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 chapter is rated "M" for sexual references, mostly due to the unusual nature of the interactions. There are implications of yaoi (male/male), yuri (female/female), and non-standard sexual situations. If you object to any of the above, I advise you to avoid this chapter.
Acknowledgments: Warm thanks to Shunyata Ryuen and Purple Mouse for their usual excellence in beta-reading under pressure—this time in the midst of preparations for my annual Labor Day barbecue. I couldn't've done it without you, ladies. (bows in gratitude)
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Chapter 13. The Power of Three
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Southern Hokkan
-
The solid click of stone on wood.
A brief, appreciative exclamation: "Ah."
Soft trickles of murmured conversation.
The light, aromatic fragrance of sake, and the clink of tiny porcelain bowls.
Miaka peered around Tasuki's shoulder, unconsciously breathing lightly and quietly, as if drawing a deep breath would disturb the serenity of the room before them. The late afternoon sunlight gleamed through bamboo latticework, casting ornate patterns of light and shadow across the floor, obscuring the outlines of the figures seated within. Hushed and reverent, the atmosphere seemed more reminiscent of a sacred temple…
…than a go parlor in a small town.
However, dim memories of her grandfather's passion for the game reminded her that go, or wei ch'i as the locals called it, was a religion to many of those who played it, a chance to reflect and meditate on art and form while executing a warlike strategy. Go players did not appreciate interruptions, so Miaka tried to quell her impatience, difficult as it was when they needed information so desperately.
The gods must have been with them, however, for at that moment, the clatter of pebbles pouring into wooden bowls signaled an end to one of the matches. Two middle-aged men rose from a table, accompanied by two of their friends who had been watching and commenting softly throughout. They stopped when they saw Tasuki blocking the doorway.
He moved to one side with a polite bow. "Sumimasen…but I was told that someone here could tell me of the Genbu seishi. Would you happen to know—?"
"Ask them," replied the shorter of the two go players as he jerked a chin at another table, then suddenly smirked. "If you dare."
He let out a loud guffaw, his fellows joining in as they left the parlor.
Miaka looked at the two older men seated at the remaining table, still apparently absorbed in their game. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the variegated light, she noticed that they were the last players left in the parlor. Although the previous commotion should have interrupted their concentration, they hadn't even bothered to look up…and didn't seem inclined to do so anytime in the near future. Tasuki had obviously come to the same conclusion, for he shrugged impatiently, then approached the first man, a stocky, broad-shouldered man of about sixty, with a thin fringe of auburn hair around his bald pate and a craggy but good-humored face.
"Excuse me, but—"
The man held up a finger, and Tasuki fell silent. The second man shot him a shrewd glance from beneath heavy black eyebrows. He appeared to be the same age as his partner, but there the resemblance ended. This man was strikingly handsome, with a thick head of grey hair streaked with black and a trim salt-and-pepper beard.
Miaka's thoughts were interrupted by the decisive tap of a white clamshell stone being placed on the board.
"Hmph!" The handsome man leaned forward and studied his opponent's move. "You show little imagination as usual, Daichi-san." His voice was rich and deep, tinged with the rhythmic accent of the north.
"And yet I hold more territory than you," replied the stocky man easily, his comment devoid of malice. "Perhaps imagination is somewhat over-rated."
"Never, in wei ch'i. Artistry is everything. So you seek the Genbu seishi, do you?" He uttered the last statement without taking his eyes off the board.
"Yes."
"Ah, brief and to the point; a novel and refreshing trait in the young." Daichi leaned back, waiting patiently for his opponent's next move. "But why seek out those feeble ones? They would hardly be of use to anyone."
The handsome man snorted. "Unless you have a particular interest in watching some old ji-ji dodder towards the grave."
Tasuki tensed slightly. "I'd expected the people of Hokkan to have learned respect for their sovereign warriors over the years."
The two men burst into loud guffaws. For some reason, their laughter seemed to hold genuine amusement instead of mockery.
"Had you now?" gasped Daichi, wiping tears from his eyes. "Did you hear that, Kigan-san? Respect for those arthritic old goats, as if Hokkan needed them at all! Hasn't the country been safe and secure for the past two hundred years?"
Miaka couldn't help bristling at their mockery of the elderly seishi. She glanced at Tasuki, expecting him to blast them with his infamous temper at any moment—but was surprised to see him gazing at them with eyes narrowed in thought.
Kigan regained control first. "Now, now, Daichi-san, there's no need to slander Uruki and Inami; they manage to get around without much difficulty. But that Namame—there's an old goat if ever I saw one!"
That sent them off into another paroxysm of laughter, until—
"So you know the seishi, then. You can take us to them."
Kigan cocked a bushy eyebrow at the note of command in Tasuki's voice. "Whether I know them or not, what makes you think that I'd obey such a command? You might have some malicious purpose in mind."
"I thought you said that the seishi were useless. If you really believe that, then what difference does it make what my motives might be?"
Daichi grinned at Tasuki's retort. "He has a point there, Kigan. What difference, indeed?"
Kigan leaned toward the board, frowning as he studied it. "True…except that he's old enough to know that one seldom gets something for nothing." His piercing blue eyes met Tasuki's. "Let's barter for my services. Make an advantageous move, and I'll tell you where to find the Genbu seishi. Make that move artistic—and I'll lead you there myself."
"Agreed. But I need a little time to look over the game."
Miaka shifted her feet anxiously, watching as Tasuki carefully studied the busy patterns of black and white stones set on adjacent intersecting lines. Less than five minutes later, he reached into the bowl in front of Kigan, and dug out a black slate pebble. Holding it between the tips of his index and middle fingers, he paused one moment…before setting the stone down with a firm click.
The two players leaned over the board, eagerly surveying the effects of his move. Suddenly Daichi let out a cry of triumph.
"You've chosen a rank amateur to make your move for you, Kigan—because now there's no possible way that you can win!"
"Quiet!" growled Kigan, running through the various strategies in his head. The color rose in his face, and he fixed a furious glare on Tasuki. "Daichi is right: no matter what I do, I can't win this match! How can you call that an advantageous move? If you didn't know how to play the game, you should have--!"
"I know how to play." Tasuki's voice was uncharacteristically mild. "But if I made a competent move for you, the match would've gone on for the next two hours. This move finished your chances—and the game—and so was advantageous…for me."
"Hah!" Daichi rocked back and forth in amusement. "He's right, Kigan; you failed to specify that the move was to be for your benefit! And by the way, the execution of that move was highly artistic, so now you have to get off your ass and act as their guide."
"Fine." Kigan made a show of rising painfully from his seat as Daichi sorted the pebbles into their bowls. "Make an old man do your work for you." The pitiful whine was a complete failure when uttered in those rich, rolling tones. "But at least tell me how a youngster like you learned to play wei ch'i like an enlightened monk."
"Long winter nights spent playing wei ch'i…with an enlightened monk."
Kigan laughed out loud, his white teeth gleaming in his sun-browned face. "Well said—and well done, er…what is your name again?"
"Genrou, and this is my brother Mikirou."
The intense blue gaze was directed onto Miaka, who tried to keep from squirming nervously. She still wore her nomadic deel, but had left off the fur lining due to the warmer temperatures in South Hokkan. Now she half-wished she still had the lining, for Kigan's penetrating gaze seemed to look straight through her.
Suddenly he flashed her a charming smile. "A fine young man, to be sure." He indicated the door. "After you."
"No." Tasuki bowed deeply and respectfully. "After you, Genbu no Seishi Namame."
Daichi laughed but kept his hand near his sword belt. "He's found you out, Kigan! I guess we weren't mysterious enough for him."
Tasuki bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "There are very few men who dare to insult a shichiseishi, no matter how old that seishi might be…and even fewer whose names mean 'unusual rock formation'. Legend has it that Genbu no Namame has the power to manipulate rocks and earth."
Miaka couldn't help staring at Namame. Tasuki had told her that the surviving Genbu warriors were over eighty years old, but this man looked barely sixty! Namame caught her eye and winked, before turning back to Tasuki.
"So how does one as young as you learn the legends of Genbu? Ah, that's right. The enlightened monk, I assume."
"Would you like me to come along, Kigan?" There was a gleam of mistrust in Daichi's eyes.
"No need, old friend. I'm certain that I'll be safe in the presence of those who carry the scent of the Firebird." He smiled at the sudden look of consternation that crossed Tasuki's face. "Don't look so crestfallen, boy. Your ki shields are fine; I was merely told to expect you by one who guards both our interests. No, I'm not going to elaborate on that." He glanced at the angle of the sun through the windows. "I'm late enough as it is."
Daichi followed them out of the go parlor. "Are you sure that you don't need my help? I don't mean against these boys; I'm referring to what awaits you at home." He leaned over and whispered to Miaka. "The only thing that Genbu no Namame fears is Genbu no Inami."
"Fear Inami? Don't be ridiculous, Daichi; the woman is hopelessly in love with me and is the light of my life. Well, one of them, anyway." He grinned at Tasuki and Miaka. "Besides, I'm counting on these two to save my hide."
/-/-/-/
As they rode, Miaka took advantage of her position behind Tasuki to study Namame, who was leading the way on his bay mare. He seemed trustworthy enough, but she couldn't shake a vague feeling of disquiet. For some reason, she felt as if he were about to turn around and encase her in a thick coating of ice, stealing the breath from her lungs and the heat from her body, and filling her with a weariness so bone-deep that she could only vaguely hear Tasuki and the others scream in frustration behind her. Her vision faded on a last image of the Genbu warrior standing tall and transparent, his silver hair falling over his eyepatch, as a voice whispered tenderly in her ear, 'Don't ever lose, Miaka'…
She startled and jerked upright, embarrassed at falling asleep—because she had dozed off, hadn't she? Those strange images must have been dream-induced; for one thing, the Genbu warrior in her vision looked nothing like Namame. For another, Tasuki had automatically reached his hand back to steady her, as was his habit when she grew so tired that she would fall asleep on Makaze's back. She had done that more than once on their frenetic journey of the past few days; first to the north, to the shattered ruins of Mount Gyokuei, then reversing direction to the south, riding as frantically as if the nightmare creatures were breathing down their necks…
…which, in a way, they were. The danger from the beasts was tangible, immediate—and Miaka couldn't help wondering how she and Tasuki would be able to defend themselves from creatures capable of destroying an entire mountain to get at the people hidden within. Memory took her back, unwilling, to that place of snow-covered boulders and obscenely raw earth, to the moment when the desperate hope had faded in Tasuki's eyes, and was replaced by something much colder and lonelier than fear.
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He digs frantically through the rubble, pulling something free, something that twists and ripples in the wind—a blue hair ribbon? She catches only a glimpse of blue silk before he sinks to his knees and clutches it to his heart, head bowed and shoulders shaking.
Her throat tightens as she stands frozen in place, feeling inadequate, intrusive. What can she say or do in the face of his overwhelming grief? What words can she offer that won't sound trite or stupid…or worse yet, condescending, as she pretends to understand the depth of his pain?
But suddenly the world shifts around her, and she does understand, remembering how it feels to have a hole torn in your chest, a hole that pours smoke and flame and blackened bits of twisted metal—and her mind shrieks in horror and loss, until a wash of white static buries the knowledge beneath a blanket of snow.
She gasps for air as if she has just surfaced from the waters of a dark lake, dimly grateful that the wind has torn away the sound of her anguish. She doesn't want to drag him from his own grief, and more than that, she doesn't want him to ask her what's wrong, to probe her memories with his piercing amber gaze.
She doesn't want to remember.
Yet all the same, something has changed inside her, so that she now has the confidence—or is it empathy?—to approach him and gently lay a fur-clad hand on his shoulder. He turns his face only slightly, acknowledging her presence, and she waits patiently until he can find his voice.
"The Refuge…" His voice is husky, ragged with suppressed emotion. "Everything…everyone is gone."
For once, she doesn't say something stupid. For once, her words are wise, acknowledging their only choice.
"We have to keep moving."
-
"Not far now!"
Namame's friendly call jolted her out of her reverie. Makaze snorted, and she patted his hindquarters, silently apologizing for jumping around on his back. She knew that he was weary, although he gamely kept pace with Namame's mare as they climbed the winding mountain path. Miaka wondered what had inspired the Genbu seishi to make their home so far removed from the rest of the town…until they rounded the last curve.
A wide, steep meadow opened out before them, filled with blooming wildflowers, while above them stood an elegant house, nestled against the mountainside and fronted by a veranda of shining wood. A tangle of wild rosebushes covered the hillside, fragrant pink blossoms just making their first spring appearance. The flowers grew above and around the house, giving it the appearance of an enchanted domicile sequestered within a rose arbor.
"It's beautiful!" gasped Miaka, while Tasuki nodded his approval.
"A single man armed with a crossbow could defend this entire area without leaving the veranda," he remarked. "And you're protected at the back by the mountain, and at the sides by the rose thorns."
Namame smiled, indicating the breathtaking vista of the town spread out below them. "I thought that a fellow warrior would appreciate the location. As you can see, very little happens in the town without us knowing about it first."
A movement in the side yard caught his eye. "Ah. Let me show you the real treasures of my home."
He spurred his horse forward a short way, then dismounted in the meadow, holding a finger to his lips. Tasuki and Miaka dismounted quietly and followed him, leaving Makaze to graze on the abundant greenery. A series of muffled thuds reached their ears as they crept around the corner of the veranda and looked into the yard.
A carpet hung from a line strung between two trees, and a woman stood beating the dust from it with a bamboo whisk broom. She wore a colorful kerchief to protect her hair, and although she had her back to them, Miaka could see that she had a lush figure in a perfect hourglass shape, hips spreading wide beneath a ruffled skirt.
Namame crept up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
"Cornuto!" she hissed, jabbing her elbows back and making him grunt in pain. "Bastard! Running off to town and leaving all the work to me and Uruki! Fa schifo!"
"Tesoro mio," Namame purred seductively. "My little treasure, you know that I can never leave you for long. But matters of importance called me to town."
"Matters of importance! No doubt concerning that babbuini Daichi and a flask of sake—and a roomful of old men playing stupid board games!"
"Dolcezza mia, you wound me. And here I've brought back some important guests who are anxious to meet you."
At that, she wrenched out of his embrace and spun around—and Miaka caught her breath at the woman's beauty.
She was tall, perhaps 5'8, with high cheekbones, large, tilted eyes and a full, sensuous mouth. As she pulled off her headscarf, a lush cascade of brown, wavy hair slightly streaked with gray tumbled over her breasts. She had the exotic look of a gypsy queen—and she looked even younger than Namame, perhaps a well-preserved fifty.
Those incredible eyes softened and shone as she looked at Tasuki and Miaka. "Ah, my poor bambini," she cooed, and her voice was honey-rich. "So dusty and tired. Let Inami prepare a room so that you can rest."
She approached Tasuki and shot him a flirtatious glance. "Although this one is no bambino—a man for many years now, I see."
Namame grinned. "Have mercy on him, Inami; he's young enough to be your grandson."
Tasuki took her proferred hand and kissed it. "True…but Lady Inami appears barely old enough to be my sister."
Inami laughed in delight. "You see? Here is a man who knows how to treat a woman! You should take heed, Namame!"
"I would be jealous, except that I know that your heart belongs to me. You adore me and you know it, so flirt all you want, my love."
"Cretino!" she replied briefly but with little anger. "Tell me who these lovely children are."
"They are posing as brothers named Genrou and Mikirou…but I feel that I'm correct in introducing them as Suzaku no Seishi Tasuki and the Priestess of Suzaku."
"Priestess!" Inami rushed forward and took Miaka's face in her hands. "Ah, che bella ragazza! Una cosa preziosa, poor baby, to be chasing around the countryside dressed as a boy! Here, I will make you something to eat, little one; you are far too thin."
"There you go again, Inami, in your endless quest to fatten the world. It's a miracle that Namame and I aren't rolling around like overstuffed pigs."
The voice was smooth and husky, and Miaka looked up to see a woman leaning on the veranda rail, observing them. She was a few inches taller than Inami, and clad in masculine clothes that hung loosely on her slender form. Her ageless features, though far different from the other woman's, were just as attractive, with eyes of clearest jade set in a face of striking bone structure. She had a strong jawline and chin that lent her an androgynous beauty, while her chestnut hair was cropped short near her neck except for one long ponytail bound in ribbon that fell nearly to her waist.
"Ah, Uruki, your timing is perfect as usual. Let me introduce you to my friends, Tasuki of Suzaku and, er…" Namame trailed off, giving Miaka a chance to introduce herself, but her mind was elsewhere.
"Each of you is even more beautiful than the last!" she said impulsively, then blushed at her outburst.
Uruki smiled and moved down the steps to join them, while Inami crowed in triumph behind her.
"You see, Namame? She says that you are the ugly one!"
Miaka was mortified. "Uh, I didn't mean…um, I meant that—"
"Pay no attention to them." Uruki was suddenly right in front of her, lifting her chin with a long, elegant finger. "Their day is not complete unless they have at least fifty quarrels, so don't let them upset you." Her eyes burned into Miaka's with masculine intensity. "And your name is?"
"Yuuki Miaka." Her reply was breathless for some unknown reason.
"Miaka…a lovely name for a lovely girl. Fitting, for our priestess."
Miaka blushed deeply, not understanding why this woman held her mesmerized, but suddenly Tasuki was standing right beside her.
"She's the Priestess of Suzaku, not Genbu." His voice was neutral, but some sort of challenge seemed to be going on between him and the Genbu woman.
"Yet she's the only priestess we have left in our world. Surely she deserves the protection of shichiseishi everywhere, regardless of their patron god." She released Miaka with a show of reluctance but a twinkle in her eyes, before turning to Tasuki. "You know me, Suzaku no Tasuki?"
Tasuki gave a slight bow. "We've never met, but I've heard of you, Genbu no Uruki. Your abilities are…legendary."
"You flatter me," she murmured, an ironic smile gracing her lips.
Tasuki suddenly staggered under the force of a clap on the back fron Namame. "Now, don't get your knickers in a knot, youngster. Uruki's an even bigger flirt than Inami—how else do you think she got both of us?"
"Both of you?" stammered Miaka before she could stop herself.
"Yes, I'm the most fortunate of men, to have the heartfelt devotion of two such extraordinary women." Namame looped his arms around the waists of both women. "Uruki the Fearless, beloved by men and women alike, and Inami the Savage, who stormed into my life from a small tribe of nomadic people who originated from the South."
"The South?" Miaka's curiosity was piqued. "Do you mean Konan?"
"No—nowhere in the ShiJin, I'm afraid. We speak a more civilized language than the one Inami grew up with. Although she has taught me some of the rudiments of her mother tongue…among other things."
"Sei di tek!" spat Inami, hitting him. "Has the sun cooked your brain, that you would bring up such things in front of a child?"
"She's bound to find out anyway, micio, when you both move into my bedroom tonight." He grinned at Tasuki, not at all apologetic.
"Both of us?" Uruki asked, amused.
"Keh!" exclaimed Inami. "What makes you think that you get us both tonight? Is it your birthday? Is it the New Year?"
"No, my loves, but we only have three bedrooms. You can't possibly ask the Priestess to share a bedroom with her warrior."
Miaka opened her mouth to protest that she and Tasuki had been sharing sleeping quarters for a long time now, but stopped when she felt a subtle pressure on her foot.
"We thank you for your hospitality, Genbu no Seishi." Tasuki's tone was unfailingly polite. "And we regret any sacrifices that you make on our behalf."
Namame laughed out loud at Tasuki's irony, then turned to lead them into the house. Uruki strode past Miaka to join him, and she caught a low murmur as the Genbu woman spoke in Namame's ear.
"I'll agree to this, but don't imagine for one moment that you're going to be seme tonight."
Namame laughed again as they entered the cool, dark interior of the house.
/-/-/-/
A loud thunk resounded from the other side of the wall, followed by a burst of muffled laughter.
Miaka sighed, turning over in her bed. She wasn't certain what she had expected from the Genbu seishi, but she definitely hadn't expected this. They seemed to have much more energy and enthusiasm than…well, than was decent in people of their age. One might have expected that after eighty years, the novelty of sex would've worn out for them, but apparently they thought otherwise.
There was a sudden shout, then a hissed spate of words in Inami's language, followed by another eruption of masculine laughter.
Miaka frowned. Why did it sound as if there were two men in the next room instead of one? She shook her head, impatient with herself for even thinking about what was going on next door. The problem was that she couldn't seem to stop thinking about it; the faintly audible erotic moans inspiring equally erotic images in her mind…except that it wasn't the Genbu warriors in her thoughts, but rather her and Tas—
"Stop it!" she hissed to herself. Enough was enough. She was going to end up making a fool of herself with Tasuki if she didn't get up and walk off whatever lewd fantasies had taken possession of her brain. Rolling out of bed, she pulled her trousers on beneath her sleep kimono. She briefly considered pulling on a shirt or maybe her gauze for binding her breasts, but decided against it. It wasn't as if she were going out to pay social calls, and the odds of running into their hosts were slim-to-none, considering how occupied those hosts were at the moment. Besides, it felt good to have her breasts free of restraint for almost the first time since they'd begun their journey.
Wandering down the hall towards the veranda, she absently scratched at her unruly curls, enjoying the lightness and freedom of short hair. It was far different from the tight feeling of the Chinese-style rolls she used to wear on the sides of her head. Odangos, Tasuki had called them, teasing her in his usual way—'Dumpling Head.'
She paused. The memories were coming back to her more frequently than before. There was no point in jumping in surprise each time she regained another one; yet it distracted her enough so that she'd walked across the veranda and halfway down the steps before she tripped over something and went flying headfirst towards the darkness…
…and was caught at the last moment in a strong grip.
"Steady there, Miki. Ya better sit down before you break somethin', like your head or my leg."
She drew in a shaky breath, sitting down on the steps of the veranda. "How did you know it was me? It's so dark out that I can barely see my hand in front of my face."
"Who else stomps me on a regular basis? Besides, everybody else is…busy."
She laughed uncertainly. "So you heard them, too?"
"Hafta be deaf not to. They got a kinda noisy way to have fun."
Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she could make out his form sprawled comfortably across the steps beside her. He had left off his headscarf and wore the loose white shirt and trousers that he habitually slept in. Miaka was glad to see him looking so relaxed, and glad for the return of his bandit accent as well. Ever since Mount Gyokuei, he had unnerved her with his brooding silences and careful, accentless words, his demeanor as cautious and controlled as that of a man crossing a frozen lake, uncertain of the thickness of the ice beneath his feet.
Now that they were safe among friends, he had let down his guard, and she realized how much she had missed his offhand confidence and teasing ways.
"So don't you find it strange the way that they, um, have fun?"
It wasn't a subject she would've chosen to expound on, but she wanted to keep him talking and to hear the cheerful good humor in his voice.
"Strange, 'cause there's three of them instead of two?"
"Well, yes, but not only that. I mean that…well, they're so old; even older than they look. Doesn't it seem a little…squicky to you?"
"Squicky?"
"Um, I meant weird…in a yuck sort of way."
"Yuck? I thought you liked the way they look. You even called 'em beautiful."
"I did—they are. I wasn't talking about physical appearances; I was talking about…age. And what they're doing in there."
Tasuki laughed. "So you think that sex over age forty is, er, squicky?"
Miaka thought about her discomfort when her mother started dating men after the divorce. "Wellll…yeah. Don't you?"
"I used to. 'Course, now that forty's only thirteen years away for me, I ain't so quick ta judge. But it was a few years back when my mind really got changed."
Miaka hesitated, not really wanting to know the answer but unable to resist asking. "Was it…someone you met?"
Fangs gleamed in the faint light. "Yeah, but not in the way you're thinkin'. I didn't get shown the ropes by some mama-san or anythin' like that. It happened when I was travelin' with 'Chir…a friend. We were staying with the Kel—the nomadic people of Sairou that I talked about before. Anyway, there was this tribal chieftain, hadda be over sixty if he was a day, who'd just lost his wife the year before, and found a young, pretty thing ta take her place. Anyway, he and his new wife were in the infatuation stage when we arrived, an'…well, let's just say that they were every bit as enthusiastic as those guys in there. Except we had tents instead'a solid walls."
Tasuki leaned further back, grinning up at the diamond-studded sky. "The thing was, I was my usual pain-in-th'-ass self, even worse back then. Ya know, a typical know-it-all twenty-year-old, figurin' that I had the world by the tail. One night, I was sittin' by the bonfire, an' I made some smartass remark about whether the old guy was capable of satisfying a young woman like that—and he happened ta overhear me.
"The next thing I knew, this curved scimitar was slashing out of the sky an' it landed right here." Tasuki pointed down between his legs. "Just an inch away from making me inta a girl, if ya know what I mean. Anyway, I'm sittin' there white as a sheet, not darin' ta move or even exhale, 'cause that sword edge was close enough ta fray the threads of my trousers. Then the chief leans over me, resting his arm on the hilt real casual-like, smilin' like we were th' best of friends, while I kept my eyes on that blade, praying that he wouldn't tip it towards me, accidentally or not."
Miaka's eyes were wide, and Tasuki laughed at her expression of horror. "Nah, don't worry, Mi-chan; I ain't tellin' ya some tragic tale about losin' my two closest friends. That sword was jus' the chief's way of makin' sure that he had my complete attention—which, believe me, he did. So this is what he said ta me."
Tasuki lowered his pitch and assumed a deep, musical accent. "Young brother, if I had practiced with this sword for the past forty years, and you had picked it up for the first time last year, why would you assume that you had the greater mastery of the weapon? Here is the eternal mistake of youth. The young believe that they are the first to have invented sex—and fail to see the obvious truth that they have been invented by sex."
Miaka let out a peal of laughter. "All right, I admit it! I guess I've been less open-minded than I thought. I promise to stop thinking of 'sex over forty' as squicky. Although the threesome part still amazes me—not that I'm making any more judgments!" she added quickly, not wanting to appear like a prude again. "It's just that…well, Inami-san doesn't seem like the type of woman to share her man with another woman."
"I assume that usually she doesn't hafta."
"Maybe not usually, but I'm talking about tonight. Or whenever they…you know, all three…"
"That's what I was talkin' about, too. I get the feelin' that Lady Inami manages ta be the center of attention, even tonight."
Miaka's eyes grew wide again. "Do you mean that Uruki-san is a lesbian?"
"Lez-bean? What's that?"
"A woman who desires…other women."
"Oh." Tasuki chewed his lip. "Well, I don't know if that's exactly how I'd describe Uruki. That seishi's kinda hard ta…categorize. By reputation, at least."
"So what do you mean? A bisexual?" She answered his questioning gaze. "A woman who desires both men and women?"
"Hmm. That's a little closer, but you're still not gettin' my drift. Don't worry; you'll probably find out what I'm talkin' about sometime soon."
She leaned back on her elbows, mimicking Tasuki's relaxed posture. "So you're not going to explain it to me?"
"Nope."
"Because you like to hold it over my head that you know more than I do."
"Yep. Plus I get to watch you make that monkey-face, where you stick out yer bottom lip an' pout."
"Shut up!" She scowled at him, trying not to laugh. "I do not make monkey faces!"
"Uh-huh. Someday I'm gonna pull out a mirror when you're in the middle of a sulk, and shock the shit outta you." He raised his voice in a falsetto. "Help me, Tasuki! Monkeys! Monkeys are attacking!"
"Shut UP!" She tried to punch him but fell against him instead, dissolving helplessly into giggles. "I don't know why I like you so much, when you're so mean to me!"
"So you like me…huh." His voice had changed, turning husky and hesitant.
She realized that she was leaning into him, her hands grasping his shirt. Tilting her face up, she met his gaze, his eyes faintly glowing with reflected starlight. Somehow his arms had gone around her, and she could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin silk of her sleep kimono. He held her lightly, neither pressing her close nor letting her go.
The pulse beat rapidly in her throat as he moved closer, filling her vision and all of her senses.
Amber and starlight. The scent of sandalwood and sun-warmed skin. Soft puffs of breath, now growing slightly ragged. The silk-muffled heat of his hands.
She parted her lips, her anticipation needle-sharp and sweet. This is it, she thought, her heart hammering in her chest. Once he kissed her, everything would change. Once he kissed her, she would be—
Unfaithful.
The thought stabbed into her from out of nowhere, making her startle and flinch. Just like that, his hands were gone, and she found herself leaning back against the veranda steps, stars blurring in her vision. She blinked, and the stars came back into focus—her unobstructed view of the stars.
Still confused, she turned her eyes to him. He was lounging against the steps in the exact same position as before, his face tilted up towards the sky, as if he had been waiting patiently for her answer all this time.
Had she just imagined that strange interlude? Was it only in her mind that he'd held her in his arms, leaned in close, brought his face close to hers? But then she noticed his hand clenched into a fist, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
No, it wasn't her imagination. And she had hurt him yet again, this time with that insane thought, her inexplicable flinching away from him. What was wrong with her?
She placed a hand on his arm, making him look down at her. "I do like you, Tasuki. A lot. And I don't know why I—"
"That's good, 'cause I like ya too, and it's easier ta be friends if ya like each other." He spoke rapidly, cutting her off. "An' right now, we need all the friends we can get, 'cause we got a hard road ahead of us."
Miaka swallowed, suddenly understanding that he would rather talk about the devastating loss of the Refuge than what had just occurred between them.
All right then.
"A hard road?"
"As hard as I've ever seen in my life, Miki, an' that's sayin' a lot. We got no central power guidin' us the way Taiitsukun used to, an' I can only hope that the Four Gods are still around. I dunno how ta find that out, though, since they only used ta communicate with us through the Old Babaa, I mean Taiitsukun. I'd been hopin' that somehow she'd been in touch with these Genbu seishi, but they really ain't heard from her since before…the attack."
Her mind went back to the conversation around the dinner table, a table so heavily laden with Inami's dishes that even Miaka had to finally refuse yet another helping.
-
"Per favore, ni-ni-niente di p-piu." She stumbled over the strange words as Inami hovered above her with another ladle of noodles, grateful to Uruki for the quick, whispered lesson just before they had been served. "Grazie," she added as an afterthought.
"Ah, questa ragazza intelligente!" Inami crowed. "This is an intelligent girl, to learn the linguaggio poetico so quickly. Are you certain that you don't want any more noodles, dolcezza mia?"
"Non, grazie."
Inami took her seat at last, obviously pleased and flattered by Miaka's fledgling linguistic efforts—and by her earlier appetite. The men leaned back in their chairs, having been defeated by the sheer volume of food long before Miaka had thrown in her chopsticks. Namame smiled at her in appreciation, while Uruki gave her a wink.
"So how did you know we were coming?" Tasuki went directly to the point.
Namame looked up over the rim of his cup. "Taiitsukun sent us a message telling us to be on the watch for you."
"Taiitsukun? When?" Tasuki sat up in his chair eagerly.
Namame shook his head. "Over three weeks ago, I'm afraid. Since then—nothing."
"A strange night, that night," Inami piped up. "I was asleep in my bed, then Boom! Une conflagrazione di stelli!"
"An explosion of stars," Uruki translated. "I felt it as well; we all did."
Miaka turned a startled glance towards Tasuki, remembering how he had cried out in his sleep the second night of their journey. He returned her gaze, his own dark with understanding.
"The attack on the Refuge; that must have been what we felt."
Uruki nodded grimly. "We had heard rumors of the destruction of Mount Gyokuei, but you're the first to confirm it as fact. So the entire mountain has been demolished?"
"Everything."
Namame sighed. "We feared the worst. The next morning, I found this little origami bird on our doorstep." He handed a folded piece of paper to Tasuki. "It's the message from Taiitsukun telling of the attack on you and the Priestess and your warrior priest, but nothing more. We tried to send it back with more questions about the 'star explosions' in our minds, but it returned to us after less than a day with no new information."
Tasuki held the paper close to his nose. "Chichiri," he breathed.
"Your sorcerer-priest?" asked Uruki. "Was he at the Refuge when it was attacked?"
"I don't know." Tasuki's words were heavy with uncertainty and grief.
Namame stood up, his expression dark. "Let's hope he didn't make it back there…because right now, all that we have left is you two and whatever seishi were out in the field at the time of the attack.
"As far as we know—we're all that's left."
-
Miaka looked towards Tasuki. "We're all that's left," she repeated softly.
"Maybe; maybe not. We can't give up hope. We just…we can't."
"So our next move is?"
"I don't know." Tasuki leaned back against the steps again, and she suddenly saw the weariness he had hidden for so long. "I'll think of somethin', but for right now, I just want ta take a day or so ta rest. These guys mighta sounded weak an' fragile from the way that Taiitsukun talked about them, but I ain't sure she's looked in on 'em much over th' past few years. I gotta tell ya, I'm pretty impressed by how strong they are. I trust them ta look after us for awhile."
"Yes, I do too." She impulsively reached out and placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat strong and sure under her fingers. "You should rest now. I know that this has been hard on you—"
"Life's hard." His voice sounded a little breathless, his heartbeat quickening under her touch. "Losin' people you care about is the hardest part of it…but ya can't give up. Ever. I'm not givin' up, Miki; I want ya ta know that."
Suddenly he caught her hand and rose to his feet, pulling her up to join him, and before she even knew what was happening, his hands were at her waist, loosening her belt. Her eyes went wide as she felt his fingers gently trace the edge of one lapel of her kimono, then the other. He held onto both lapels for one moment…then pulled them so that they rested snugly over each other. Tracing his hands back down to her waist, he retied her belt.
"There, that's better." His voice was husky again. "You'll be warmer now. Get ta bed; it's gettin' cold out here."
Her throat was too dry to answer, so she nodded and smiled uncertainly, backing away until she tripped over the threshold. Regaining her footing, she stumbled towards her room, looking back over her shoulder to see him standing, shadowed and enigmatic, beyond the door.
/-/-/-/
What was that all about? What did he mean…what happened—?
The thoughts chased around her head until she grew dizzy. The Genbu trio had finally quieted, perhaps dropping off from exhaustion, but sleep remained out of reach for her as her thoughts turned to the earlier incident.
Why did I flinch away from him? How could I be so stupid? Unfaithful—where did that thought come from? Unfaithful how? Unfaithful to whom?
She closed her eyes as she tried to recall images from high school and college: boys she might have liked, someone special? No, there was no one there but her and Yui, then Keisuke running up, telling them they had to hide as a malignant, triangular head rose above him, and the world exploded in violent scarlet and orange flames—
She jerked awake, gasping, entangled in her sheets. The greyish light of dawn seeped in through the latticed window of her room, and she realized that she had managed to fall asleep despite the confused thoughts that plagued her even now.
Rolling out of bed, she fastened her kimono closed, pausing as she imagined the warmth of his fingers against her skin. A faint clatter from down the hall roused her from her reverie, and she headed towards the kitchen, determined to ask Tasuki what exactly—
She crossed the threshold of the kitchen and stopped short, so shocked that she never felt the door swing shut against her back.
A strange man stood before her, holding the teapot and looking at her as calmly as if he owned the place. He was tall and elegant, and his ageless features held a compelling masculine beauty. His sleep kimono was rumpled, opening over a firm, muscled chest, but further down, his legs were bare, suggesting that he wore nothing else.
He followed the direction of her gaze and smiled, his jade eyes dancing with amusement.
"Ohayo, Miaka."
"Eh…ih?" she managed to squeak out unintelligibly.
"Of course I know your name," he answered her garbled question. "We met only yesterday."
Finally she took in his chestnut hair, cropped short at the neck but with a long, tangled ponytail reaching almost to his waist—and the kanji for "woman" glowing faint green on his chest.
"Uruki-san?"
"That's right."
"But you're a man."
"Some of the time. Other times, I'm a woman."
"Oh, I get it." She met his quizzical gaze, and blushed. "No—no, I don't. I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude."
"Don't worry about it. Very few people can understand it…and I'm fortunate enough to be married to two of them."
"You're married to both Inami and Namame?"
Out of nowhere, she remembered the 'seme' remark that she had overheard yesterday between Uruki and Namame, and suddenly it all made sense. Too much sense. She flushed brilliant red at the mental picture, only dimly registering Uruki's reply.
"Yes; I'm doubly fortunate in that Namame is much more open-minded than he appears. Oh, I don't deny that at the beginning, there were some adjustments we all had to make—but I'm sure you don't need to know about that. Here," he handed her a cup, "have some tea. Your mouth must be getting dry from hanging open like that."
She blushed even deeper, accepting the cup from his hand. "I'm sorry. I must seem awfully stupid to you."
"Not at all." He set the teapot down and lifted her chin between his fingers, studying her face, his own eyes slightly clouded with memory. "You must forgive an old man's teasing. It's just that you remind me of…of…" He shook his head. "You carry the scent of your world, do you know that? And for some reason, it brings a name to my mind. Taki…Taki…" He fell silent, confused.
"Okuda Takiko," she blurted out suddenly.
"Yes, that's it! But who is she? Why do I feel things…echoes…of another life?"
Miaka swallowed hard. His words had brought that name to her lips, but something blocked the rest of the memory. Not only the gaps in her past, but also a dim, urgent feeling within her that she shouldn't say anything more.
"I'm sorry, Uruki-san. I don't know if Tasuki told you, but I, too, have gaps in my memory. I never meant to insult you by refusing—"
"Hush, child, you've done nothing wrong. I understand about your memories, and as for mine…as I said, they're probably echoes of another life; one that's dead and gone." His eyes softened as he looked down into her face, and she was held mesmerized by him once again. "Una bella ragazza, indeed; a very pretty girl, and kind as well."
Her heart beat quicker under his gaze, and suddenly it was so clear how this man-woman could capture the most reluctant of hearts. If she could feel the force of his charisma this strongly now, how irresistible must he have been in his prime?
He flashed a grin as if he could read her thoughts, and gently released her chin.
"Help yourself, cara mia, to anything in the kitchen." Picking two cups of tea, he left the room, Miaka unconsciously following him to the hallway. She watched as he paused before his bedroom door. "Er…I'll see you later, Miaka. I think we're sleeping in this morning."
The words were barely out of his mouth when the door opened, and a slender feminine hand caught hold of his kimono, drawing him back into the room. Soft laughter erupted before being cut off by the click of the closing door.
Miaka retreated back into the kitchen, surprised to find herself smiling fondly. Somehow her embarrassment had evaporated along with her close-minded judgment, and now the Genbu threesome appeared as natural and delightful as any long-married couple. After all, they all obviously loved one another, and what else mattered?
"Uruki! Inami!"
Miaka jumped, startled to hear Namame shout from outside. She raced out to the veranda to find Tasuki and Namame looking out over the meadow below. From behind her, she heard the slam of the bedroom door and the scramble of footsteps as Inami and Uruki joined them, still tying their belts.
Tasuki pointed at a puff of dust rising from the winding road that led to the house.
"Someone's coming."
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Glossary of Terms: (in order of appearance in chapter)
-
Sumimasen – (Japanese) Excuse me
Ji-ji – (Japanese) Old man; old fart (disrespectful)
Ki – (Japanese) life force
-
Cornuto! Fa schifo! – (Italian) Bastard! You're disgusting!
Tesoro mio; dolcezza mia – (Italian) My little treasure; my sweet one
Babbuini - (Italian) baboon
Bambini; bambino – (Italian) children; little boy
Cretino! – (Italian) Idiot!
Che bella ragazza! Una cosa preziosa… - (Italian) What a pretty girl! A precious thing…
Sei di tek! - (Italian) You blockhead!
Micio - (Italian) kitten (endearment)
-
Seme – (Japanese) literally, the one who throws (as in martial arts); sexual meaning: the "one on top"
-
Per favore, niente di piu; Grazie - (Italian) Please, nothing more. Thank you.
Questa ragazza intelligente! - (Italian) This is an intelligent girl!
Linguaggio poetico - (Italian) The poetic language
Non, grazie - (Italian) No, thank you.
Cara mia - (Italian) My dear
/-/-/-/
Author's notes: (9-5-05) Okay, I know what the foremost question is in your mind, especially after scrolling past that extremely lengthy glossary:
What? Is that Italian they're speaking? Why?
Now, I could give you a lengthy dissertation on my version of the Universe of the Four Gods, the composition of its lands and peoples, and how I veer not all that far from Watase-san's version, in which she has more countries than just the major four (remember the land of the killer amazons in the manga?). I could explain that in Hidden Paths, the denizens of the ShiJin each speak their own native or tribal language, but also communicate with "foreigners" in a Common Tongue. I could argue that writing a fanfic in English dealing with characters that speak Japanese while living in a world that looks like Ancient China is a great, big tossed salad of cultures and languages anyway, so why not add one more language to the pot?
But all I'm going to say is this: Inami speaks Italian because I want her to. Because it suits her fiery, gypsy-like character. Because I love the sound of her curses and endearments. But most of all, because that's the way I like it.
By the way, a quick acknowledgment to Adam, with gratitude for the use of his "Wicked Italian" phrasebook—and a promise that I will find a way to use his favorite phrase "In culo alla balena!" in an upcoming chapter of HP.
All right, as for the rest of the Genbu seishi: well, I have a funny (as in peculiar) story to tell. The members of the FY Authors' Group can tell you that I have nearly all of Hidden Paths and its sequel (pretend you didn't read that) already written in my head—the major plot points and characters, anyway. So I started formulating my ideas of what the Genbu seishi would be like back about 2 years ago, around the time of Hidden Paths debut on this site. This was long before I even knew that Yuu Watase was writing a Genbu manga.
I already knew Tomite and Hikitsu from the anime of course, and a little of Urumiya and Hatsui from OVA 1. But what would Namame, Inami, and Uruki be like? Due to the fact that Uruki (sex unknown) had the seishi symbol for "woman," I thought it would be cool if she were a woman who transformed into a man. I also imagined that her power would be the power to manipulate wind; this was influenced by battle scenes that I had pictured later in HP that would require a wind-user. Namame I saw as a powerful man who would throw a weapon that looked like a bolo but actually consisted of large rocks at each end—so he would be a sort of rock manipulator. Inami became a woman in my mind, whose seishi power would be winter-weather manipulation, like calling up a blizzard of snow and ice to whip into enemies' faces.
Okay, imagine my shock when I finally got hold of online translations of the Genbu saga less than a year ago—and found out that Uruki was a man who changed into a woman (much better and less sexist than my version I think; I really love the thought that Uruki becomes more powerful when he is a she. :P) and is a wind-user; and that Namame really does manipulate stone and earth, although my version of him is vastly physically different than Watase-san's. Inami has not yet made an appearance in the Genbu manga, so I'll have to wait and see how far I'm off the mark with that canon character.
Freaky dovetailing of ideas, though, huh? I'm trying to keep as much as possible to the canon Genbu manga (which is difficult, especially since I'd had no idea that Uruki was going to be the romantic lead for Takiko), but because the whole thing isn't published yet, any differences in characterization will have to be written off to reincarnation, I suppose. Well, all right, I'm fairly certain that the, ahem, relationships I've depicted here aren't going to be canonical either, but that is what I call artistic license. :P
One last word on the Genbu seishi. I must acknowledge my debt to Kryssa, who very kindly solved a dilemma I was having with Inami's name. You see, half the FY reference sites use the name "Iname" and half use "Inami." I looked up a site particular to Chinese astrology with no link to FY to act as tie-breaker, and they called the constellation "Inami." However, they also used the name "Umiyame" instead of "Urumiya." I mentioned my dilemma to Kryssa, who used her knowledge of kanji AND went out and bought a Japanese-only version of the FY manga to show me that the part in the book that depicts all 28 constellations does indeed use the names "Inami" and "Urumiya" for the Genbu constellations. My deepest gratitude, Kris!
Speaking of acknowledgments, I failed utterly in the author notes to Chapter 12 to acknowledge the novelist Kate Orman as the creator of the butterfly room in the TARDIS (although the nighttime version of it is my own mental fantasy.) I also failed to mention that the words of the Master that Chichiri meditates upon while waiting for death are an actual Buddhist koan, and therefore not my own creation.
But before I get reported for "quoting words I haven't written," I'd like to point out that Buddhist koans, being way older than the "fifty-year rule," aren't covered by copyright laws. As the rest of you probably know how I feel about this particular site restriction (which unfortunately goes along with a great many more, including one that reviles the use of asterisks), I don't need to go into it here. All I'll say is: In culo alla balena! :P
Okay, back to pertinent info. Due to a funny way I have of writing chapters piecemeal, or even backwards, I'm pleased to tell you that it will not be another several-month wait for HP 14. In fact, almost 75 percent of this chapter is finished and beta'd, so I hope to post it just a couple of weeks hence. Also—well, it has been brought to my attention that authors are being drawn-and-quartered for replying to their reviewers, so to keep my account intact, I will merely say: To All It May Concern: (and you know who you are :P): Yes, it is indeed a daunting task to juggle so many plotlines and characters, and at the same time try to establish a feeling of story continuity on a linear timeline. I will continue to do my poor best, however, and ask you to remember that certain timelines (such as the Tokyo arc) are proceeding at a much slower pace than the events in the ShiJin. I make a promise to all of my readers, however—it gets simpler as all of the plots pull together! Really! Unfortunately…it's going to be a while before that happens.
Until next time!
Arrivederci, baby! Ciao!
Roku