Hidden Paths on a CloudCast Night Chapter 14: Waves of remembrance, a fushigi yuugi fanfic

Disclaimer: The characters from Fushigi Yuugi are the creations and property of Yuu Watase and related enterprises. 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 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.

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Chapter 14. Waves of remembrance

Southern Hokkan

Miaka leaned over the veranda, attempting to get a clear view of the riders approaching on the winding mountain road, but found herself firmly pulled back. Namame released her shoulders and shoved her gently towards Tasuki.

"Best get her inside, Tasuki, and arm yourself. I doubt they've seen either of you yet, but let's not take chances. Uruki, Inami—we have perhaps five minutes. Armor and weapons; I'll meet you back here."

Gone were the light, flirtatious teasing and good-natured jokes; in their place was the grim focus of seasoned warriors. Uruki and Inami vanished into their room without wasting breath on a single question, while Tasuki and Miaka hurried along in Namame's wake until they reached Miaka's room.

"Get her outfitted, lad, and yourself as well. You might be havin' to make a quick exit."

Miaka pulled on her trousers and snatched up her chest-binding gauze. Turning her back to the two men, she dropped her sleep kimono, pushing modesty aside in favor of speed. Tasuki stepped up and began wrapping her swiftly while talking to Namame.

"So you're certain that they're not friends?"

"Nay, I wouldn't say certain, but I'm not expectin' anyone today, and I don't like their timing. They're too close on your heels for my peace of mind, and I'd rather play it safe. So gather your things, and I'll show you our back-up plan."

In less than a minute, Miaka was fully dressed, and Tasuki had retrieved their saddlebags and packs. They followed Namame to a storage room in the back of the house. It had a single window opening out on the mountainside, showing a patch of brightening sky and the bramble-covered mountain.

"Out there," Namame pointed to a barely visible opening in the tangled thorns, "lies a path leading to a tunnel that'll take you clear to the other side of the mountain, if need be. Lanterns right at the mouth of the tunnel, and a couple skins of water." He smiled at Tasuki's nod of appreciation. "From my younger days; I used to be able to move a great deal more earth and stone than now. Anyway, you should be able to hear some of what is going on, and if it turns the worse for us, you two be on your way."

He shook his head at Tasuki's frustrated expression as he gripped the tessen. "Nay, lad, you know damn well that your primary responsibility is to our Priestess. You make sure she's safe before you get any fine ideas aboat avengin' us. 'Course, I'm not a'tall intendin' ta roll over and die for the pleasure of our enemies."

Suddenly the enormity of the situation struck Miaka. These people that she had met less than a day ago—these people were ready to fight to the death for her. Inami, Uruki, Namame…what had she done to deserve their loyalty?

"Namame-san," she choked, reaching for his sleeve as slow tears rolled down her cheeks.

He gently removed her hand. "Dinnae cry, Miaka; there mayn't be any danger a'tall. But any road, 'tis a fine thing for a seishi to do battle for his priestess, an honor we've not had in this lifetime. So although you might not be Priestess of Genbu, for our purposes," he lifted her chin and smiled down at her, "you'll do, lass."

"Namame!" Uruki's shout held a warning note.

"Must go." Namame held up a warning finger to Tasuki. "Remember, lad—listen and run. Nothing more."

He turned and ran back to the others, as Tasuki closed the door nearly all the way, leaving only a crack open to listen.

"What business have you with us?" Namame's bellow resounded from the veranda. The reply was too faint to reach their ears but at least was free of the thwack of arrows against the house.

"Who might you be to carry such a message, then?" he challenged them again.

There was a brief pause.

"Is that so? Then prove it!"

Miaka tugged at Tasuki's sleeve. "Can you tell what's going on? I can only hear Namame's side of the conversation."

Tasuki leaned closer to the door. "Uh-uh, I can't make out what they're saying but right now, the tone isn't exactly hostile. Wait…Uruki is saying something to Namame about letting them approach closer."

"How many of them are there?"

"I don't know. I only saw two riders, but maybe there were more further back."

Namame's voice interrupted them once more. "Fine. You seem to be what you claim, but you still haven't answered the question. What do you want with us?"

Now the reply was slightly more audible, fragments of the answer drifting to the back of the house. It sounded like a young man's voice.

"…isn't safe…enemy…you must come with us."

"Come with you? Where? And whatever for?" Namame sounded bewildered.

The riders were obviously approaching, although slowly, for the voice grew more distinct by the moment.

"…enemy…seeking out the weak ones…might be here next…"

"Weak!" snarled Inami, incensed. "Che inciviltà! These children need some manners!"

Suddenly a second voice rang out. "Stop being so stubborn! We've come to help you, dammit! Oof!" It sounded as if something had hit him.

"Stubborn are we?" Namame's voice wavered between anger and amusement, his strange accent growing more pronounced. "'Tis you that comes breengeing up here, thinkin' ta lay down the law to a bunch of fusty old folks. Well, I've news for you, ye bampot bairn! We're not aboat ta leave our home on the command of some wet-behind-the-ears pup!"

"You barmy old coot, we're here to protect you!"

"Protectin' us, are ye?" cried Namame. "Tell me then, laddie, who's goin' ta protect yer erse from us?"

There was a whooshing sound like a gust of wind, followed shortly by a dull thud as a body hit the ground.

"Ow! Dammit!"

Inami crowed in triumph. "Alé, Uruki tesorini! That's the way to teach these rude children how to speak to their elders!"

Miaka turned a worried gaze to Tasuki, only to see him nearly bent double in paroxysms of muffled laughter. Gasping for control, he slid the tessen back in its holster and pulled his headscarf off.

"C'mon, Miki, we'd better get out there and break up the family fight before either of my friends gets hurt."

"Friends? You know those people?"

"Yep, pretty well. Well enough to know that things can get worse if someone don't put a muzzle on them right quick."

Before she knew it, she was following him through the house, running to keep up with his swift strides. Once on the veranda, they were greeted with a strange sight: two young men ducking behind their horses as snowballs whizzed at them from out of nowhere. They reacted to Tasuki's appearance with relieved shouts.

"Tasuki! Thank Genbu you're here!"

The snowballs dropped to the ground as Inami turned around, abandoning her sport as she stared in surprise at Tasuki, seeing him for the first time without his headscarf.

"Che bello! I didn't know this, that you were un testa rosso, cara mia!"

Removing her hand from his locks, Tasuki kissed it gallantly. "In a moment,my lady. First I have to straighten out my friends."

He signaled the young men to approach under Namame's wary eye. All three of the elder seishi were in battle armor, black breastplates and shoulder guards edged in green, and Miaka couldn't help but catch her breath at how impressive they appeared. She looked over at Uruki sitting on the rail in her feminine form, apparently relaxed but still keeping one hand on a strange weapon that looked like a flat disc with razor-sharp edges.

The blond responded immediately, walking over to the veranda while brushing snow from his blue coat, but the dark-haired youth took a few moments to locate his fur hat before following.

Tasuki waved a hand towards them. "I think it's time you were properly introduced. Genbu no Namame, Uruki, Inami, these are Genbu no Urumiya and Genbu no Hatsui. They're my friends from Mount Gyokuei."

Urumiya bowed respectfully, but Hatsui waved his hat in annoyance. "That's right! Tell them, Tasuki! Tell these recalcitrant old fools that Taiitsukun told us we were to—"

"I won't say anything as half-assed as that, ya dumb shit! If ya know what's good for ya, you'll shut yer trap, bow politely, and beg forgiveness from these honorable elders for your temporary fit of extreme stupidity!"

Constrained at last by Tasuki's sharp reprimand, Hatsui bowed as ordered, muttering Gomen nasai, while Urumiya jabbed him with an elbow, hissing, "I told you so!" under his breath.

At that moment, a shrill cry echoed across the sky, and a dark brown form plummeted towards Urumiya. Without even blinking, he extended his leather-gauntleted arm, and a large brown-and-black steppe eagle landed lightly on his wrist. It cocked its head and peered keenly at the group through dark brown eyes offset by a yellow-edged beak.

"Ah, Kasen," Tasuki said, reaching out to stroke its dusty brown feathers. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to." He turned back to the elder seishi, looking at Inami who was muttering under her breath, angry at having been startled by the eagle. "Namame-san, Inami-sama, Uruki-san; I'm sorry for my friends' earlier rudeness, but I ask your hospitality for them; maybe the barn…"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Namame was suddenly expansive, throwing his arms around the women's shoulders. "They're our seishi brothers, aren't they? We'll just have to move the priestess in with you, Tasuki, so that you can look after her, and I'm certain that Inami and Uruki won't mind sharing my room for another few nights."

Uruki burst out laughing along with Miaka, while the younger seishi looked confused. Hatsui, however, fixed Miaka with an interested gaze. "Priestess, huh," he began but was interrupted with a sharp poke to the ribs.

Inami was glaring at him. "Just look at these bambini idiota, they are too thin! Chasing around the country, thinking they're so intelligente but probably forgetting to even feed themselves! Shut up and come inside; I will make food!"

Hatsui and Urumiya hesitated, unsure of what to make of Inami's angry tone, but Tasuki shoved them towards the door.

"Go on in; don't you know an invitation when you hear one?"

/-/-/-/

Brunch was another massive affair, with Inami creating even more dishes than the night before. Only Miaka was allowed into the kitchen with her, and her duties were limited to peeling and cutting up vegetables or occasionally stirring a pot. Inami was the true magician of the kitchen, pounding meat into tender strips, cracking eggs, flinging around flour and spices in random handfuls or pinches, all of this performed so quickly that Miaka could barely keep up. Deep woks of hot oil sizzled, waiting for thin slices of poultry or lamb to be flung in and swept up in a mad dance with vegetables and sauce, while pots of noodles and rice simmered on the huge iron stove. Garlic was used sparingly, onions and ginger generously, and a flask of soy sauce tipped constantly, its contents frequently mixed with a dash of sugar and spice.

At last, they carried the huge plates of food to the rough-hewn table around which the men and Uruki were clustered. Kasen the eagle had flown off to the barn to hunt down mice for his own lunch, while Hatsui and Urumiya waited with barely concealed anticipation.

Inami moved around the table, ladling out food while muttering imprecations under her breath in her native tongue. She was obviously still incensed by the younger seishi's earlier insults, and she grumbled louder as she served them, although Miaka noticed that she didn't stint on the amount of food she piled on their plates. Uruki, still in female form, smiled at Tasuki, who was looking at his heaping plate in despair, obviously wondering how he was going to put away enough food to avoid insulting their hostess' cooking.

"Here, Miaka," Uruki said kindly, exiting her seat. "Why don't you sit next to Tasuki, and I'll sit over there?"

Miaka sat down eagerly, while Tasuki shot Uruki a grateful glance, realizing that he would be able to slip some of his portion to his ever-hungry priestess. Inami had just taken her own seat around the crowded table when Hatsui took a bite of a sesame-seed encrusted piece of ground lamb.

"Genbu be praised!" he burst out, then tears filled his eyes.

"Oh, there should not be pepper in that lamb!" Inami exclaimed. "Drink water, quick!"

"No, that's not it," choked Hatsui. "It's just that I haven't had this dish since my baa-chan died—and even hers didn't taste as good. I haven't had food this wonderful in years!"

Inami puffed up. "Of course you haven't, sciocco bambino! What do they know, these innkeepers who serve you food? Dried up meat and overboiled noodles—and they think to call themselves cooks!"

She went on scolding but rose from her seat to slide a few more pieces of lamb onto Hatsui's plate, mixing in endearments with her imprecations. Miaka smiled at Tasuki around a mouthful of dumplings, and the table soon grew loud with cheerful conversation and the clink of ceramic cups and plates.

It was a happy family atmosphere, thought Miaka as she worked her way through two helpings of every dish, and she didn't know why it seemed so familiar. After all, dinners with Keisuke and her mother were quiet, at times even strained if her mother was in a mood.

But this—this seemed right, somehow. She could almost hear familiar voices shouting at her to leave some food for the rest of them, while servants hustled dishes through the long, elegant dining room. Violet eyes mock-glared at her across the table, while Tasuki traded insults with someone sitting to her left, someone she couldn't quite…see.

Miaka blinked, and the room came back into focus: the Genbu house, not the Imperial Dining Room in Konan. Another memory, she thought, and for a moment was caught up in wistful regret for the happy times lost in her sealed-off past.

"Dolcezza mia," Namame announced loudly, startling Miaka from her introspection. "Another masterpiece of your culinary skills! Sono il tuo schiavo!"

"Sciocco!" Inami replied, but a smile curved her lips nonetheless. "You want more? Any of you?"

There was a chorus of frantic denials mixed in with compliments and groans of being overstuffed. Namame and Tasuki helped Inami clear the table, and at last they were seated again around steaming cups of fresh tea.

"Now that we're all here," Namame began, "it's time that we put our heads together and figured out what's going on. This Enemy's got us fair clagged in, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm right weary of it! Unless we make a real plan of attack, we'll be fightin' defensively, as hobbled as if we were sunk in mud up to our knees. But we can't make a plan without sharing whatever information we've got." He waved a hand at Hatsui and Urumiya, who in turn nodded politely at Inami and Miaka.

Urumiya took the conversational lead. "While you ladies were in the kitchen conjuring up that wondrous meal, Namame, Uruki, and Tasuki caught us up on what you already know: the attack on Mount Gyokuei, which we had sensed as well. We were out in the Hokkan hinterlands, Taiitsukun having sent us on assignment almost right after Tasuki and, er…" He glanced at Miaka, suddenly hesitant.

"Chichiri." Tasuki's voice was firm. "I know that I told ya not ta mention any of the other Suzaku seishi in front of Miaka, but we can't keep avoiding 'Chiri's name. Besides, I mentioned him yesterday when talkin' with Uruki, Naname and Inami, and it didn't seem ta trigger any unforeseen memories in her." His gaze suddenly narrowed in warning. "But 'Chiri's the only one we can mention—nobody else, got it?"

The other seishi nodded, while Miaka fought back resentment at being discussed as if she were invisible or incapable of understanding. Maybe it was inevitable that they would treat her as a child, since every seishi seemed to feel responsible for her safety. However, that train of thought derailed when a strong feeling suddenly took hold of her: nostalgia for someone who had always treated her with respect, someone who…understood her?

A vision suddenly rose before her—not distant and faraway, but recent: a face in the darkness, the far-off screech of nightmare beasts, light reflecting in a single eye. Hold on tight, Miaka—and Suzaku's blessings be on you both!

"Chichiri!" she said under her breath.

Finally realizing that the room had fallen silent, she looked up to see Tasuki's anxious gaze fixed upon her. Everyone was staring at her in concern, watching the play of emotions across her face. She flushed guiltily.

"Ummmm…Chichiri." She drew a finger across her left eye, trying to downplay her emotional reaction to his name. "A scar, right?"

"That's right!" Hatsui broke in with strained cheerfulness. "The one-eyed magician of Suzaku! One hell of a great guy, and one of the only two Suzaku warriors that…." He broke off under Tasuki's warning glare. "Um…a great guy," he repeated lamely.

Urumiya cuffed him lightly. "Shut up, baka, and let me do the talking. At any rate, as I was saying, Hatsui and I were out in the East Hokkan when we felt the same "star explosion" as the rest of you. And just like Namame, the next day we found the origami bird telling of the attack on Tasuki and Miaka and Chichiri, so we headed toward the North Road to see if we could intercept them. But from what Tasuki told us, you two were nowhere near there—and a good thing you weren't."

Tasuki sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

"We weren't the only ones looking for you. A few travelers who seemed trustworthy enough to talk to—well, they told us that they'd been asked the same questions just before we got to them. They said that someone was looking for a red-haired man or a blue-haired man escorting a girl. They'd been asked if they saw anyone with 'unusual powers' like shooting fire or casting spells."

"Could the travelers describe what this 'someone' looked like?"

"No; there seemed to be different people doing the questioning. Some were hard-assed slavers or bandits, others ordinary, nondescript merchant-types--but they had one thing in common: they were looking for either you or Chichiri escorting the Priestess. They knew who they were looking for, although they obviously didn't know you personally."

Another silence fell as the seishi pondered the implications. Tasuki blew out a breath.

"'Chiri was right then, warning me off the main road. It's good ta know that it was worth goin' hungry for a short while, wandering way out in the steppes. But I woulda expected you and Hatsui to have beaten us here, considerin' that we were delayed even more by goin' ta Mount Gyokuei."

Urumiya shook his head. "We were concerned when we couldn't make contact with Taiitsukun, but we had a mission other than catching up with you and our Genbu brethern. Taiitsukun had sent us out based on information given her by Uruki, Inami, and Namame that something seemed wrong in the south of Hokkan; specifically, in the land owned by Lord Shijo."

"Shijo?" Tasuki rubbed one temple thoughtfully. "I seem ta remember…wasn't he the jumped-up noble that was trying ta stir up war between Hokkan and Sairou? But I thought that he died after an initial border attack—dysentery or somethin' from bad water in the field."

"You're right; that was Shijo Taro," Uruki replied. "Originally, he was just a commoner from a rich merchant family called Odoro; mineral dealings were how they achived their wealth, I believe. But through clever political maneuvering, he managed to buy out the name and holdings of an impoverished noble family called Shijo, and even got the Emperor to agree to it. His personal obsession was worrying about Sairou's relative strength, although I think he might have been after their resources as well. Idiot that he was, he should have known that their borders were still under the protection of Byakko. He died a bad death, and although some say that Byakko had nothing to do with it, I personally detect a celestial sense of humor—or vengeance--in having Shijo die squatting over a cesspit rather than in the midst of battle."

Namame interrupted the muted snickers from the younger seishi. "It's the son, Shijo Ujitada, who's stirring up the current trouble. He's canny enough not to be charged with treason; truth be told, he seems to be a special favorite of the Emperor for some unknown reason, although," he cocked an eyebrow suggestively, "there are always rumors."

"Traditore!" spat Inami. "Serpente!"

"Now, now, cara mia," Namame patted Inami's hand. "Snake he may be, but we can't prove traitor, especially when he's in such high favor at the Imperial Court. I fear the opposite: that he is convincing the Emperor to support his mad claims against Sairou—which would then make those of us who are against this war appear traitorous. The Emperor has been strangely unavailable to hear the concerns of the Monks of Genbu, a development which worried us enough so that we sent the warning to Taiitsukun."

"Has Shijo got his head completely up his ass?" Tasuki asked, incredulous. "How can he hope to invade Sairou, with or without Imperial support, when Sairou's borders are still under the protection of the Byakko no Miko's wish?"

"Because he's found a way around it." Everyone looked up at the unaccustomed seriousness in Hatsui's voice. "While Urumiya and I were scouting around the borders of the Shijo holdings, we picked up on some rumors that were spreading in the smaller villages; rumors of flying black beasts that seemed to appear and disappear in the vicinity of Shijo Castle. Yet the castle itself never seemed under attack, so we have to assume that there's an alliance at work. And if they're allies…well, we already know that the Enemy can cross over into Sairou; we've just encountered them there in the past few weeks, when they attacked the reborn seishi."

"Genbu curse him to Hell!" burst out Namame. "D'ye mean that yon mingin' erse is barmy enough ta ally with the Enemy, and drag in the Emperor as well? If either edjit imagines that th' houghin' Enemy won't double-deal him in th' end, his erse is oot th' windae!"

The younger seishi and Miaka exchanged confused looks.

"He said, 'If that stupid ass Shijo is crazy enough to ally with the Enemy, and if either he and the Emperor are idiot enough to imagine that the filthy beasts won't doublecross them, then their asses are out the window…which means that they are unlikely to achieve their objective." Uruki leaned back with an ironic smile. "I'm used to translating for my partners," she explained in her pleasant, husky voice.

"Brilliant as well as beautiful!" Hatsui exclaimed, looking at Uruki's agelessly exquisite face. "Tell me, Uruki-sama, have you ever been attracted to younger men?"

Namame cleared his throat. "Nah then, youngster, it's usually considered a wee bit unmannerly ta proposition a man's wife under his own roof. Imprudent as well."

The twinkle in his eyes belied his stern tone, and it was all that Miaka could do to keep from bursting into giggles as she thought of Uruki's alternate identity.

"But…but…I thought that you were married to Lady Inami!" Hatsui was scarlet with embarrassment.

"Both of them, lad; I'm married to both of them."

"Oh. Um. Well, in that case, I apologize. A lot. A whole, whole lot!"

His apology didn't save him from a cuff to the head by Urumiya.

"Getting back to the point," he glared at his abashed partner, "that's why we decided to ride up here, to make sure that the Enemy wasn't catching you three unawares. It was an added relief to find Tasuki and the Priestess safe with you as well. But the question is…safe for how long? Do Shijo and his accomplices know of your identities?"

"Hard to tell," answered Namame. "We've been around a long time, longer than his family, and perhaps we've been forgotten over the years. But even if he knows of us, it's likely that he writes us off as a group of 'recalcitrant old fools,' and doesn't spare us much thought."

Hatsui flushed at Namame's pointed remark. Tasuki took pity on him and diverted the subject.

"So where does this leave us? We hafta decide what to do next."

"Gathering information is our first priority," Uruki said, flashing a mischievous smile at Hatsui that made the young seishi blush even deeper. "We have friends in town that will act as our eyes and ears, and we need only to get word out to them to watch for any suspicious strangers."

"It seems that one of them is already on the lookout." Urumiya rubbed his neck gingerly, as if touching a bruise. "A man called Daichi took exception to me asking about the Genbu seishi, and Hatsui and I had to prove our identities before he would let us go."

"Hah!" Namame was highly amused. "So Daichi gave a couple of shichiseishi a hard time? That's just like him!"

"Punto e basta!" Inami slammed both palms on the table and stood up, signaling an end to the discussion. "So we watch and we wait, that is all! But now, I have a house that needs cleaning and clothes that need washing, and you!" She pointed an accusing finger at Namame, who was sidling towards the door. "You will go out and chop wood with il testa rosso. We need many fires tonight, for cooking and for sleep rooms."

"But, tesoro mio, someone needs to go and inform Daichi and our other friends of the new developments."

"Uruki will do it," answered Inami shrewdly. "She at least will come home while the sun is still high…and she will not stink of saké when she returns."

Defeated, Namame grabbed Tasuki's arm and stomped dejectedly towards the back, while Inami drew Miaka close by her side.

"Wait and see, ragazza mia," she murmured conspiratorially. "The sun grows strong and the men will grow hot as they chop…and then they will remove their shirts. A beautiful view we will have then, no?"

She laughed at Miaka's suddenly flushed face.

/-/-/-/

The sun had set long before all of the chores were completed. Inami took advantage of having three additional men and a young woman around the house to institute a full regimen of spring cleaning. Goose-down quilts were fluffed and aired out, linens washed and hung on the line, rugs shaken and beaten, floors polished, window shutters cleaned, and cracks repaired.

True to Inami's prediction, Tasuki and Namame had shed their shirts while chopping enough wood to last halfway through the next winter. Inami accompanied Miaka with a bucket of cool water and a dipper to refresh the men, and while Miaka was busy trying not to stare at the display of male physiognomy before her (Namame had evidently retained his muscle tone through his wife's relentless assigning of chores), Inami craftily stole Tasuki's shirt.

So the Suzaku seishi was forced to go bare-chested for another few hours while Inami claimed to be washing all of the men's shirts. In the interim, she kept coming up with chores for Tasuki and Miaka to do together, including searching the nearby woods for tender dandelion shoots and a type of green onion that grew only in early spring. Miaka felt grateful that Tasuki hadn't seemed to notice Inami's heavy-handed matchmaking stratagems—or at least he hadn't commented on them.

She sighed, leaning back against the veranda steps in the same position as the night before…and with the same companion as well.

"I feel like I'm never going to move again," she confessed to Tasuki. "And I'm not sure if it's because of all the work we did today, or that gigantic dinner Inami prepared."

"Are ya really complainin' about too much food?" Tasuki cast an accusing glance in her direction. "Who are you, and what didja do with Miaka?"

Miaka giggled, glad to feel so at ease around him, despite the fact that he had caught her sneaking some peeks at him in the woods, and despite…last night. Against her will, her thoughts turned helplessly back to the same questions from the previous night.. Why did he touch me like that? What did he mean by it? What do I mean to—

The door slammed open behind them. "Oi! We damn near tripped over you two! What are you doing out here?"

"Same as you, I expect." Tasuki tilted his face towards Urumiya and Hatsui, flashing a fangy grin. "Unless you have a different reason for being sleepless."

"Kuso!" exclaimed Hatsui. "At first we thought, Okay, maybe half an hour. But they kept going at it, and then it was an hour. And then another half-hour went by, and we said, the hell with this, let's take a walk!" Suddenly he realized whom he was complaining to—and what about. "Oh! I apologize for my language, Priestess, and for talking about, uh…"

Miaka laughed. "Don't worry about it, Hatsui; Tasuki and I were kept awake by them last night, so you're not shocking me. And please call me just Miaka, since we're already friends."

Hatsui sat down on the veranda near Miaka, obviously charmed by her friendly manner, while Urumiya took a seat on the rail.

He impatiently pushed his blond bangs out of his eyes. "So they were at it last night, too? You have to hand it to Namame; he's sure got a lot of energy for his age."

"Oh, I wouldn't give all the credit to Namame," Miaka remarked mischievously. "He has some help in there, I believe."

Hatsui gave a whistle of admiration. "I agree completely, Miaka! Those are some fine women he's married to. Yes, they might be older than me by a couple of decades…"

"A couple!" snorted Tasuki under his breath.

"…but they still look beautiful. What I wouldn't give to be in Namame's place!"

Miaka went off into peals of laughter, making Hatsui smile uncertainly. "Did I say something funny?"

"You'll find out in the morning," Tasuki replied comfortably. "Obviously you weren't paying attention when Chichiri was tellin' us 'bout the ages and powers of the older Genbu and Byakko seishi. Just remember this: be careful what you wish for."

Both of the younger Genbu looked confused, until suddenly Urumiya's eyes went wide, and he smacked a hand into his forehead.

"What?" asked Hatsui, startled.

"Nothing," said Urumiya, taking in Tasuki's wink. "Just don't proposition Uruki anymore, okay?"

"I wasn't going to!" protested Hatsui. "She's married, I know that already!"

"You don't know the half of it," Tasuki muttered to Miaka, sending her off into another fit of giggles.

They spent the next hour telling jokes and relating stories about their childhoods, since they couldn't talk about their seishi missions in front of Miaka. Hatsui went out of his way to tell hilarious anecdotes, obviously enjoying Miaka's characteristic peals of laughter.

"I can't believe it!" she gasped. "You mean that you always hid in baskets as a child?"

"As long as I could find one large enough to fit into. My parents could never figure out why…and neither could I, to tell the truth. All they knew is that if they found that something valuable was mysteriously broken or all the goats were wandering out of their pen, or any other kind of boy-type devilry, they had to search every basket if they wanted to spank me."

Miaka's laugh was interrupted by a hiccup followed by a wide yawn.

"That's enough for you, young lady," Tasuki said in a mock-severe tone. "Off to bed; I think our hosts have finally hit the hay as well."

"But where will you sleep?"

"On the floor, which is a hell of a lot warmer than the open ground, so don't give me that look. Just toss a couple blankets down for me; I'll give ya a few minutes headstart to do all yer 'girly-gettin'-ready-for-bed' stuff; ya know, all that scary face cream and weird hair clips an' shit."

"I do not—!" Miaka began, then realized that Tasuki was teasing her. "Oh shut up," she grumbled, pretending to be angry, but she flashed Urumiya and Hatsui a wide smile before she flounced off to bed.

Hatsui sat grinning at the door that she had disappeared behind. "That's one really special priestess you've got there, Tasuki."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're sharing a room with her because…?"

"I'm there ta protect her, nothin' else, so get yer mind outta the gutter!"

"All right, all right." Hatsui put his hands up placatingly, completely missing Urumiya's frantic gestures behind Tasuki's back. "I was just thinking that since she's a lovely young widow, and I'm a lonely young seishi, and Suzaku's already been summoned, why don't I…" He trailed off, finally aware of a palpable chill in the air.

Tasuki finally broke the icy silence. "I think I'll head off ta bed now." He spun on his heel and left the Genbu seishi out in the darkness, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hatsui let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Shikuso! I don't know why, but for a moment there, I thought he was going to rip me to pieces! I found myself wishing for a basket of any size to hide in!"

"You complete and utter ass!" Urumiya pushed off the rail and cuffed Hatsui sharply in the head.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Didn't you see me waving at you? Of all the stupid things to say—you're just lucky that he decided to spare your worthless hide, because if he had decided to do you some violence, there's no way I would've been able to stop him! He's a Miko no Seishi at full power, you fool, and his particular power is speed!"

"Yeah, I know that, but what did I do wrong? Why would he want to hurt me?"

"Arrrrggh!" Urumiya gripped his head in frustration. "You not only forget lessons, you forget important gossip as well! Don't you remember any rumors about Tasuki and his Priestess?"

"Wellll…" Hatsui's face went red. "But you told me that the gossip was all lies! You said that what happened at that inn was due to an evil spell, something to do with Chichiri's enemy taking revenge through Tasuki—"

"Yes, that's true, but use your brain for once! Why do you think the spell worked on Tasuki? What was he thinking that made him a target for Chichiri's enemy?"

"Well, you said Chichiri explained that Tasuki thought he was helping the Priestess, that he was going to make her happy by taking her away from…. Oh. Oh shit."

"'Oh shit' is right. How you're going to apologize to Tasuki, I don't know, since we can't exactly bring any of this up…" Urumiya trailed off, realizing that Hatsui was no longer listening to him.

The dark-haired seishi was staring off into space with a goofy smile.

"Just think," he said dreamily. "All those years of unrequited love, and now they're together again, and she doesn't remember their tragic past. Isn't it romantic?" His eyes were shining mistily.

"Gah, you're hopeless!" fumed Urumiya, then stomped off to their own room, slamming the door shut behind him

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Somewhere in the cracks between space and time

Chichiri stood at the entrance of the vaulted room, staring at the expanse of water stretching out before him. It was a giant bathing pool, at least twice as large as the one that Hotohori had provided for the Imperial concubines. One corner of his mouth quirked up as he remembered the time that Nuriko had staged an elaborate ruse, constructing a series of events that had tricked all of the Suzaku seishi into ending up at the sequestered place. His grin widened as he remembered Tasuki cursing and sputtering after an angry concubine had pushed him into the pool; if not for Hotohori's quick intervention, she might have ended up drowning the furious bandit.

Silly pranks and jokes. Happy times, before all of the tragedy that occurred after the failed summoning.

Before the events of the Star-Gazing Festival.

He shook his head, pushing aside the melancholy thoughts. It was stupid to attach sadness to every happy memory, as if true happiness existed only if it were a permanent state of being. Wasn't it the ephemeral nature of these joyous moments that made them all the more precious?

Chichiri lifted his face to the artificial sun and smiled. He intended to savor every moment of happiness left to him in this existence—starting now.

Following the subliminal messages left in his mind, he walked over to a bundle sitting near some potted plants and read the attached note.

Enjoy.

He lifted the bundle and examined it. It consisted of a thick, soft towel, as large as his kesa, and…a strange pair of trousers. Holding the brightly patterned cotton garment next to his body, he squinted down at it. The waist looked as if it would fit him, but for some reason, the trouser legs were so short that they barely reached his knees. He shrugged. Perhaps that was what the Doctor expected him to wear around the TARDIS until his own clothes were cleaned.

Placing the trousers back on top of the towel, he undressed quickly, diving into the water with a clean, smooth motion. He surfaced, tossing his bangs out of his face, then began to swim the length of the pool with long, leisurely strokes. The water was perfect, feeling like a sun-warmed pond on a summer day. It glided over his skin, caressing him as gently as a lover's hand.

Happiness. Serenity. The soothing hiss of water as it swished past his ears. Somewhere in the music of the rushing water rose an achingly familiar melody.

I remember a meadow one morning in May

He opened his arms in a powerful breast stroke and opened his mind at the same time, letting the memories flood through him. The music flowed around him with the water, lifting and carrying him as lightly as a leaf in a river.

With a sky full of dreams that sailed in that day

I was dancing through green waves of grass like the sea

The joy swelled in his heart, until that he felt as if his entire being were singing.

For a moment in time I could feel

I was free...

Breaking the surface, he dashed the water from his eyes…and met the smiling blue-green gaze of the Doctor.

"Good morning, Houjun."

Happiness bubbled over, making him grin like an idiot, but for once he didn't care.

"Ohayo, Doctor. Are you going to swim?"

The Doctor laughed, leaning against his cello and waving his bow. "I have my hands a bit full at the moment, I'm afraid. But you go on."

He was dressed more casually than usual, conceding to the warm humidity of the pool area by leaving off his frock coat, cravat, and waistcoat. His white silk shirt was open at the collar and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but other than that, he was fully dressed.

"Come on in, Doctor. The water's wonderful." Feeling playful, Chichiri splashed a bit of water at him.

"Well, it's obvious that I'd better put the Stradivarius away. Antonio will have my head if he sees water spots on his precious finish. Besides that, I wanted to speak with you."

Chichiri frowned. "I can come out."

"No, no, no, no, no. You're obviously enjoying yourself, so I'll just come to you."

The Doctor carefully set the cello back against the wall, then kicked off his boots and stockings and rolled up his trouser legs. Dropping down on the edge of the pool, he dangled his feet in the water.

"You're right, Houjun; the water feels wonderful."

"It feels even better if you're all the way in. Come on, Doctor."

"Perhaps in a while. Right now, we need to discuss our next move. I must tell you, Houjun, of all the places in the universe that I might have encountered you, I'd never expected to find you on the outer shell of the Swarm mothership."

Chichiri had been floating on his back, but at those words, he spun in shock, crashing beneath the water. He thrashed to the surface and pushed to the edge of the pool, coughing up water under the Doctor's concerned gaze.

"I'm sorry, Houjun; I thought that you knew! How else did you end up there?"

"Accident!" gasped Chichiri, finally clearing the last of the water from his lungs. "I caught a ride on one of the Enemy without knowing where it was going. I knew that we'd crossed dimensions, but I had no idea that we'd traveled that far!"

"Unfortunately, it wasn't very far at all. I'm afraid that the Swarm is only one short dimensional hop away from your own world. Tell me what has been happening."

In a halting voice, Chichiri told him of the attacks on the seishi children and the destruction of the Suzaku monastery, all the while wondering how he could have been so blind! Why didn't he immediately connect the hidden Enemy with that disastrous encounter with Magus all those years ago? Perhaps he had been afraid to face the truth: that he himself was responsible for this growing threat to their world.

"Now that's utter nonsense, and you know it! I won't permit you to go on thinking such complete drivel!"

Chichiri blinked at the force of the Doctor's anger…and at the familiar way that the Doctor easily invaded his thoughts. He couldn't help it; in spite of his dread, he suddenly had to repress a smile.

"Yes, I know that I'm being rude, but you're being extremely provoking. After all these years, I thought that you would have outgrown your propensity for taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong in your universe."

"As you have?" Chichiri shot the Doctor an ironic look.

The Doctor looked nonplussed for a moment before breaking into a rueful grin.

"Point taken, Houjun. Very well, we will both assume guilt and then absolve one another for falling into Magus' machinations. We shall acknowledge that we, as one of my companions has said many times, are deep in the muck now, thus the need to formulate an immediate plan of action. I don't know if you remember this from so long ago, but in addition to our own danger, there is a possible threat to the world from which your priestess originates."

Chichiri paled. "I forgot to tell you, Doctor!"

He recounted the story of the fatal attack on Tamahome and the current danger for the Priestess of Seiryuu, all the while watching the Doctor's eyes grow darker and bleaker. By the end of his story, he was shivering in the pool.

The Doctor lowered his gaze, staring thoughtfully into the water as he rubbed one finger across his lips. "I won't lie to you, Houjun; the situation is very dire. We must find a way to defeat the Swarm, and we haven't much time to do so. Not only because of the Swarm itself; our one advantage seems to be that they are proceeding in their usual methodical and cautious manner. The greater danger may come from my own people."

"Your own people?"

"Yes. If the High Council of Time Lords gets wind of a possible threat to the nexus of galactic history—otherwise known as Earth, the world of your priestesses and your lost warrior—they may unravel time to the point of wiping out the existence of your world. They may…they may make it so that Magus—or you or your gods—had never existed at all."

Chichiri let go of the edge of the pool, letting himself sink beneath the surface as he pondered the immensity of their danger. It was almost too much for one human mind to take in: the thought that neither he nor his world would ever have come into being at all. He had often faced his own death with a certain trust in his fate at the hands of the gods…but this was annihilation on a scale that crossed over into abomination.

No.

No, he wasn't going to let that happen. No matter the cost.

He surfaced abruptly, washing a wave of water over the edge of the pool, his gaze dark and intent on the Doctor.

"That isn't going to happen. We're going to stop them."

"The Swarm or the Time Lords?"

"Both, if need be."

Unexpectedly, the Doctor broke into a sunny smile. "My thoughts exactly, Houjun! 'Damn the torpedoes,' as they say on Earth. So the sooner we start, the better. Right after breakfast, we're going to assemble the original team."

"The original team?"

"Yes; those of us who fought this initial battle so many years ago."

Houjun gripped the side of the pool. "Do you mean…her?"

The Doctor's gaze softened. "Yes—if you don't object to that, of course."

"No…no, I don't object, but…will she? Do you think she'll want to…?" He paused, unable to go on.

"We won't know until we ask her."

"Do you know where to find her?"

"I believe that I have a fairly good idea of where to start looking."

Chichiri pushed away from the edge once more, floating on his back and staring at the vaulted ceiling, feeling as if the world were spinning around him. Was this really going to happen? After all this time, was he really going to see her again?

Was it right that he should feel this ridiculous surge of joy in the midst of the overwhelming threat to their very existence? Suddenly, it was as if he heard his Master's words, reciting an ancient koan in his head:

A traveler, fleeing a tiger who was chasing him, ran till he came to the edge of a cliff. There he caught hold of a thick vine, and swung himself over the edge.

Above him the tiger snarled. Below him he heard another snarl, and behold, there was another tiger, peering up at him. The vine suspended him midway between two tigers.

Two mice, a white mouse and a black mouse, began to gnaw at the vine. He could see they were quickly eating it through. Then in front of him on the cliffside he saw a red, luscious strawberry. Holding onto the vine with one hand, he reached out and picked the strawberry with the other.

How sweet it tasted!

Truth, in the simplest of parables.

It was time that he savored the happiness that life granted him, no matter how ephemeral it might be. Swimming swiftly back to the Doctor, Chichiri took firm hold of the time lord's ankles and fixed him with an innocent look.

"You're far too dry," he remarked, then kicked off from the edge of the pool.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Midwestern USA

Gleaming skyscrapers towered over the park overlooking a lake the size of a small ocean. The sounds of traffic were muted behind the roar of a huge, European-style fountain spraying a plume of water 150 feet in the air. Off to the lee side of the fountain, several tables were scattered for the convenience of diners who were taking advantage of the outdoor food stalls and the balmy sunshine of late spring.

One table held a lively group of four people: three women and one young man, siblings by the look of them. They were caught up in watching a wedding party that was setting up for scenic pictures by the fountain.

"Pretty soon," remarked the youngest of the women.

The young man, several years her junior, sat up straighter in anticipation. "I'm beginning to feel it…"

The words were barely out out of his mouth when the light breeze gave way to a gust of wind that blasted the plume of water directly over the wedding party.

"Assholes," remarked the short, stocky woman at the table, smirking as the bride and bridesmaids let out screams of dismay, trying to run from the relentless shower.

"You're such a bitch, Rowena," remarked her younger sister affectionately.

"Well, what the fuck did they think was gonna happen, standing on the windward side of the fountain? Yuh-duh! And don't call me by that fuckin' girly name. I'm Rocky, remember, like 'rocklike fists upside of your head?'"

Her younger sister shrugged, unimpressed by the implied threat, while the eldest of the three women glanced up from a thick stack of papers. Unlike the casual jeans-and-sweatshirt garb of her sisters, she was dressed in a fashionable black pantsuit and pointy-toed pumps.

"Quit fighting, you two, I'm trying to recheck this deposition. And stop complaining about your name, Rooo-weeee-na, I picked it out for you myself."

"Yeah, I know, thanks a million. Can't tell you how happy I am that your favorite cartoon heroine was Princess Rowena of Ragnarok—and that you managed to convince Mom that it was an All-American name!"

"What did I know? I was three, for God's sake. You're just lucky that I didn't talk Mom into naming you Ethel Mertz."

"If there's such a thing as reincarnation, Kathleen, I swear that I'm going to be reborn first, and then I'm going to name you Esmerelda Platypus Plotz!"

The youngest woman leaned back and grinned at the man sitting with them. "Aren't you glad that you decided to have lunch with your big sisters, Robby? Raising the level of excitement in your life?"

He snorted, his keen blue eyes scanning the crowd with a distracted air. "Oh yeah, watching you three pull each other's hair is such a novelty, like I haven't seen it all my life."

"Poor baby. Could be worse. Could be your hair we're pulling!" She reached over and tugged at his short, wavy locks, so similar to her own.

"Lay off, Joss!" he growled in mock irritation. "And it's Rob,' not 'Robby.' I'm twenty-three years old, not some baby."

"You're my baby," she replied cheerfully and pinched his cheek, smacking him playfully when he swatted her hand away.

"Or maybe it's 'RAH-bert,' said Rocky, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"You can lay off as well, Rocky. I told you that Cindy was just being…Cindy."

"The last I heard, she was calling herself 'Cynthia' and inviting her sorority sisters to your wedding. If you don't watch your step, buddy, we're gonna end up embroiled in another breach-of-promise suit."

Joss flushed, while Kathleen held her head and groaned. "Nooooooo, please, no! Just because you happen to have a lawyer in the family doesn't mean that I'm available twenty-four-seven for straightening out my siblings' legal entanglements!"

"You wouldn't be involved in even one lawsuit if either of those younger ones would ever listen to me! But noooooooo, we gotta give every dickwad in the world the benefit of the doubt."

Joss gritted her teeth. "Look, Rocky, I've had to listen to you say, 'I told you so,' at least fifty times already! How long are you gonna keep harping on me?"

"Until I'm sure that you won't fuck up like this again. I told you he was a dickhead approximately five minutes after I first met him! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we were just friends. Then, when he started going on about how maybe we could have a family together…I guess I stopped thinking at all." Joss met her older sister's gaze, her own brown eyes clouded with misery. "I'm thirty-two years old, Rocky, and pretty soon it's gonna be too late for me. Maybe I just wanted a chance at what you and Kathleen have with your children…and maybe some part of me thought that it didn't matter who I had those kids with. Because you know, I'm never gonna love anyone the way I loved…him."

There was a heavy silence at the table. All three siblings had heard of the man that Joss had met while on her side trip to "China," seven years ago, but only Rocky knew the true story behind it all. It seemed nearly impossible to believe, but after listening to her younger sister sob out the details one night, she had blinked, shrugged and then remarked, 'There are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio…' and left it at that.

But now…

"All right." Her voice suddenly husky, Rocky passed a hand quickly across her eyes. "All right. I'm gonna quit giving you a hard time, because in the end, you were smart enough to tell that asshole to go pound salt. Just in the nick of time, too."

Joss swallowed hard, remembering that moment when she'd walked into City Hall with David and suddenly knew, knew with a conviction as immovable as stone, that she could never marry him or anyone else, because everything in her was yearning for the one man who—the one man that—

"Yeah." Kathleen had dropped her professional lawyer's tone and now assumed her usual South Side accent. "Don't you worry about anything, Jossy-Kay. Your big sisters are gonna hand Mr. Whiny-Bastard David Marinowsky his balls on a platter. Breach-of-promise suit, huh. He's gonna learn what happens when he messes with the Nagano-Kerns!"

All four clasped their hands on top of one another's, Musketeer-style, grinning at each other like loons.

"Okay!" Rocky clapped her hands, embarrassed as usual by display of her softer side. "Since we are disposing of erstwhile fiances with the paper sword of justice, it's time to find you a bit of recreation. Just a nice, quick, one-night-stand, Joss."

"Oh, god!" Rob hid his face in his hands. "Do you have to play this game when I'm around?"

"Don't worry, Baby Bro, we'll find someone for you, too. Hey Joss, just behind your right shoulder—I believe it's Mr. Right!"

"Tell me," said Joss, her expression carefully deadpan.

"Oh, just your usual up-and-coming stockbroker. Expensive suit, body buffed by personal trainer, tanning-bed-bronzed skin…"

Joss twisted to look behind her, spotting the usual East Bank Club type, with a vacuous, self-absorbed expression on his face guaranteed to win the hearts of pom-pom girls everywhere.

"Oh God!"

All three sisters simultaneously raised their thumbs and forefingers two inches apart in an unmistakable gesture.

"You wenches are harsh!" complained Rob.

"Oh shut up, where else are you gonna learn the truth about what women really think?"

"There are some things that I think it would be better not to know!"

"Surrender, Luke," intoned Joss in a deep, gravelly voice. "Give yourself over to the Dark Side. It Is Your Des-ti-ny!"

Rocky frowned at her younger brother. "I said that I'd quit harping on Joss, but I didn't make the same promise to you, Robby-chan. Come on, little brother, spill. Why is Miss Cynthia Beaumont still crashing at your place, when the redecorating job on her apartment shoulda been finished over a month ago? I thought this was a platonic friendship."

Rob squirmed under his sisters' laser glares. "Look, I was just trying to help her out. You know that we broke up ages ago, right after high school. But one night, maybe about three weeks back, she brought home a bottle of wine and started talking about old times…and I guess I might've drunk too much, because… Anyway, now it's kind of hard to ask her to move out."

"Shit!" Rocky held her head in her hands. "Better start drawing up a duplicate set of defense papers, Kathleen; the lawsuits are coming in spades."

"There isn't going to be a lawsuit!" Rob was indignant. "I didn't promise her anything. Besides, she's not as bad as you think; we get along okay and have lots of the same interests."

Rocky snorted derisively, but Joss leaned over and took her brother's hand. "Listen, Robby-chan, take it from someone who knows. Don't settle for anything less than the real thing, okay?"

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Hey, here comes another one," said Kathleen, trying to lighten the atmosphere by going back to the game. "Just what you like, Joss: the earthy type, who enjoys the sensual pleasures in life."

Joss twisted around gamely, only to see a three-hundred-pound tourist licking desperately at a dripping ice-cream cone.

"Thanks, guys. I'll be sure to bring him over for holidays at your place."

Suddenly Rocky straightened, sending an incredulous look over Joss' left shoulder. "Hey, look at this! Some reeeeeeal quality stuff is headed this way!"

Joss crossed her arms, refusing to be taken in. "Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious! An absolutely gorgeous man, wavy brown hair kinda long, Oscar Wilde-style velvet frock coat—must be an actor or something. And the guy with him is a knockout, too—simple Chinese-style shirt and pants, but he's wearing an eyepatch and…does he have blue hair?"

Joss stiffened in her chair, looking at her sister with eyes full of betrayal.

"That's not funny, Rocky," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I'm not joking." Rocky suddenly focused on Joss, surprised at the emotion in her voice. Her eyes widened as she suddenly understood. She grabbed Joss' shoulder, trying to turn her around. "I'm not making fun of you, Joss—they're really heading this way! Just turn around and look!"

"I can't."

Rob and Kathleen stared, finally realizing that something was going on with Joss. She looked at her siblings helplessly, unable to stop the tears.

"I can't look," she whispered. "I couldn't bear it if it wasn't—"

"Hello, Joss."

The velvet tones were just as soft as she remembered them, the melodic accent as hypnotic. She struggled for control for one moment longer—then let go, spinning out of her chair and flinging herself into his arms.

"Doctor!" she sobbed, burying her face in the familiar sandalwood-scented folds, feeling him hold her as tenderly as always. She burrowed deeper into him, losing all sense of time, losing herself in him once more. Hiding…

Eventually, the waves of comfort flowing from him calmed her, enabling her to loosen her grip. But only slightly.

"Joss, there's someone else here."

"Yes, I know," she whispered into his coat.

"Won't you—?"

"I'm scared, " she confessed with her characteristic honesty. "Is he—does he—?"

"You won't know until you see him."

"All right."

She pushed away from the Doctor, only dimly aware of her siblings crowding curiously around them, then turned and lifted her eyes.

"He's older, " she thought a little inanely. "Maybe even older than me. Better-looking, too. I wonder if he ever…?"

But that thought was destined to go unfinished, because at that moment he smiled at her, and behind his smile was something as hopeful and frightened and vulnerable as she was—and she was moving towards him, moving into his arms, fitting into him the way she remembered, the way that she'd dreamed of for seven long, achingly lonely years.

And everything was all right; finally, blessedly all right, because no matter what lay ahead, they'd already overcome the biggest obstacle. They'd found one another again, across two worlds and a multitude of years.

She eventually pulled back, smiling weakly at the Doctor from within the shelter of Chichiri's arms. The Doctor's expression had grown serious.

"Joss, there's something we need to ask you…"

She held up a trembling hand to silence him. "Before you say anything else, Doctor—the answer is yes, yes, a thousand times YES!"

"There will be danger."

"I assumed that."

"Your family?"

She looked back at her siblings, at their eyes filled with tears. "They understand," she said softly.

Rocky stepped forward, rubbing at her eyes. "Damn right we do. But there's one thing, Doctor, er…Doctor. You'd better take good care of her, or you'll have me to answer to! And trust me, you don't want to piss me off."

The Doctor smiled uncertainly. "Somehow I believe you. You have my solemn word as a gentleman and a time lord that I will guard her life with my own."

Rocky's eyes narrowed speculatively at his words. "Time lord, eh? So that means, provided that everything turns out okay, you should have no trouble bringing Joss back for Thanksgiving dinner at my place, right? You two are expected as well, of course."

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Agreed."

Joss was already hugging and kissing her other two siblings, somehow never losing hold of Chichiri's hand. In almost no time, the three travelers were running down the steps of the fountain plaza and, with one last wave from Joss, they disappeared around the corner. Moments later, the air vibrated with a strange wheezing, groaning sound that faded quickly into the noise of normal afternoon traffic.

Kathleen wiped a tear from her eye. "So she's gone…for a long time, I take it."

"Mm-hm." Rocky was uncharacteristically succinct.

"And all that talk about danger?"

"Don't worry, they'll take care of her."

Kathleen sighed. "Obviously you believe that; otherwise you wouldn't've let her go."

Rocky shrugged. "Yeah, I trust them…but in this case, Joss wouldn't have stopped, no matter what I said."

"I hope you know that we expect a complete and detailed explanation, especially about that 'time lord' stuff, and we're not letting you off the hook, even if I have to depose you myself!"

"Fine, all right, but I demand another round of iced tea before we start. It's a fuckin' long story, and I don't want my throat to dry up halfway through."

They turned and starting walking toward a nearby lemonade stand, when they noticed that they were missing another sibling. Rob had hung back, staring at the spot where his sister had disappeared and chewing his lip thoughtfully.

"You all right, Robby-chan?" Kathleen's voice was tenderly solicitous.

"I'm asking Cindy to move out tonight. If she won't go, I'll pack my things and leave."

"That's a pretty radical change of heart," remarked Rocky.

"Yeah, it is. But I finally realized something." Rob looked at his sisters, his expression open and vulnerable. "That look on Joss' face…the way she looked when she saw him again—I want that in my life. I want to feel something that deep and real, and…and I want a woman who will have that look on her face when she looks at me."

He stared out at the lake, his eyes distant and slightly dreamy. "I won't settle for anything less, I promise, Onee-chan."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Kutou, Imperial City

Nuriko stood at the throne room doors, his bracelets loose on his wrists, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt. He noted that Hotohori was in the same battle stance, her eyes focused and hard.

It had been a long journey to this point, but the worst of it had been over the last two days, once they had crossed over into Kutou. Dear gods, the devastation! He had thought Eiyou and Konan badly damaged by the war, but they were bustling and healthy next to the wasteland that Kutou had become.

The dried-up wheat fields. The skeletal carcasses along the roads. The garbage in the city streets, ignored by a population too weak and hopeless to care.

The hollow-eyed, hungry children.

He fought back his anger, not wanting resentment to compromise their mission. He was well aware that the man who was now Emperor of Kutou wasn't the same emperor responsible for the senseless war that had devastated two countries…yet Nuriko found it hard to forgive anyone in the government for the desolation of the children.

The current emperor was a minor general who had once taken orders from Nakago, before seizing power in the third bloody coup since the war ended. He'd held on to the jade throne for over two years now—so why hadn't he made any inroads in alleviating the suffering of his people?

Without taking her eyes off the doors, Hotohori reached out and gently squeezed his hand. Patience, she seemed to say silently. His hand tightened around hers for a moment before releasing it. All right; he would yield to her greater experience in international diplomacy, keeping his mouth shut and following her lead.

The doors finally opened with a squeal of rusted hinges, and the sullen guards gestured them in.

It was a long, strange walk to the Imperial throne. The carpet was worn and threadbare, its former glory evident in the dull gleam of a few remaining gold threads. Along each side of the room ranged the Imperial Guard, their uniforms as threadbare as the carpet, their faces surly or, when they looked at Hotohori, openly lustful.

Undisciplined, thought Nuriko, feeling more like dinner rather than a diplomatic envoy. He subtly tightened his hand around his sword hilt.

Interspersed between the guard were monks of Seiryuu, each one standing quietly in his blue robe with shakujou held before him and bamboo kasa bowed in respect or prayer. The monks' quiet piety made them look considerably more disciplined than the guard beside them.

Except for the last one. Nuriko stared at the lead monk standing at the foot of the jade throne…at least he appeared to be the leader, judging from the design of his robes. The man seemed too young for that position of honor; perhaps only in his late twenties, with a thick ponytail of black hair and dragon locks framing an unusual countenance that appeared both refined and rugged at the same time. Strangest of all was his expression: openly curious and cheerful, shading into deep appreciation as Hotohori entered his line of sight.

Nuriko bristled. No wonder the country was going to hell, if even their priests knew nothing of monastic discipline. The monk suddenly caught Nuriko's disapproving glare—and winked.

"So. A delegation from our dear neighbors in Konan." The emperor's gravelly voice snapped Nuriko's attention away from the monk.

In one fluid motion, Hotohori had dropped into a deep and respectful bow, touching her forehead to the ground, and Nuriko quickly followed suit.

"You honor us, Heika."

The man snorted. "As if I had any choice. Get up."

As he rose to his feet, Nuriko fought back another surge of anger at the man's boorishness. Had this man really served under Nakago? As much as he had hated the Kutou shogun, Nuriko had seen enough of the man's discipline to know that he would never have tolerated such crudeness from those under his command.

Then again, Nakago had died over ten years ago.

The emperor was a large man with grey-streaked hair and the heavy build of an old soldier whose muscle was going to fat. Nuriko suddenly took in the man's sunken features, rheumy eyes, and the slight trembling in his limbs. His heart sank. The emperor had all the hallmarks of one caught in the spell cast by the seeds of the poppy.

How were they supposed to deal with a drug addict?

The emperor had risen to his feet and now stood towering above them. He made an abrupt gesture at the lead monk.

"Word of your arrival was delivered to me just today by these servants of the patron god of Kutou." His words were thick with sarcasm, but the young monk responded only by tipping his head respectfully. "It seems the gods have decided that Kutou needs the help of our more fortunate…neighbor. So I was commanded to allow you entry," his eyes flicked to their sword belts, "armed in my presence. A unprecedented liberty."

"We are here to serve, Heika, with what abilities we possess. The gods have sent us to help strengthen Kutou, so that she will be an effective ally in our struggle against this unknown enemy." Hotohori's voice remained soft and respectful.

The emperor moved closer, suddenly grasping Hotohori's chin and turning her face to his. Nuriko tensed, but a subtle gesture from her kept him in place.

"Well, at least they have sent a rare beauty to deliver this…succor." His voice suddenly hardened. "I take orders from no one, not priest nor the gods themselves! This throne is mine, and I will defy any force, be it from heaven or hell, to wrest it from my grasp!"

He leaned in towards Hotohori, his features contorted in something between a snarl and a leer. "You will serve Kutou, my lady, by servicing me. When I am finished with you, I will send whatever is left of you directly to your god!"

Nuriko shoved the Emperor away from Hotohori, his bracelets transforming into gauntlets, as Hotohori's sword sang out of its scabbard. They stood back to back as the Imperial guard drew their own weapons.

"Take them!" snarled the Emperor, and there was a flurry of motion as the guards rushed towards the seishi.

Nuriko took down three men with a single sweep of his sword, kicking the next attacker halfway across the room. Another guardsman found himself lifted by a gauntleted arm and flung through the air, landing hard and cracking his head against the jade throne. The seishi was caught up in the heat of battle, only dimly aware of Hotohori moving beside him as lightly as a dancer, the holy sword of Suzaku flashing with scarlet light. The Kutou emperor stumbled back behind his personal guard, fear in his eyes as the power of the Suzaku seishi blazed forth in red fury…

…and just like that, it was over.

There were no more guards rushing at them; nothing but the groan of injured men. Nuriko breathed heavily, his muscles trembling with unused adrenaline, his eyes darting around the room as he registered that every remaining guardsman was pinned beneath the shakujou of a Seiryuu monk.

He looked up at the throne to see the Emperor's eyes glazed with astonishment…before the man fell over, spurting blood in a grisly fountain, his throat slashed nearly to the bone.

Behind him, holding a bloodied dagger, was the young monk who had appeared so blithe earlier, and who now flashed a brief but incongruously cheerful grin. Stepping delicately around the pool of blood spilling down the dais, he looked down at the Emperor's body and raised his free hand vertically before his face, intoning a brief prayer.

"Who are you?" The words burst from Nuriko as he moved protectively closer to Hotohori. "What have you done?"

"I've sent the late emperor to a private audience with our god," the monk replied in a deep, smooth voice. "Seiryuu was very anxious to speak with him."

He approached the seishi, his grin widening as Nuriko raised his sword defensively. He bowed and offered the hilt of the dagger to Hotohori.

"Honorable Suzaku seishi, allow me to introduce myself: Seiryuu no Seishi Miboshi…at your service."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Glossary of Terms: (in order of appearance)

Dinnae – (Scottish) Do not

Che inciviltà! – (Italian) How rude!

Breenging – (Scottish) Moving in a rapid, devil-may-care fashion, especially while intoxicated with one's own self-importance

Fusty – (Scottish) Dusty, smelling of mould, unclean

Bampot bairn – (Scottish) stupid kid

Barmy – (Anglo) Crazy

Erse – (Scottish) Arse, or ass

Alé, Uruki tesorini! – (Italian) Hurray, Uruki darling!

"Che bello! … un testa rosso, cara mia!" – (Italian) How handsome! … a redhead, my dear!

Bambini idiota – (Italian) idiot children

Baa-chan – (Japanese) Grandma

Sciocco bambino – (Italian) foolish little boy

Dolcezza mia…Sono il tuo sciavo! -- (Italian) My Sweet…I am your slave!

Sciocco! – (Italian) Fool!

Traditore! Serpente! – (Italian) Traitor! Snake!

Punto e basta! – (Italian) Enough is enough!

Il testa rosso – (Italian) the redhead

Ragazza mia – (Italian) My girl

Oi! – (Japanese) Hey!

Kuso, Shikuso – (Japanese) Shit!

Ohayo – (Japanese) Good morning

Onee-chan – (Japanese) Elder sister

Breach of Promise suit –(English) a lawsuit seeking monetary damages for one partner breaking a promise to marry. Traditionally, this type of suit was filed by a young woman who was seduced by a man who had promised to wed her, but nowadays, this suit acts more like a palimony suit, and can be filed by either women or men.

The parable about the traveler and the tigers is a Buddhist koan attributed to Buddha himself.

/-/-/-/

Author's Notes: (9-22-05) Are you happy, Bridge fans? The person you've been clamoring for is BACK! Yes, here comes...Miboshi!

All right, all right, quit throwing things at the screen. I know that you meant Joss. But before I get to that, I believe there are a few other issues to tackle.

But where to begin? Maybe chronological order (for the chapter) would be best.

Soooo then…Scottish? Ahem. All I can say in defense is—see the author note for Ch. 13. :P

Besides, the accents of Namame and Inami are huge tip-offs to the identities of the world famous actors who inspired my physical description of these two seishi. To take part in a discussion of which actors could possibly portray Namame, Inami and Uruki (male and female), just click on the homepage link at the top of my author profile page. I'm posting my thoughts on LiveJournal, aaaand…it's perfectly legal for me to interact with my readers there. ;P

Oh, before I forget, here are my canonical Genbu Kaiden references: Uruki's weapon and Hatsui's habit of hiding in the same basket in which he was held prisoner by a sorceress.

But then, my fan-onical reference (to my own work) was Urumiya referring to Tasuki as a "Miko-no-Seishi" (my own term). In the world of Hidden Paths, a Miko no Seishi is more highly honored—and more powerful—than a celestial warrior who (after reincarnation) was not joined with all seven seishi in a god-summoning mission.

Now I have to thank all of you for making it through this Never-Ending Chapter! I swore that I was going to try to keep HP chapters under10,000 words, but there was just too much information leading to future chapters, and I couldn't keep putting off all of this exposition. Sigh. The political situation in Hokkan and the confirmation of the Enemy as being the Swarm were points that needed to be made ASAP. But anyway, you all made it through, so all is good.

And of course, the long-awaited return of Joss. Things are getting both more complex and more interesting, so hang in there, faithful Bridge fans and Emotional Roller Coaster Fanatics! I have to admit, though, writing about Joss and her siblings in the unnamed Midwestern City made me nostalgic for Casting Stones. I gotta get back to that story, especially since I have one-half of the next CS chapter already finished!

Finally, Miboshi. Bit of a shock, eh? The explanation is…

Nope, I'm not gonna tell ya. You have to wait for the next chapter of Hidden Paths to find out! (gives evil cliffhanger-laugh: Bwaaaa-hahahahahaha!)

So next time on Hidden Paths, be ready for—damn, it's hard to tell! I've got to get back to the Miboshi question in the Nuriko/Hotohori storyline, and also get back to the Tokyo group, but I want to go on to the Action Chapter with the Genbu and Tasuki and Miaka; however whatever happened to Tomite and Hikitsu? (sound of spinning plates crashing) All right, I admit that I have a very good explanation of where Tomite and Hikitsu are; the problem is finding time to write it. Only crazy people have so many plotlines going at once, right, Kris? And Mouse? And Ryuen? ;P

Once again, my deepest gratitude to Purple Mouse and Ryuen for their outstanding efforts in beta-reading.

Even if they made me eliminate the underwater backward somersault by naked Chichiri. :P

On that visual note, I shall bid you:

Ja ne!

Roku