleasure jaunt for him, either. The last two weeks had been an exercise in bitter frustration. No matter what he did, she remained distant and moody, and he couldn't help feeling that he was failing some secret test in her mind. If he treated her with polite formality, she looked at him as if she were disappointed in him, but if he tried to act warmer or friendlier, she drew back with an expression of distrust.
Suddenly his frustration boiled over. If he was in a no-win situation with Subaru, then fine—but he was damned if he was going to act like a whipped dog around her. He had had enough!
Grabbing her arm, he hauled her up from their hiding place. "Enough of this shit!" he spat. "We're going in there now!"
At that moment, Tokaki's neck was seized in a viselike grip—and for one insane second, he thought that Nuriko had suddenly materialized out of thin air. But Subaru was equally as immobilized as him, her eyes wide with panic as she struggled against the hand that gripped her shoulder. Tokaki felt a hot rush of fury, and twisted to strike out at their attacker, only to find himself shoved roughly back among the baskets. Subaru landed on his chest, her hair spilling across his face and obscuring his vision.
"All right." A man stood above them, his stocky build backlit by the setting sun. "You two have been spying on my shop all afternoon, so I finally decided to let you have a taste of what's waiting for you. Go on then: try and rob me. I'm ready for both of you!"
Tokaki took hold of Subaru, lifting her off his chest and and rolling out from beneath her. He leapt to his feet, ready to fight—but paused when he saw that their attacker had dropped his own fists, his entire body frozen in shock. Suddenly the man stooped and seized Subaru's shoulders, pulling her upright.
Enraged, Tokaki leapt forward—
"Wait!" both Subaru and the man cried out at the same time. Tokaki skidded in the dust, sliding into him, but the man shrugged the seishi off without even bothering to look up. His attention was focused on Subaru as he gently turned her face from side to side, studying her features with awe.
"Doulin-chan?" His voice trembled in disbelief.
Subaru lifted her eyes, fixing the man with a tearful blue-grey gaze.
"Daddy!" she sobbed, and flung her arms around his neck.
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Tokaki absently poked his chopsticks into a plate heaped with tender slivers of tea-smoked duck, minced tofu and beef in sweet soy sauce, and green beans flavored with pepper-flowers…and wondered what was wrong with his appetite. Subaru's mother, Tamure Yukari, was an excellent cook, as his first few mouthfuls had confirmed; the atmosphere was warm and congenial; and Subaru herself seemed almost transported, her laughter ringing out as he hadn't heard it since…well, since their last lives together.
Benjiro, Subaru's brother, chattered happily, plying him with questions about his former seishi adventures, while Yukari made sure that his cup and plate were kept full, smiling warmly at him as she served food with one hand and deftly cradled a tiny infant in a sling with the other. Whenever she passed by Subaru, she reached out to caress her newly grown-up daughter's hair and smile at her in wonder.
All in all, Tokaki was in the midst of a warm and loving family gathering…so why was he hiding feelings of restlessness and irritation beneath his polite smile? It couldn't be the fact that from the time that Subaru had reunited with her father, she hadn't bothered glancing at him even once. It couldn't be that he would've been left standing among the baskets as Gennai hustled his daughter home, if he hadn't trailed after them, unnoticed and uninvited. It couldn't be because Subaru and Gennai had kept their heads together through nearly the entire meal, whispering and laughing and sharing some secret language full of obscure references and private, childish jokes.
No, Tokaki reflected, he was man enough not to be jealous of Subaru's closeness with her father. He understood her need to reconnect with the family she loved so dearly. If it meant that she had forgotten his existence in the interim, then he'd be just fine with that as well.
Just.
Fine.
Too late, he realized that Yukari had paused behind him, looking at his untouched plate in dismay.
"Tokaki-san! Please forgive my simple cooking—if the food displeases you, I'd be happy to make any dish you request!"
A sudden silence fell across the table, and all eyes fixed on Tokaki. He felt a warm flush rise in his face.
"No, Tamure-san; the food is excellent. I'm just a little, er, tired from our journey, and so I…I'm eating, um, more slowly than usual."
To prove his point, he snatched up a piece of beef in his chopsticks and shoved it in his mouth. It was so tender that it nearly melted on his tongue, the sweet tang of the soy sauce giving it an irresistible piquancy—but at the same time, he looked across at Subaru, her expression shuttered and closed now that he had spoken, and the bitterness rose within him so that he nearly gagged. He snatched his teacup and drained it.
"Sorry!" he gasped. "Swallowed some pepper seeds by mistake."
Benjiro laughed, rescuing him from the awkward moment, and he grinned gratefully at the boy. However, he now found himself the object of Gennai's attention. The startling contrast of the man's light green eyes against his dusky skin lent his gaze a penetrating quality that did nothing for Tokaki's strained nerves.
"Good recovery," Gennai said, and although his mouth curved in amusement, the smile didn't reach his eyes. Tokaki resisted the urge to squirm in his seat like a seven-year-old. "It's never wise to insult your mother-in-law's cooking."
"She's not his mother-in-law!"
Once again, silence fell.
"I mean, we're not—This is a new life, Daddy!" Subaru sent a pleading glance at her father. "Tokaki and I aren't husband and wife; we're just…fellow Byakko seishi."
Tokaki violently shoved himself to his feet, sending his chair spinning backwards. He turned and caught it before it crashed to the floor, then looked up to see the Tamure family staring at him. Yukari and Benjiro looked shocked and distressed, while Gennai fixed him with a narrow, measuring gaze. Only Subaru kept her eyes downcast, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Gritting his teeth, Tokaki forced his temper back under control. So he was an embarrassment to her, was he? If that was her attitude, then so be it. He'd show her that he didn't need to humiliate her before her family as she had just humiliated him. He bowed politely before them.
"Excuse me," he apologized in a low, controlled voice. "I've just remembered something I left in the saddlebags."
He backed towards the door, knowing that if it hadn't been inexcusably rude, he would have teleported away from Yukari's warm, pitying gaze.
"By the horses," he explained dully. "In the barn. I just…"
Mercifully, he felt the hard wood of the door against his back. Making a final abbreviated bow, he turned and fled into the evening light.
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Subaru pulled her mother's shawl tighter around her shoulders as she approached the shadowed figure seated by the brazier. The red glow of the embers flickered across the beloved features, and she felt a wave of nostalgia sweep through her. How many happy nights had they spent gathered around the small outdoor fire, laughing and teasing and enjoying one another's company? She had taken her happiness for granted, as all children do, blithely certain that she would always be secure and untroubled in his protective embrace. Now that 'always' no longer existed for her, the memories of her recent past held a sweetness that was close to pain.
"Sit beside me, Doulin-chan."
He hadn't even turned around, and yet he'd sensed her distress, as usual. She hurried to join him on the sturdy bamboo divan, its ugly cushions flecked with tiny holes where sparks had landed over the years. Part of an unwanted bequest, the bulky couch had long been delegated to the outdoors, where it served over the years as fireside divan and children's playset.
Gennai smiled at her as she settled in beside him, then turned his gaze back toward the barn which stood nearly fifty meters away. It was a small structure, built to hold the few animals that a merchant like Gennai kept only for his household use: two horses, a dairy cow, some ducks and chickens, as well as two empty stalls for visitors' mounts. The glow of lamplight spilled from its windows, occasionally obscured by a passing shadow.
Subaru shifted her weight guiltily. "So he's still out there?"
"Yes. He's long since finished looking after your horses, so he took to mucking out all the stalls, and from the contented lowing I heard a while ago, I believe that he even gave old Yasu a good curry-brushing."
She laughed in spite of herself. "Yasu the cow?"
"Yes; she's never had it so good. And my barn hasn't been so thoroughly cleaned in years." Suddenly her father's penetrating stare was directed at her. "So tell me about this young man, Doulin. What has he done that's so unforgivable? Do you hate him?"
Subaru felt her breath catch in her throat. "I don't hate him, Daddy."
"Well, you don't seem to like him very much. Rejecting him like that, right in front of the people he was trying to impress."
"What was I supposed to do? Introduce him as my husband, invite him into my bed?" Subaru stopped, aghast at the words she had flung at her father. She raised her hands to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry, Daddy!"
Gennai didn't seem shocked, however, merely shaking his head and smiling. "I'd always believed that you were the image of your mother, Doulin-chan, but now I see that you have more than a little of your old man's temper, not to mention his tendency to thoughtlessly blurt out hurtful things. And from what little I've seen of that hothead over there, I don't wonder that you two are having trouble getting along."
"That's not it. It's not about quarrels or personality clashes or petty things like that. Tokaki wants…he wants things between us to be the same as they were in our past lives…but I can't do that. What's the point of building on the past if you have no future? And that's what we don't have: a future."
Gennai straightened, turning Subaru's pale face to his. "What do you mean, no future? Is the situation with the Enemy that hopeless?"
"No…well, I don't know. Hopeless isn't the right word; all of the Four Gods and their seishi are planning to fight, and we're far from giving up hope. I wasn't talking about the Enemy; I was talking about…me."
She lowered her gaze and swallowed, fighting for control.
"Tell me."
Subaru shook her head, tears spilling helplessly down her cheeks.
"Come now, Doulin-chan, you know that you can tell me anything. It seemed just a short while ago that you were confiding all of your daily woes to me."
She gave a strangled half-laugh, half-sob. "Lost dolls and hair-pulling fights with Keiko next door--if only I could go back to those days! Crawling into your lap, sobbing out my troubles, knowing that you would make the world all better the way you always did…how I wish that I could be your little girl again!"
A strong pair of arms seized her and pulled her so that she ended up on her father's lap, her head tucked beneath his chin.
"Listen to me, Tamure Doulin, Byakko no Shichiseishi Subaru. You will always be my little girl—always! No matter what games the gods play with Time, no matter if I'm a doddering old man of ninety and you're a plump old grandmother of seventy-two, you will still be my little girl, and this lap is always available for you!"
She laughed and cried and snuggled into him, this man, this hero, this stalwart rock of her existence. The little girl inside her found comfort in his strong and solid bulk, but her adult memories whispered that he couldn't help her this time. How could he, when the danger came from within her, triggered by events that she had been caught up in before his grandfather was born?
She shuddered, and he held her tighter.
"Talk to me, Doulin."
Maybe it was the note of command in his voice or maybe it was just her weariness from carrying the burden all alone, but suddenly the words began spilling from her lips. Pouring out jumbled and stilted, they painted a vivid picture of the shadow beasts' attack on Mount Gyokurei; showing her childish sense of helpless terror exacerbated by her adult knowledge of their mortal danger. She told it all: the terrifying escape to Mount Taikyoku, followed by the forced decision to trade years of their childhood in exchange for their seishi powers--and her words slowed, becoming ominous and dark as she recounted Taiitsukun's refusal of Suboshi's plea.
"She said he would go insane." Subaru's words were soft, tinged with horror. "She said that he had caused the death of innocent people in his last life, and that the rapid aging we were to undergo would eventually eat away at his mind. He had to atone through the deeds of his new life instead of keeping the memories of his former sins…or he would go mad."
"But what does that have to do with you, Doulin-chan?"
"Nothing…everything…I don't know! There's so much that I remember, and yet so much I can't understand! I keep asking myself--what did I do in my last life to deserve this punishment? Why am I the one who is going insane?"
It was too much for her, hearing the words spoken aloud, like a curse from her own lips, She wailed into her father's chest, her hands clutching convulsively at him as his arms tightened almost painfully around her.
Suddenly she felt another pair of hands stroking through her hair, a soft voice murmuring words of comfort. "Hush, baby, shhh, Doulin. Stop crying, my love, and tell us what you mean."
Without raising her head from Gennai's chest, Subaru reached out to catch her mother's hand. Half of her felt embarrassed for losing control, but the other half felt strangely comforted, releasing her hidden fear and grief into their loving embrace. After a while, the storm of tears faded back to a trickle, and she drew a deep, shaky breath.
"Thank you," she quavered, trying to regain her adult voice.
"Don't be silly, Doulin," Yukari gently scolded her. "We're always here for you, you know that. But we can't help you if you won't tell us what's going on."
"She says she is losing her mind," explained Gennai, his voice dull with shock.
"Yes, I know, I was listening. I heard everything. But," Yukari placed a firm hand under Subaru's chin, forcing her daughter to meet her gaze, "why do you think that, Doulin? Why would Taiitsukun protect Suboshi from madness but not you?"
"Maybe she didn't know all of my past. Despite what you might believe, she doesn't know everything."
Yukari shook her head. "From what you told your father, Taiitsukun said that the basis of disqualification was that the seishi had to have brought about the deaths of innocents. I've certainly never heard of any such slander against Byakko no Subaru."
"It's not that simple!" Subaru fought back a rush of irritation. "I myself might never have put a sword to anyone outside of Kutou soldiers, but there are levels of responsibility…"
She trailed off, her mind suddenly flooding with images from her last life, inexplicably, cruelly clear.
A haggard face, mocking and taunting her. Tokaki, roaring with frustrated rage. Suzuno, her priestess, eyes dark with implacable coldness. A sudden flurry of motion, a child's high-pitched voice—then the flash of a sword and the spurt of fresh blood.
She hadn't realized that she'd brought her hands up to clutch at her hair until Yukari caught them, gently disentangling her. She dimly felt her mother caress her hair as she stared horrified into her own past. Why was this happening to her? Had her own desire for vengeance transmitted itself to Suzuno, causing the priestess to summon that demon into their midst? No, she couldn't know that for certain. But this was the only death of an innocent that she could recall from her past, and so the reason for her madness had to lie somewhere in that disastrous event.
"Doulin, you must explain it to us. Exactly what do you believe is happening to you?"
Subaru was too weary and numb to cry anymore. "Taiitsukun said that the new soul would not accept the tainted former life. She said that the new and former lives would conflict, and…and that madness was the result."
"That seems incredibly vague." Gennai seemed to have snapped out of his shock, his eyes bright and alert.
Subaru didn't see her parents exchange significant glances. "It doesn't seem so vague when you're the one experiencing it," she replied with a teenager's sullenness.
Yukari pressed her point. "But neither Taiitsukun nor Byakko had ever told you that you were condemned to madness, isn't that right? How strong is this mental conflict, Doulin-chan? Do you hear disembodied voices? Do you wake somewhere with no memory of how you got there?"
"No, nothing like that." Subaru searched her mind, trying to recall what triggered the feelings of child versus grown woman. Suddenly she flushed scarlet. "It…it seems to happen when I'm near Tokaki. When he wants…and I don't—or I do—or I'm not sure…" The words stuck in her throat, and she found herself unable to meet her father's eyes.
Gennai seemed calm, however, merely nodding at the expression on his wife's face. "Just as I thought. Well, I think it's time I left you women to have a cozy talk, while I spend some time with my future son-in-law." He stood up and dusted off his trousers.
Subaru grew alarmed. "Daddy, he hasn't done anything! I have him completely under control, I promise!"
"And I think that's where most of your problem lies," replied Gennai cryptically before turning and heading towards the barn.
Subaru turned back towards her mother, her blue-grey eyes wide with dismay.
Yukari laughed. "Don't worry, your father has no intention of fighting with Tokaki. At least, I don't think he has." She leaned forward, catching both of Subaru's hands in hers. "Tell me, Doulin-chan…Subaru. What do you remember of your past life? Are all of the memories right there before you at all times, or is it the way it is for most adults, in that something triggers a memory deep within you?"
Looking down at their clasped hands, Subaru tried to think. "I suppose it's that way for me. I only remember when something causes me to."
"Do you have memories from your past life of how it felt to be a normal teenaged girl? Boys who courted you…your first love?"
Subaru gave a choked laugh. "I was never a normal teenaged girl, Mother. By the time I started noticing boys, I was already a Byakko seishi, caught up in politics and war. As for my first love…" she hesitated, "...that was Tokaki." She flushed and fell silent.
Yukari brushed a stray lock of hair from Subaru's face. "Let me tell you a story, Doulin. When I met your father...well, he swept me off my feet. He was so powerful, so certain of the fact that he wanted me, and that nothing would stand in his way. I wanted him just as much, but I was also frightened of changing my life and giving up everything I had. I was very close to my mother, and part of me wanted to stay with her, be her little girl forever. Because it was safe, and while I was with her, I knew what the future held. Your father, however—he represented danger and the fear of the unknown."
She cleared her throat and continued. "So during our courtship, I was confused. At times I felt like a little girl, and then I would reject him and send him away. I had only just turned seventeen, you see. But he would always return, more determined than ever…and I realized that I loved him. I would suddenly feel like a woman, and find myself…wanting him. But there were always those times when I felt fragmented: part little girl, part woman. And I didn't even have past-life memories to confuse me."
Eyes wide and hopeful, Subaru gripped her mother's hands. "So you think that everything I'm feeling is normal—that I'm not going mad?"
Yukari's smile was tinged with pain. "As normal as life can be for a reborn Byakko seishi. Doulin, I know that my love for you drives my reasoning, but I truly do believe that you're perfectly sane. I wouldn't lie to you to make you feel better."
Leaning into her mother's slender arms, Subaru felt the heavy grief leave her heart for the first time since she left Mount Taikyoku. Maybe her mother and father were right. Maybe she was overreacting to the normal conflict felt by every reborn seishi. But in that case, why didn't Tokaki…?
She blurted the question out loud. "Then why doesn't Tokaki seem at all conflicted between his past and present lives?"
"My love, do you think he would confide any doubts about himself to you?" Yukari smiled, remembering the poignant vulnerability she had seen in his face just before he fled the house. "He's trying to win your heart, so it's only natural that he would present himself as a strong, confident man."
Subaru chewed her lip, thinking over Yukari's words. Was Tokaki playing a role just the way she was? Was he equally as frightened of what the future held, and did the past haunt him the way it did her? A shadow darkened her thoughts once again.
Tokaki hadn't had all of the experiences that she had lived through.
Her breath caught in her throat as the poisonous images rose before her once again.
Cold, unfeeling eyes. Hands tearing at her clothes, while other hands held her down. The terror of the rough grasp of strange men.
Subaru buried her head in her mother's breast. It was over and done with, that life now dead and gone. She'd managed to find a way to live with it in her last life; she couldn't let Taheiji's evil follow her into this new life.
But could she ever be certain of her worthiness, when she'd harbored a hatred so deep in her soul that she'd wanted a man dead at any price?
A child's cry. The flash of a blade.
She shuddered, forcing the images back. No matter what lay in her past, she had a role to play as a shichiseishi. Suddenly, she was overtaken by a sense of fatalistic resignation. The future held whatever it held: life or death, sanity or madness. Tormenting herself wouldn't give her control over a future that was even out of the hands of the gods themselves. All she could do was to act the part of the resolute warrior.
Maybe that's what Tokaki was doing as well. She could hardly allow herself to be any less courageous than him.
For the first time in this life, the thought of Tokaki made her feel warm inside. He no longer seemed so much a threat as perhaps a…kindred spirit. If only she could find a way to handle her own fears and reach out to him. She pulled away from her mother's embrace to look into her eyes.
"Mother, how did you manage to resolve your own conflicts about Daddy?"
Yukari's laugh drifted into the starry night.
"I took my courage in both hands, and…I married him."
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Gennai stepped through the door and into the golden glow of lamplight. The other man didn't look up, apparently absorbed in his task of polishing horse tack, but the slight trembling in his fingers gave away his awareness of Gennai's presence.
He strode over to the seishi, absently noting his moonlight-colored hair, startlingly similar to that of Doulin's. A handsome boy, worthy of his daughter as far as looks were concerned…but it was his character that interested Gennai.
He pointed a finger at the edge of the saddle. "You missed a spot."
Tokaki looked up at last, the slanted golden eyes dark with a kind of resigned hostility. For a moment, Gennai thought that he could have been looking into the eyes of Suzaku no Tasuki. Perhaps each of the four gods had its own version of the mercurial, hot-tempered seishi.
For some reason, that thought amused him, and he pulled up a stool next to Tokaki's. "Aren't you going to defend your work?"
Tokaki shrugged, still rubbing at the saddle with a rag. "I've come to accept the fact that nothing I do is good enough for the members of the Tamure family."
"Well, that was an interesting display of self-pity."
Tokaki refused to rise to the bait. "It's not self-pity, it's realism. Why should I keep beating my head against the wall? I'm better off accepting things as they are, instead of hoping for them as I want them to be."
"So how do you want things to be? You want my daughter in your bed?"
His bluntness got a reaction at last. Tokaki's eyes flashed with fire, and he jumped up from his stool, towering over Gennai with his hand on his sword hilt.
"I never allowed anyone to disrespect Subaru in our last lives, and I'm not about to allow it now! Not even if it's her own father!"
"Settle down, hothead, I wasn't slandering my own daughter, who means more to me than you'll ever understand. I was just trying to find out what you expect from her."
"I don't expect anything. Not anymore."
"Back to the self-pity," sighed Gennai. "Here, pick up your rag, sit down, and get back to work."
Tokaki hovered, uncertain for a moment, before snatching the rag out of Gennai's hand and turning back to the saddle, scrubbing at it with displaced fury.
"So you've given up on my daughter. That explains why you didn't come out to comfort her when you heard her crying. And don't pretend that you didn't hear her. She was wailing loud enough to wake the emperor in his palace."
The rag slowed for a moment before resuming its frenetic pace. "She doesn't want my comfort. Don't you remember? All I am to her is a colleague; I don't even rank as a friend."
"Wouldn't you have been concerned about such distress in any of your seishi colleagues?"
Tokaki's lips lifted in a frustrated snarl. "She had you there with her. Now that she's back with her family, she doesn't need me for anything at all."
"Jealousy in addition to self-pity. I have to be honest, Tokaki, you're not coming off very well as a possible suitor for my daughter's hand. She needs someone who's capable of looking after her."
In one swift movement, Tokaki picked up the saddle and threw it across the barn, making the horses squeal in alarm when it crashed against the far wall. He whirled on Gennai, and the older man was startled to see tears in his eyes—tears of rage but also genuine pain.
"Someone who's capable of looking after her! I was looking after her when you were still a snot-nosed toddler scrabbling in the dirt! But none of that means anything to you, does it? And the worst part is that none of that means anything to her, either!"
He pointed a finger right in Gennai's face. "Do you have any idea of how it feels to love someone, then have them spit in your face? To remember a lifetime of loving each other, being there for one another, and then having it end up meaning nothing at all? We were more than husband and wife! We were seishi partners, fellow warriors who fought in two major wars together, not to mention any domestic skirmishes that popped up through the years. And more than that, we were best friends who shared both the brightest and darkest moments of our lives. But now, all I am is someone for her to reject and for you to taunt. Do you have any idea how it feels to be told that you'll never be worthy of the woman you love?"
Gennai reached up and caught Tokaki's hand in a strong grip before pulling it down and holding it between both of his.
"Sit down, Tokaki." His voice was as surprisingly gentle as his gesture. "Sit down…son."
Tokaki stood still for a moment before pulling his hand out of Gennai's grasp. He swiped angrily at the tears on his face, but pulled up his stool and sat down.
"As a matter of fact, I do know how it feels to be told that I was unworthy of the only woman I would ever love. Here, give me your hand again. Don't be stubborn."
Gennai took Tokaki's hand but instead of holding it, he put their arms side by side. There was a startling contrast between Tokaki's fairness and Gennai's dusky, tea-colored skin.
"Do you see? Yukari's skin and hair are only a shade darker than yours and Doulin's. She's a snow spirit next to my earthy darkness. And although we live in the enlightened, protected land of Byakko, where all men are equal regardless of tribal origin—there is still the human tendency to discriminate against those whose skin is dark rather than light."
Gennai released Tokaki's arm and propped his chin in his own hand. "It's a strange prejudice that happens even within a single tribe or family group. The girl with pale skin is considered a far greater prize than a more beautiful girl whose skin is dark. Perhaps it's a type of class prejudice—you know, the peasants who work in the fields tend to have dark, tanned skin as compared to the pale nobles who live in their shaded homes. Regardless of what drives this prejudice and whether or not it is unjust—it exists, and that's a fact that those of us with dark skin must live with."
His green eyes grew distant with memory. "But the heart is not a practical organ, Tokaki. It often denies reality. So although my friends all told me that I was insane, I couldn't help falling in love with the fairest daughter of my father's wealthiest colleague. Yukari. Her father came right out and told me that there was no way that I would ever be accepted as a suitor for her hand, although I came from a family of respectable merchants. My father begged me not to endanger the family business by my obsession with an unobtainable girl." His eyes met Tokaki's and crinkled in amusement. "I obviously did not pay either man the proper amount of filial respect."
Tokaki sighed. "But I assume that Yukari herself wanted you. That's the difference between us; you might have had to deal with your family's disapproval, but not with Yukari's rejection."
"That's where you're wrong. Yukari rejected me every other week." He grinned at Tokaki's stare. "Yukari and Doulin are alike in many ways, especially in their attachment to their parents. Doulin is a Daddy's girl and Yukari was a Mommy's girl. They love the closeness between them and their parents, and we as parents love them just as much. Not to mention, each is a little frightened by what commitment to a man means:
"Sex."
Tokaki flushed red but kept silent. He could hardly deny Gennai's insight after his first aggressive approach to Subaru.
Gennai went on as if he hadn't noticed Tokaki's embarrassment. "It wasn't that I was the only interested party in our relationship. If Yukari had at any point told me, 'Sorry, but I'm honestly not attracted to you, and I wish you would leave my life,' she would never have heard from me again. I'm not the kind of man that forces a woman. But I could tell that she wanted me around; she just wanted me around in a way that wouldn't disrupt her comfortable little life. So every time she told me, 'No, I can't go with you'—I left."
He smiled to himself. "Long enough that she would miss me; not so long that she would forget me. But I always came back."
"I don't know." Tokaki sounded weary and defeated. "I'll be honest with you, Gennai. I'm tired of jumping through hoops at your daughter's whim, especially since it doesn't seem to work anyway."
"Of course it doesn't work! No woman is going to respect a man who rolls over when she snaps her fingers. I'm not saying that you should sell your soul in your desire to please her. If she knows that she can do anything she wants and that you'll always be waiting patiently, you're in for a very long wait, my friend."
"But I thought you said that you always came back, no matter how many times Yukari rejected you."
"I wouldn't say 'no matter how many times.' I had my limits, and each time I left, it was for a little longer period of time. I let her know that my patience was wearing thin. We might have gone on like that for years, but one day, after I'd been courting her for fourteen months, I'd had it. I told her that I was leaving in the morning, and although I would always love her, I would make myself live without her. So she could either join me or say goodbye for good."
"And?"
"And she showed up in my room that night, her possessions in a sad little bundle. Neither of us ever looked back."
Tokaki pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm glad for you, Gennai, but I don't see how this helps me with Subaru. I can't really leave her; we're stuck on this mission together. And after our long history, I can't see why she doesn't—"
"Just fall into your arms? Maybe it's because regardless of her name, she's not the Tamure Doulin you were once married to. And you're not the same man either; Hahm Lanva died ten years ago, right after the Kutou-Konan War. You may share the same souls and memories, but they're in new bodies, newer even than they look. If you want her…if you truly love her, then you'll court her with the same care as if she were an attractive stranger that you've just met. Because she is."
Tokaki was struck by the wisdom in Gennai's words; the same insight that Nuriko had tried to impart that last day in the Konan mountains. If he and Subaru were truly as much influenced by their new souls as their old ones, then her fear of him was not an insult to their long relationship but rather the understandable skittishness of a girl with her first suitor.
One corner of his mouth tilted up. His memories were good for more than just personal regrets; he had a much clearer idea than most nineteen-year-olds as to how to win a woman's heart. One hundred years of experience couldn't be all wrong.
He met Gennai's frank gaze. "A woman is like a fish," he quoted an old Sairou drinking song.
Gennai grinned back. "Reel her in soft…"
"Reel her in hard…"
"But never cut the line and let her go!" they both shouted.
"Come on," said Gennai, throwing his arm across Tokaki's shoulders. "Come up to the house and have some supper before you go to sleep. You never did get to enjoy your mother-in-law's cooking."
"Mother-in-law? Aren't you being a little overconfident?"
"Of the legendary courtship abilities of Byakko no Tokaki? I'll have you know, son, that I'm a cautious man, and I only bet on a sure win."
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Asteroid Belt, Twenty Degress Galaxial North of the ShiJinTenChiSho
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The Way does not belong to things seen, nor to things unseen.
-
The words of the Master flowed through his mind, creating a quiet oasis within the vortex of noise and light that marked the end of his physical existence. He was dimly aware of the shrieking, groaning cacophony around him, and the roaring winds that ruffled his hair, but they existed only as faint murmurs running beneath his trancelike state.
As he meditated, he released the ties that bound him to his earthly existence.
First, his pride: Suzaku no Shichiseishi Chichiri.
-
The Way does not belong to things known, nor to things unknown.
-
In the next plane of existence, it mattered nothing if he had been warrior or peasant, animal or child.
Next, his learning: Monk of Suzaku.
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Do not seek it, study it, or name it.
-
There was no longer any need to seek knowledge; knowledge would be granted him or withheld, depending on his soul's worthiness.
Finally, his identity.
"Houjun."
Yes, Ri Houjun, born poor and fatherless, now to transcend the bonds of his origins and the experiences of his life.
-
To find yourself on the Way… open yourself wide as the sky
-
"Houjun!"
He almost flinched back from the iron grip that seized his shoulder but forced himself to remain calm, using the last of his courage to open his eye and face Death…
…only to see an achingly familiar blue-green gaze staring at him through the darkness of the alien landscape.
"Doctor," he rasped.
"Yes, excellent, you're awake at last, but…"
"Doctor!"
Gratitude flowed through him, gratitude that the gods had granted him this one last vision as he left this familiar existence. The face of his beloved friend; his beloved… He struggled to form words around the lump in his throat.
"Doctor, I know you're only a vision, but…I'm glad that you're here with me. Here, at the end of everything."
The blue-green gaze softened.
"Houjun, there's something you must know—I don't believe in unhappy endings. So listen to me when I tell you, Run!"
In a flash, Chichiri was hauled to his feet and pulled along with tremendous force, practically skimming above the ground in the wake of flying velvet coattails. Before him gleamed a flashing blue light atop a tall rectangular box, while above him screeched the nightmare beasts, the leathery flapping of their wings accompanied by the clash of their metallic jaws. Just on the edge of his hearing was a high-pitched whine issuing from a small silver stick held high above his head.
The nightmare beasts veered off, shrieking, and he found himself diving straight at the closed doors of the blue-lit box. Just as he braced himself for impact, the doors opened and he fell, passing through the shiver of spatial displacement, ending up on his hands and knees on a hard smooth surface. He looked up to see…
…the room that had so often haunted his dreams. It was just as he remembered it: the vaulted ceiling soaring up to blend with the night sky, lit by strange but beautiful patterns of stars. Beneath the starscape, the golden glow of lamplight illuminated the dusky sheen of books and the gleam of myriad devices that ticked as they marked the passing of the hours. Carved wood chairs with thick brocaded cushions clustered around a low table bedecked with a silver tea set, the fragrant steam still rising as tea dripped into a saucer from an overturned cup.
In contrast to the warm domestic setting, one side of the chamber was dominated by a tall glass column roiling with multicolored swirls of light, surrounded by a five-sided console adorned with levers and strange glass dials.
Chichiri pushed to his feet and stood swaying, staring in disbelief, while a figure brushed past him and leaped up to the console, moving with its characteristic combination of manic energy and otherworldly grace. The man's wavy, collar-length hair hid his face as he bent over the console, his hands urgently pushing buttons and pulling levers.
"Doctor."
Chichiri barely recognized his own voice, dry and raspy with disuse.
"In a moment, Houjun. We must dematerialize before they get a firm fix on our energy signature. Come on, old girl, I need…ah yes! Here we go!"
The column rose and fell with a fainter version of the wheezing groan from outside, and the vista overhead soon changed to hypnotic swirls of light twisting in strange helical patterns.
The Time Vortex. The TARDIS.
The Doctor.
Chichiri moved forward, his feet now sinking into the thick oriental carpet, and despite the surreal surroundings, he knew that it was real, all of it—not a dream as so many times before, but as real as the carpet beneath his feet, as real as the man at the console, who at any moment now would look up, and then—
The Doctor lifted his head, and their gazes met.
He was exactly the same; the Doctor's features had not aged a day, in spite of the fourteen years since they had last met. Had it been as long for the Doctor—or half as long or ten times as much, or had any time passed for him at all? No, that last guess was wrong. Even with the TARDIS, it had been years for the Doctor as well. Houjun could see it in the increased sadness in the time lord's eyes, in the depths carved by bitter experiences and time's relentless grasp.
Yet…suddenly it was as if those years had never passed, and Chichiri felt them fall away from him; years in which he'd been the strong, wise celestial warrior, introspective and controlled, guiding and protecting his seishi brothers and miko; years in which, he suddenly realized, he'd tried to be The Doctor for them.
Time fell away, and once again he was only Ri Houjun, lost and sad and alone, except for this one man who—this one man that—
He closed the distance between them, or the Doctor did; he wasn't quite sure which happened. All he knew was that he was grabbing onto fistfuls of velvet and silk, clinging to the slight yet strong frame, pressing his face into brown-gold waves that smelled of sandalwood and ozone and stardust…and being held fiercely in return, trembling hands stroking through his hair as they had so long ago.
But he wasn't crying; he was too old to cry, right? Nor was the Doctor, murmuring broken phrases in the syncopated language of his homeworld. They were just breathing a bit fast, gasping a little, and if their breaths hitched from time-to-time, it was only because they were clinging so tightly to one another.
It rose before him then, sharp and clear and bittersweet: the memory of the last time that he had held the Doctor, their last moments together outside the gates of the old monastery. And he realized that for the first time since that parting, he was once again whole and complete.
He had come home.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Time passed in its usual measureless way within the time machine.
Chichiri didn't know why, but suddenly his surroundings grew dim, indistinct, as if viewed through a veil of thin silk.
He became aware of sitting on a cushioned chair, and the Doctor's face disappearing from his sight. He started in sudden fear.
"No, don't panic, I'm right here, Houjun." A cool cup was placed in his grip. "You must drink, but sip slowly. You're badly dehydrated."
He sipped at the water, chanting a mantra to himself to keep from gulping it. His sleeve moved, and he heard a faint hiss as something cold touched his skin.
"It's just a shot of some electrolytes. As I said, you're depleted, and we can't afford to wait."
None of this mattered to him. All that mattered was that the Doctor was here with him, talking to him, literally within arm's reach. If he could only find his voice, he would reassure the Doctor that he was perfectly all right.
He was all right…until the shaking began.
He didn't notice it at first, but suddenly water splashed out of his cup onto the table, and no matter how he tried to stop, he couldn't seem to control his violent shuddering.
The Doctor was at his side in an instant, muttering oaths in his strange language. Chichiri flushed in embarrassment.
"I…I'm s-sorry, D-doctor, but I…c-can't s-seem t-to—"
"Hush, Houjun, it's not your fault. It's a post-traumatic shock reaction; there's nothing you can do to control it, except—Here, come with me."
He took the Doctor's hand, but his legs stubbornly refused to obey him. Suddenly he felt himself lifted like a child, and he tried to protest, but the room faded away….
Time passed yet again.
He slowly became aware of the night sky overhead, and soft grass beneath him, protected by a thin silk blanket. Winged shapes whirled above, catching the moonlight in strange owl-eyed patterns, and he squinted to focus on…
Moths. Whirling above him in the moonlight, many as large as his hand and colored dull-brown with bright gold-white spots, while others were pale green and luminescent, and still more fluttered tiny, white and fragile, reflecting the light of the stars. In the distance, he heard the hopeful chirp of crickets, while the air around him was filled with the sweet, dusty scent of butterfly wings.
The butterfly room.
He turned slightly, grateful that his tremors had receded. They were still present but less violent, almost reduced to an occasional involuntary shiver. He turned a bit further, wondering—
"I'm still here."
The velvet voice was right behind him, soft and reassuring, and at last Chichiri let go of his tension and allowed himself to relax for the first time in weeks, months, years…
"You received my message, then," he said sleepily.
He snuggled deeper into the body resting at his back, smiling faintly at the chuckle that rose into the night.
"Yes, Houjun, I received your message."
He could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice and feel the warm weight at his back. A wave of comfort washed over him, carrying him so that he drifted off, just barely registering the time lord's last murmur.
"'Whether I still remembered you,' indeed," he chided softly, and then Ri Houjun knew no more.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
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Glossary of Japanese Terms
Gomen nasai – I'm sorry
Itadakimasu – Thank you for the food (an expression of gratitude for food, can be taken either personally or as a blessing)
Ofuda – a piece of paper inscribed with protective spells, usually made by a holy person or priest, used as a charm against evil
Furo - bath; often refers to the traditional Japanese bath in which one washes oneself on a bathing bench, then rinses thoroughly before stepping into a tub of clean water
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Disclaimer: The characters from Doctor Who are the property of the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). I do not own them and do not make any profit from this fiction except for my own enjoyment in spending time with them.
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Author's notes: (8-7-05) A-Ha! My devoted "Bridge" fans have been waiting for that disclaimer, I know—but I chose to be evil and post it at the end instead of the beginning. That way, I wouldn't have you guys rushing past the rest of the chapter just to see the Doctor again. :P
For those of you who have no idea of who the Doctor is—don't worry, I'm not going to make you read the entire saga of "Bridge Over the Abyss." Just accept that he is a very, very important mentor to Chichiri, and a close personal friend. The Doctor is a time lord who travels about in a space-time machine known as the TARDIS. He's technically a humanoid alien (half-human, half-Gallifreyan) who came into Chichiri's life approximately 18 months after the Hikou-Kouran disaster at Suzaku's request. The rest of their unique friendship will hopefully be made clear in this story. So there. Necessary background supplied. Of course, if you want to read "Bridge," I won't stop you, either. :P
Now, I know that I had originally promised more Casting Stones, but due to the endless series of complications in my life, you have been given a new chapter of Hidden Paths instead. Yes, it's been a long wait. Yes, sigh, I am always apologizing and making promises that life has a way of breaking for me.
But there's one thing that I'm being totally honest with you about. I have never forgotten ANY of my incomplete fanfics, and month by dogged month, I promise that I will continue to work on each story in the miniscule amount of spare time that my job and personal life allot me. I have no intention of abandoning any of my works, and the greatest thing is that for some reason, the cast of characters from Fushigi Yuugi has never ceased to fascinate me. And oh god, Watase-san's new Genbu crew is totally fantastic!
Okay, one of my other "eternally undone tasks" is to thank all of my reviewers for all of my fics. I'm sorry to say that I'm hopelessly behind, but maybe I can make up for my rudeness by acknowledging all of you here. So, for the reviewers of Chapter 11:
Fire Senshi and Dragonheart 2, welcome back! Long time, no see! Everqueen, mtgranola, and Poseidon's Chickadee, welcome aboard! Your kind words give me the drive to keep going. And thanks for the "nagging," PC! Keeps my conscience attuned to how I'm (not) writing! Zolac no Miko—Girl, I have dissed you so badly by not replying to your wonderful and always amusing reviews! Thanks for your excited responses to my twisted plot developments, especially the epilogue of Bridge! Nephtyss—wow! Thanks for tracking me from MediaMiner, and for the VERY comprehensive critiques. I hope to enact some of those changes this week. Wingstar/Tenshi—one of my favorites as usual. Glad that I inspired you to dance! Jade Leopard—I'm so glad to see you again! I thought that my teasing of you after Chapter 6 might have frightened you away. LadyLark—welcome aboard! Another friend from MMdotorg. And thanks so much for the inclusion of White Stones on your C2! Since the admin finally decided to allow M-rated fics on C2's, you're the first to include any of my, er, more adult works. Chibi-Kaz—you keep me honest as usual. I always appreciate your astute input. Jessica Wolfe—thanks for being a faithful reviewer. And thanks for the review of The Boat Race, my first Doctor Who-only fanfic. Last but not least—my eternal gratitude to Mouse-chan and Ryuen. You guys rock! (I just hadda say that once in my career!)
Okay, almost done…but I must once more give you a glimpse into the Horrors of Editing Roku! (The last time was after Bridge 18.)
Ryuen was forced to plead with me to reduce the Epic Saga of Gennai's Outdoor Couch. Yes, I've gotten so bad now that even inanimate objects get tragic backstories in my fics. You see, the poor couch was so ugly that it had gone unloved, even though it was a gift from an elderly relative. Consigned to the outdoors, exposed to the elements, the poor unloved couch proved its worth by its amazing sturdiness and comfort. For more angst about the couch's self-image, intimate details on its contribution to the conception of Subaru, and eventual tragic end in the junkman's wagon, please keep an eye out for the side story to Hidden Paths to be called… Hidden Springs: A Couch's Tragic Tale. Rated M for Mature audiences.
Okay, now I'm not the only one to hand out abuse during the beta reading process. Too often do I suffer the slings and arrows of the rapier wit of Purple Mouse. To close this interminable author's note, here's an example of what Mouse-chan wrote, critiquing a simple adjective from the opening description in the Sairou arc.
First of all, my original paragraph:
The workhorses clopped wearily along the streets of the small town that nestled on the borders of the Imperial City. Their iron-shod hooves struck the hard stone paving of the main thoroughfare, generating sparks that flashed briefly before fading in the slanting light. One lone, surly camel loaded with exotic packages paused and lifted its tail, depositing a steaming load of dung before a pile of discarded cargo baskets, then moved on under the crop of its driver.
Now for the Mouse's critique:
re: steaming dung. Is it hotter inside the camel than it is in Sairou, the desert country? Research has shown me that the camel's normal temperature ranges between 94 and 105 degrees Fahrenheit; depending on the season, it may or may not be hotter in Sairou than it is inside the camel. Research has likewise shown me that the average summer temperatures in cities in arid desert places such as Algeria and Iran are 86 degrees Fahrenheit, possibly hotter; even given this, however, is a twenty-degree difference enough to have steaming dung? okay, okay, I'm just being cheeky, but you're just as picky as I am sometimes.
Thank you, Mouse-chan, for the long hours spent googling the internal temperature of a camel and the external temperature of desert cities, just so you could really yank my chain about the simple adjective "steaming"! Cheeky is right! But that's what friends are for, ne?
Thanks again everyone—till next time! And may your chosen deity protect you from piles of camel dung, steaming or not!
Ja ne!
Roku