Disclaimer: Fushigi Yuugi not mine.

Warning: M rating again, folks. Violence with some blood in the second half, and a little language.

---

Outsider

Chapter 4

---

The chalk clicked briskly across the keyboard.

"Now, who can tell me what percentage of the curve is below the Z score?"

At the desk beside Miaka's, Yui's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Hongo?"

Miaka sighed faintly as Yui answered the question. I think I'd better see if I could study with Yui tonight. I'm not following this stuff at all.

She stifled a yawn and let her mind wander for a few moments while Yui explained her answer to the befuddled class. Miaka hadn't really slept well the last couple of nights, and it wasn't because she was struggling with her statistics homework, either.

I can't stop worrying. Tasuki…

Once again she saw in her mind's eye the haunted look he'd given her…that tight-lipped, sidelong glance, the emotion all in the eyes. What could he have been thinking? He must have felt awful about what he'd just tried to do…but he wouldn't say anything to me…

A swift kick to her ankle from Yui's direction startled Miaka out of her thoughts, and she looked up. The teacher was looking directly at her. Miaka blushed. "I'm sorry, ma'am… what was the question?" Her voice wasn't quite steady.

"Miss Yuki, would you step outside for a moment? Miss Hongo, kindly work exercises C and D on the board for the class."

Shoulders hunched, Miaka got out of her seat and headed for the door. Guess I'm going to get it now. Not like getting in trouble for spacing out in class is anything new to me…

She went out into the hall and stood by the door with a sigh.

The teacher came out a moment later and shut the door behind her. Miaka braced herself.

"Miss Yuki…"

Miaka blinked at the unexpected sympathy in the teacher's voice, and looked up.

"I noticed you've been having trouble concentrating the last couple of days. You've really improved since the first few weeks of the school year, so it surprised me a little, but…please forgive me…I'd heard…that you were the victim of an assault a few days ago. Is that so?"

Miaka was thrown for a loop for a moment. "…Yes," she finally said softly. "But I'm all right. I wasn't hurt." The bruise on her cheek had gone greenish and didn't really hurt anymore. "I mean, not badly."

The teacher nodded. "Being assaulted doesn't only hurt your body, though, Miaka. It can hurt your mind and your heart, more than you realize."

She means well, Miaka knew. She doesn't know that I've been through a lot more than that…

"If there's anything I can do to help you…there's a crisis counseling center in the city. If you'd like me to refer you there, all you have to do is ask." The teacher put her hand on Miaka's shoulder. "I just want you to be sure you take care of yourself."

Touched, Miaka nodded. "I will. I promise."

Back in class, a few students eyeing her curiously, Miaka sat up straight and tried to put aside her worries. Keiji and the others will figure something out. We'll get in there and talk to him somehow, and once he sees how much we miss him, he'll come back.

He must be so lonely…

---

So far, so good.

It hadn't been easy, but he'd found Tasuki's trail. It had been much fainter than he'd expected, and he'd actually lost it a couple of times. He stood within sight of the building now.

I gave myself two days and I still didn't quite think it through. I should have tracked him from that park where he left Miaka. I'll bet his life force has been stronger since he got his memories back.

As Keiji approached casually, two toughs came into sight. They spotted him and headed right in his direction, but he was ready. He'd fasted the previous day and spent most of the afternoon getting his defenses into place. Then he'd gone to bed early to make sure his strength was as great as he could manage. His batteries were charged.

As they came closer, he reached out cautiously. Neither of them was terribly intelligent or psychically sensitive. Good.

I am someone you know, he whispered into their minds. Someone whom you have seen before…and someone you know better than to mess with.

He'd held back carefully, not wanting to waste too much ammunition on them. I hope that was enough—

He saw the expressions dawn on their faces almost simultaneously. One muttered to the other, and they veered off in another direction, darting uneasy glances back at him.

As he came closer to the building, he began to project a similar thought around him. It took more out of him, but it was simpler than touching every mind individually. He maintained it carefully. The hard part was to look casual while doing it.

Several more toughs lurked near the door, but they looked sluggish. They challenged him only with their sulky, bloodshot eyes, and turned even those away from him as the influence of his suggestion touched them.

Keiji stepped through the door and into a dim hallway.

"Where are you going?"

A tall, clean-shaven, crewcut man stood in Keiji's way and looked at him with hard, narrow eyes. Past the man, Keiji saw several other gang members lurking; he didn't even need mental contact to recognize the way they looked at him. He was authority.

But this wasn't Tasuki. He knew that immediately.

He met the man's eyes. Damn. Smart, and possibly a sensitive too. I'll have to be careful.

"I've got to see the boss," Keiji murmured, and gave the man a calculated nudge.

You know me. I haven't been here in a while, but I am familiar. I am not a threat.

The man stared at him for so long that Keiji was afraid he was going to have to turn back. Finally the man spoke. "He's not available."

Double damn. I have to do it again.

"He'll see me."

Old friends. Very old friends. He'll be very displeased if you turn me away.

The hesitation was much shorter this time, and the man shrugged. "It's your hide," he muttered. "Come on."

"Thank you." Keiji fell in beside the man. They turned into a side hallway. There was a tall set of stairs at the other end.

They crossed the hall in silence. Keiji was relieved. This is hard enough without trying to make small talk with a total stranger… The aura of suggestion wasn't necessary anymore, and he dismissed it.

The man put a foot on the first step.

Crap. One more—

"I'd better go up alone. He and I have a lot to discuss."

No need for you to go up there. You have other things to do. Everything is fine.

The man turned to look at Keiji again.

"Go on up." The man turned away and took a few steps, then stopped. Keiji's heart skipped a beat.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him," the man muttered; then he walked off briskly.

Keiji turned his gaze from the man's back to the closed door at the top of the stairs.

Well…that's the idea, anyway…

---

"Do you have to do that?"

Karuko's voice, uncharacteristically sharp, made Ryuen jump. He blinked at the young man sitting beside him in the front passenger's seat. "Do what?"

"Tap your foot. You're making the car shake." Karuko was staring out the window.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize." Ryuen looked out the windshield. The area looked a little bit less sinister in the daylight. After dropping Keiji off, they'd driven back to a gas station and parked. "If you can't stay in one place until I get back, don't worry about it," he'd said. " I'll find my way back to you."

Ryuen looked back at Karuko, who had retreated into tense silence and didn't appear to have moved a muscle. There he goes again. Hmph…now that I think about it, for someone who doesn't talk much, he's been pretty handy at distracting me when I try to pin him down.

Well… he's got nowhere to escape to right now.

"Hey…have you been all right, Karu?"

Karuko looked down at his folded arms. "…What do you mean?"

"I mean that. You're not the chatterbox I am, but lately getting you to talk has been way too much like work. And you can't blame it on worrying about Tasuki, because it's been going on for months."

Karuko was looking out the window again. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"Well, no, but you're here, I'm here, we've got nothing else to do, and if I sit here much longer with nothing to distract me, I'm going to go nuts. So it's either talk to you, or start tapping my foot again."

Karuko angled a look at him. "Ryuen…"

"Yes, 'sire'?" Ryuen beamed and batted his eyes.

Karuko looked away. "Don't do that," he muttered, but Ryuen could see him trying not to smile. Ha! Works every time.

"Do what, get a smile out of you for once? C'mon, Karu, throw me a bone, here. What's going on?"

Karuko's smile lingered for a few moments, then faded. He was silent for a long time. Ryuen was drawing breath to try again when Karuko finally spoke. "I miss Houki."

Ryuen sat with his mouth open. Well, that came right out of left field…He's never even mentioned her before. I wasn't even sure he'd remembered her.

"We had so little time. Months, only." Karuko's voice grew quieter, and Ryuen felt a chill up his back. "Then I was foolish enough to get myself killed…" Karuko sighed faintly and closed his eyes.

Karuko had never sounded much like Hotohori when he spoke. Karuko's voice was lighter in timbre, his style of speech different.

As Karuko's voice slipped back into the old formal, regal cadence, deepening and softening into a perfect imitation of Hotohori's, Ryuen felt as if he were listening to the voice of a ghost. I don't think he even knows he's doing it, Ryuen thought in wonder, eyes fixed on the profile of his friend's face.

"I may have been doing my duty as a celestial warrior and as an emperor when I fought Nakago, but I certainly failed my duty as a husband. And as a father.

"I abandoned them. We could have had years together, had I not been so rash."

The stern self-judgment in that voice was painful to Ryuen. He's been walking around with that in his head all this time?

What can I even say to him?

Karuko's face was tense, and he said no more. After a moment, Ryuen took one hand off the wheel and laid it on Karuko's arm.

Karuko drew in a sharp, quick breath, as if in pain, and opened his eyes. He turned his head to look at Ryuen. His eyes were dry, but still grieved.

"You did what you had to do. Houki knew that. Don't you remember seeing her again when we were fighting Tenkou? She forgave you."

Ryuen watched Karuko's eyes. Wary reluctance. Yes, he remembers. He's just kept it all locked in for so long that he's been going in circles.

Well, let's see if I can't kickstart him in a new direction.

"Would Houki want you to cut yourself off from everyone? She wouldn't want you to be alone, would she?"

Karuko lowered his face. He stared at his folded arms again, which, to Ryuen's eyes, had the effect of a shield gripped tightly in front of him. Uh-oh. I didn't mean to make him defensive.

All right, new approach. He took his hand from Karuko's shoulder and leaned a bit closer to catch Karuko's chin with his other hand. He turned the young man's face, making Karuko look him in the eye.

Karuko stared at him, eyes widening a little in surprise.

"Your responsibility to Houki and Boushin was fulfilled when we defeated Tenkou," Ryuen said firmly. "You paid your debt, Hotohori. I'm not saying don't miss Houki, because you can't turn that on and off. We all understand that. But you have a new responsibility now. To your friends, and to yourself. And don't you think she'd want you to fulfill that one too?"

Karuko still said nothing, but his guarded expression had turned thoughtful. Ryuen relaxed, smiled, and withdrew his hand.

Karuko smiled faintly and gazed forward out the windshield. "…I knew that, I suppose."

"Of course you did. You were just too caught up in blaming yourself for everything for it to sink in. That's just like you, y'know." Ryuen peered out the windshield again. Inside the gas station, the attendant was watching them mistrustfully. "Now, for right this minute, I think you'd better focus that all that worry toward what you want to eat, 'cause I think we're moving on to that fast food place I saw up the street, before we get busted for the big bad drug dealers we obviously look like."

Ryuen started the car as Karuko chuckled, and pulled out of the parking lot. Once they were waiting in the drive-thru lineup at the restaurant, Ryuen felt a brief nudge to his shoulder, and looked toward Karuko. "Hm?"

"Thank you. For the advice." Karuko was smiling openly.

Absurdly pleased, Ryuen gave him a 100-watt smile in return. "Hey, you'd do the same for me." As the cars in line advanced a little, he pulled forward, and reached for his pocket—and did a double take. Well, crap. "Uh…maybe you can repay me right now—eheh…looks like I forgot my wallet."

Karuko was already taking out his own wallet as he rolled his eyes with a twisted smile.

Ryuen grinned sheepishly. "Hope Keiji's doing better than I am."

---

The door, well oiled, eased silently open under Keiji's hand. He stepped inside, and closed the door soundlessly behind him.

The room was dark in spite of the sunlight outside. Heavy blinds and drapes covered the windows. A barred skylight overhead cast a meager, striped patch of light on the floor.

All right…where is he?

As his eyes adjusted, Keiji stretched his senses out—and felt his heart sink toward his boots.

The room was hashmarked with trails and remnants of Tasuki's familiar life force, but…

Did I miss him after all?

Keiji inhaled—and smelled candle smoke. His gaze darted to the opposite corner of the room, where Miaka had described the shrine to Suzaku. He could see the white shelf on the wall, though not the image above it.

The shelf with three candles still smoking.

Keiji's eyes widened. He's—

Movement—

A high, singing metal whisper—

Keiji threw himself to the right—an intense, stabbing pain crackled out from his left shoulder. He hit the floor, rolled, and lit the room with a chi flare.

The dingy dimness of the room turned to the feverish glare of the heart of a volcano; Keiji's scarlet aura burst into full brightness and leaped out to fill every corner. He heard a grunt. Indistinctly, he could see a man on the other side of the room, shielding his eyes.

Movement again—Keiji rolled and something flickered past his ear to thunk into the wall behind him. How the hell is he doing that when he can't see? I can hardly see, and I'm the one making all the light!

Keiji was beginning to get irritated.

In an instant's concentration he formed that irritation into a crackling sphere that materialized in front of him, livid crimson. With a two-handed gesture that sent another wash of pain from his shoulder down his left arm, Keiji sent the chi bolt flying; he heard a groan, and then a thud as the other man fell.

Keiji slowly got to his feet, trying not to use his left arm, and let his aura fade to a more reasonable glow around him. He glanced down and swallowed hard. A wicked little throwing knife was buried to the hilt in his left shoulder. He tried to direct a little of his energy toward pain control, but there wasn't a lot left to spare. I wasted too much on the flare. Way to go, Chichiri.

The other man was already moving, moaning, trying to get up; he was shaking. Hit him hard, did I? Keiji felt a pang of guilt, but with the knife seeming to glow white-hot in his shoulder, the sentiment was a little weak. It won't hurt him any more than that swill he used to drink. Constitution of an ox. Thick skull thrown in gratis.

He managed to keep his voice flat. "You throw another of those knives at me, and I'll make you eat it, Tasuki."

Keiji paced forward slowly. He stretched out again, trying to get a fix on Tasuki…and he still felt nothing. No aura, familiar or otherwise. To his sixth sense, Tasuki simply wasn't there. What the hell…?

Tasuki rose unsteadily to his feet and glared. The glow of Keiji's aura was still bright enough to reflect from Tasuki's skin and from his black hair, making it gleam red. It glowed in his eyes. It also glimmered on the keen edge of another, larger knife in Tasuki's hand.

He was dressed only in jeans, his feet were bare, and his hair fell uncombed into his eyes. His face was hard and wary. He stared for a moment at the knife still in Keiji's shoulder, then at Keiji's composed face.

Actually it hurt like hell, and he was starting to sweat, but Keiji didn't dare deal with it right now. If I take it out, I'll have to either physically stop the bleeding or concentrate some chi to that area to make it clot faster. Either way takes time…I'm not sure what he's going to do if I show any weakness.

He stopped three meters from Tasuki… and he still couldn't sense him.

He's learned how to mask his life force, Keiji finally realized with an inward jolt of surprise. How the hell did he learn to do that? I could never get him to sit still for so much as a breathing exercise. No wonder his trail was hard to follow.

Tasuki was still on the defensive, not giving anything away. He shifted his weight. His foot bumped against an empty bottle on the floor; it rolled a bit and clinked against an identical bottle beside it.

Keiji spared them an instant's glance and looked back at Tasuki, eyebrows rising. …It can't be.

He moved forward swiftly—there was a flicker of reaction in Tasuki's eyes from within the stony mask. Tasuki lunged, the knife beginning to move, but Keiji wasn't aiming where Tasuki thought he was. He ducked the knife and grabbed for Tasuki's forearm; in a dizzying swirl he had Tasuki restrained against him in an arm lock.

Keiji's left arm and shoulder felt like a live electrical wire. Tasuki was breathing harshly, still clinging to the knife even though his hand had to be going numb. He grunted and fought, testing Keiji's hold. Keiji hung on grimly. Dammit. I'm starting to run out of steam. I'm not going to be able to hold him very long. He could feel a slow trickle of warmth down his side beneath his shirt.

"Tasuki," Keiji muttered through gritted teeth into Tasuki's ear, "I don't mind telling you that my shoulder hurts like a bitch and I'd really like to let go of you, but I'm not going to do it until you drop the knife."

He could feel Tasuki's breaths rasping in and out. He could also smell alcohol on him. He's drunk, and he still almost skewered me. Keiji was chilled, but he didn't loosen his grip, though the pain in his arm and shoulder was growing with every instant.

Come on…don't call my bluff, Tasuki. I could break your arm right now if I wanted to, but if I have to go that far, then I'll know my coming here was pointless. Sweat dripped into Keiji's eyes, stinging, and he tried to blink it away. He closed his eyes, and felt them stinging with more than sweat as he felt his endurance approaching its limit. Come on…

Tasuki suddenly twitched again in Keiji's grasp, and with a sick heart, Keiji tried to muster one more ounce of strength. I didn't want to do this…

—flames—a bonfire, a conflagration—rising, crackling up around him, dancing—

Keiji gasped slightly as Tasuki's life force suddenly flared and poured over his heightened senses. What—

The knife clattered to the floor.

A little dazed, Keiji released the arm lock. Tasuki slid to his knees on the floor, hunched over. Keiji had the presence of mind to kick the knife out of reach just in case. A dangerous grayness was teasing around the edges of his consciousness, and his head was starting to swim.

All right. Time to take care of this and oh my god is this going to hurt…

He checked on Tasuki one more time, but didn't see any immediate threat in him. That's going to have to be good enough—

He closed his eyes and sank down on the floor a few feet from Tasuki. He directed as much energy as he could toward the wound. I hope I don't pass out… He closed his right hand around the knife hilt in his shoulder.

---

The next thing he knew, he was lying down on something much softer than the floor.

Ugh…what?

"Hmph. Idiot."

Yeah. I passed out.

Keiji opened his eyes. He was on the couch. His coat and shirt had been removed; a bandage had been applied to his shoulder. A faded, ragged comforter had been laid over him.

Across the room, the candles had been relit beneath the image of Suzaku. A stick of incense burned beside them.

Tasuki was sitting on the arm of the couch at Keiji's feet, fiddling with something in his hands.

"I don't know what the fuck you expected," he muttered, "just walking in here like that. If I'd killed you you'd've deserved it."

His voice was dull, but his life force was still unshielded, flickering and snapping around him. It's much stronger than it used to be. I wonder whether he knows that. It was extraordinarily distracting to watch; Keiji reluctantly closed down his sense of it. He started to sit up slowly, wincing and trying not to move his left arm.

As Keiji angled himself up, he caught sight of what was in Tasuki's hands. He was polishing one of the little throwing knives.

Tasuki gave him a sidelong glance as he made it into a sitting position; for a moment Keiji caught a glimpse of the resemblance Miaka had described—face closed and tight-lipped, eyes full of angry, sullen dread. Then he turned his face away.

"What do you want, Chichiri?"

---

End Chapter 4

---