Disclaimer: Fushigi Yuugi not mine, it's Ms. Watase's.

Warnings: More language.

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Outsider

Chapter 5

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There'd been a mild panic when Tasuki was discovered missing from the inn room where Mitsukake had put him to rest. But since the spirit-seishi had been peeking in to check on him, on average, every forty-five seconds, Chichiri reasoned that he couldn't have been gone very long, and it took only moments for him to pinpoint the location of Tasuki's life force—although he might have guessed.

Chichiri wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of stored ale and moved quietly down the creaky wooden steps into the inn's wine cellar. The only light came from a small glazed window near the ceiling, but it was enough to spot the forlorn figure he was looking for among the tall racks of bottles and stacks of kegs.

Tasuki sat on the floor against the wall, draped in shadow. His face was turned into the dark corner, invisible. An open wine bottle hung carelessly from the hand that rested on his bent knee, but Chichiri saw that the bottle was still mostly full. Tasuki didn't move or look up as Chichiri reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You had everyone worried, y'know."

No reply.

Chichiri sat down on a keg. "You're supposed to be resting."

Obstinate silence.

"Tasuki—"

"Go away," Tasuki growled.

"Tasuki, no one blames you for what happened."

An empty, broken laugh came from the shadows. "They should."

"That spell—"

"Fuck the spell. Don't you get it?" Tasuki's voice trembled near the breaking point. "Everything I did…everything I told Taka and Mi—" His voice cracked over her name. He swallowed. "It was all true," he continued in a hoarse whisper. "The fucking spell didn't make me say anything I hadn't already thought…it didn't make me do anything I hadn't already…wanted…" This time he couldn't go on, and Chichiri heard a harsh, shuddery sigh as Tasuki fought a losing battle for control.

"I know."

After a long silence, Tasuki lifted his head to look at Chichiri. Chichiri wasn't surprised to see wet tracks down his cheeks.

"I've known for a long time."

Tasuki lowered his head into the shadows again. "Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered wearily.

"Because I knew how close to your heart it was," Chichiri said gently. "And I didn't think you'd admit it. The time never seemed right to try to talk to you about it—" He broke off briefly. "Maybe I should have tried anyway," he murmured. "If it would have spared you some pain…but I didn't foresee our enemy using it against you. I'm sorry, Tasuki."

"What the hell are you apologizing to me for, you idiot?" A ghost of genuine humor had found its way back into Tasuki's voice, and Chichiri relaxed a little. "You're not the one who fucked up."

"Well…I suppose you have a point. You're the one who owes an apology, you know…to Miaka and Taka."

Brief silence. "I thought you said no one blamed me," Tasuki said bitterly.

"Not for what happened, no. Not when you didn't have control over your actions. But the thoughts your actions were based on—they don't really show a great deal of faith in your friends, do they? Faith in Taka, to do the best he can for Miaka…or faith in Miaka, to know what she wants, or to be able to handle the pain."

"She shouldn't have to handle it—there shouldn't be any!" Tasuki snapped, sitting suddenly upright. He clunked the nearly full wine bottle forcefully onto the wooden floor, and some of its contents splattered onto the boards.

"There's always pain, Tasuki." Chichiri's calm voice undercut Tasuki's anger. "People make mistakes…they misunderstand each other…they hold grudges, keep things inside that should be shared…don't ask the questions they should ask…" Chichiri's voice grew softer as he spoke. "And sometimes things happen that never, ever should happen.

"You don't measure a relationship between people by how much pain there is…you measure it by how well they weather it."

Tasuki stared tight-lipped at the floor. Sometimes I forget how young he still is, Chichiri thought. He waited silently, patiently, while Tasuki thought that over.

"…I can't face them," he muttered finally, turning his face back into the shadows. "Not yet."

Chichiri smiled. "You don't have to, Tasuki. We have a little time. I can clear everyone out of the way for a while so you can rest, and you can face them when you're ready."

"Don't hold your breath waiting," Tasuki muttered. But he got to his feet, slowly and stiffly…leaving the bottle of wine where it was.

---

Keiji glanced over at Tasuki. He sat on the arm of the couch, a few feet and a few miles away, staring down at the little knife he was polishing.

He faced them then. It took a little while, and I made sure everyone stayed away—corporeal or otherwise— while he finished pulling himself together. But he did it. Even as horrified and ashamed as he was with himself, he walked out of that room on his own, went to Miaka and Taka, faced them and apologized, because he knew he owed it to them. His own sense of justice wouldn't let him hide for very long.

That's the part of him I have to appeal to.

"You owe Miaka an apology again," he murmured.

Tasuki's hands stopped moving.

"She's safe at home. Well, right now I guess she's at school." Keiji glanced at his watch. "Probably just now getting out of math class. Then she'll go to lunch."

Tasuki didn't look at him, but Keiji knew he was listening intently. Good. "After the police found her, the doctor sent her home from the hospital with a clean bill of health. She's all right," he said softly, and even without opening his senses entirely he could feel Tasuki relax a little.

"But she's been distressed, though she's hiding it. You couldn't fool her by not telling her, y'know. She knew it was you." Keiji smiled. "She knew me the first time we met again, before I said a word.

"Everyone's made it back. Mitsukake was the last before you—we found him early this summer. Miaka was so happy. But she kept on asking about you, kept wondering. And worrying. She must've nagged me into wandering around half the city, trying to track you down, y'know? I kept telling her that if you hadn't gotten your memories back, I probably wouldn't be able to find you, but she couldn't let it rest."

Tasuki turned the knife in his hands over once, staring at it. "…And Tamahome?" he finally said, very quietly.

"Taka is here too. He's been here since they returned from defeating Tenkou."

Tasuki said nothing, but his tension had returned. Keiji waited.

"I thought it was him," Tasuki muttered at last, nearly a whisper.

"Hm?"

"When I heard you on the stairs." He turned the knife over again. "I…wasn't thinking all that clearly. But I thought it'd be him. Coming after me for…hurting Miaka. Again." He stopped with a faint, humorless chuckle, closing his eyes. "Kinda funny, huh? Like a kid afraid of the bogeyman. I mean, it's Taka. Last time we were in the book he couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. But I couldn't help it. He forgave me last time—hell if I know why. I sure didn't deserve it. This time…heh. Figured I was in for it.

"I didn't know it was you until you knocked the crap out of me with that energy blast." He smirked faintly. "It hurt like hell, but it cleared my head like nothin' else."

"You're welcome," Keiji said dryly.

"You should've seen yourself, just walkin' up to me like that with that knife still in you. Shit. Even though I knew it was you by then, I didn't know what the hell you were gonna do."

Tasuki finally turned his head and looked at Keiji directly. He opened his mouth, closed it as his eyes fell on the bandage, and looked at the floor. "…Sorry."

Keiji smiled faintly. "I suppose I can forgive you."

"Didn't ask you to," Tasuki said tetchily, sliding off the couch arm and crossing the room. "An' I don't think I asked you to come waltzin' in here lookin' for me, either—how the hell did you get clear up here, anyway? You didn't zap everybody downstairs—I wasn't so far gone that I wouldn't have heard that." He put the little knife on the dresser and dug into a drawer for a shirt.

Keiji smiled wider—he couldn't help it. The more he talks, the more he sounds like himself. "I didn't have to." Then his smile faded a little, as it occurred to him how neatly Tasuki had distracted him.

He's gotten better at control, Keiji realized. He's showing me only what he wants me to see. He watched Tasuki pull on a black t-shirt, covering the Flame Runners' sigil tattoo on his back. "What are you going to do, Tasuki?" he said quietly.

Tasuki shrugged as he yanked on socks and stuffed his feet into his boots. "Just what I always do. I been mopin' around up here long enough. Got a gang to run."

Keiji restrained his impatience and closed his eyes. "About Miaka, Tasuki."

Tasuki shot him a glare, and reached for the large knife, which lay on the dresser. He slid it into the sheath on his thigh. "Not gonna do anything about her," he said gruffly. "She's better off where she is. So'm I."

Dammit. I've missed something. I'm losing him. "Everyone's waiting for you, Tasuki," Keiji said softly. "Especially Miaka, you know. Don't you want to see her again?"

Tasuki straightened up slowly, his profile turned to Keiji, his eyes closed. The grimace of pain on his face made Keiji's throat knot. It passed, leaving his face blank, and he opened his eyes, staring across the room.

"No." Tasuki turned away.

Keiji gritted his teeth as Tasuki sat down on the edge of his bed to tie his bootlaces. For a moment he almost reached out, almost put a suggestion on Tasuki like he'd done on the others downstairs. It'd be better for him—he obviously still isn't thinking straight—if he just talked to them—just came with me—

He'd never trust me again.

Keiji sighed heavily. The power he had subconsciously gathered in his moment of temptation dissipated back into its normal flow. I can't do that to him. Actually, I'm not even sure it would work. He's more sensitive than his henchman—I think it's pretty likely he'd detect it. And if he knew I was trying to mess around with his head…no. I can't. Damn. Keiji rubbed his forehead.

Tasuki had stopped fiddling with his bootlaces and was watching him intently.

Just how sensitive is he? Keiji wondered, unnerved.

Tasuki's eyes narrowed. "Think it's time for you to go, Chiri," he said, jerking his bootlaces into double knots and standing up. "Though I don't know how the hell you expect to get outta here past the guys downstairs—forgive me if I ain't gonna hold your hand while you stroll out."

Keiji extended his senses again, just a little. And smiled. That's what I thought. The shrine. There'll be enough. "Perish the thought." He got up, carefully, and found his shirt and coat lying next to the couch; ignoring the blood, he put them back on. Tasuki continued to watch him. Keiji put his hands in his pockets and wandered, not toward the door, but toward the shrine. "I'll go, Tasuki. If you can tell me something."

Tasuki stared at him suspiciously. "…What is it?" he muttered finally.

"Do you remember how you died in the Universe of the Four Gods?"

Tasuki stood very still. Slowly, he lifted one hand to press against his chest.

"I coulda gone the rest of the year without thinkin' of that, damn you," he murmured wearily, turning away and picking up his leather trench coat from the end of the bed. "An' here I thought I had nightmares before."

Keiji closed his eyes, seeing it again.

He ran at that thing full tilt, no hesitation. He was in the most incandescent rage I ever saw him in. No wisecracks beyond that one insult, and then…

"No more waiting…" And then along with the anger…that exultation…

I have to know.

"Tasuki…" Keiji found his voice wouldn't go above a whisper. "Why did you rush that demon after I told you to wait?"

Tasuki turned around, and was caught by Keiji's stare. He was still for a moment. Then he let the coat drop back onto the bed.

"I had to stop it, Chichiri," Tasuki finally said quietly. "You said you could close the gate, but we were runnin' out of time, and you were runnin' out of steam. Hell, I had to half carry you up to that cave, and I was the one who'd been swingin' the damn sword half the goddamn day. I was tired as hell—you were about to keel over.

Tasuki inhaled and took a step closer to Keiji, letting his arms drop back to his sides. "That…an' I wanted that sadistic bastard so bad I could taste it," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "Right then, by my own damn hand, I wanted it dead beyond any doubt. 'Duty of a celestial warrior' my ass. After what we saw at that farm…it was all kinds of personal."

His face relaxed at last, and he sighed and turned away. He reached up and ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing it even more. "I can't apologize, if that's what you're lookin' for. It was worth it to know I destroyed the damn thing. It didn't come back, did it?"

"No. When you killed the demon, the sorcerer died with it, and the gate collapsed."

"Good." He was silent for a moment, and then his eyes widened. He slowly looked over his shoulder at Keiji with an incredulous expression. "…You thought I did it on purpose. That I wanted that thing to kill me. Didn't you?"

Keiji looked at him, startled. I was shielding that thought. Did he guess, or…? "I…wondered. I knew you missed everyone. Miaka especially. I—"

Tasuki suddenly slammed a fist against the dresser, cutting Keiji off. "Fuck, you know me better than that, Chichiri! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Keiji turned away and looked up at the image of the phoenix. It really was just a cheap thing, mass-produced—the characters poorly painted, the image blurry. But something about the light of the candles and the gentle curl of the incense smoke gave it an extra dimension. He pressed his hands together and lowered his head. Time to get ready to go. "I had most of a century to think about it after you died," he whispered.

---

They'd buried him quietly on Mount Reikaku, with only Kouji, Chichiri, and the other bandits present. Dowager Empress Houki had tried to insist on a full ceremonial burial as a Celestial Warrior at the palace, beside Hotohori, Chiriko, and Mitsukake…but Chichiri knew what Tasuki had wanted, and Kouji had backed him. The Empress had settled for a prayer service in front of the palace; and the plaza and courtyard had been packed full; Boushin, then seven years old, had cried silently all the way through it, tears leaking steadily from his wide green eyes as he clung to his mother with one hand and Chichiri with the other.

After the burial at Reikaku, Chichiri had given the tessen to Kouji; when they returned to the stronghold, Kouji had drunk himself into oblivion. Chichiri had stayed at Reikaku long enough to make sure Kouji would be all right, and then he'd set out, alone, for Mount Taikyoku.

The journey had taken two weeks. He'd thought it might ease his heart, but he'd been just as numb when he set foot on the mountain as when he'd left Reikaku. He'd hardly slept as he'd traveled.

When he'd arrived at dusk, the Nyan-Nyans were solemn and quiet. One by one they'd come to him and embraced him, silver glowing tears flowing down their tiny cheeks. He'd gone to his old chamber, where he'd first found out who and what he was. He'd sat alone for hours, trying to meditate, but not even able to break the surface.

He was still sitting there when Taiitsukun came to him late that night; she'd put aside her disguise, and with the Nyan-Nyans surrounding him in their true form, trying to comfort him, he'd broken down at last.

"This is a bitter reward for a faithful servant," Taiitsukun had said to him softly and sadly as he wept, "to ask you to go on alone. Your work is not done, Chichiri…you still have a long and arduous task to complete. Much of it will be thankless, unappreciated, and there will be no one for you to share it with…but if you do it well, as I know that you will, you will see peace in Kounan before you follow Tasuki and the others."

A hand turned his tear-streaked face up, and the glorious face smiled upon him gently. "But you need not take up your duty again until your wounds have had time to heal, body and soul. Rest, Chichiri." The hand touched his forehead in blessing, and then he was alone with the Nyan-Nyans, who put him to bed with kisses and tears when he'd cried himself out.

---

Emerging from his brief trance, Keiji sighed faintly. There…ready. I can use it now. He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should have known you wouldn't do that…not just as an escape."

He expected another snarky comment, but there was silence behind him. He turned from the shrine.

Tasuki had both hands over his face, and Keiji heard a harsh breath, not quite a sob. Startled, Keiji stared at him… and then opened his senses fully again, letting himself see Tasuki's aura.

It was flickering even more brightly than before, its flames leaping…and within the flames Keiji saw fragmented reflections of the memory he'd just called forth. Boushin's tears; the burial; Kouji passed out in his chair, an empty sake bowl in one hand, the tessen clutched to his chest in the other; himself as Chichiri, gazing blindly into the darkness in an empty room.

Keiji stared in shock. He saw it…he saw everything…I was in trance, and he saw it…he's at least as sensitive as I am, maybe more…

"Tasuki…" he whispered.

"Get out of here," Tasuki said in a choked hiss from behind his hands. "Get out of here and don't come back."

"Tasuki—I didn't mean—"

Tasuki turned away.

Keiji swallowed hard and stepped toward the shrine. Now I've done it. Fighting down tears, he closed his eyes and pressed his hands together again. He pulled.

The shrine held years' worth of stored power; it flowed into Keiji like a wellspring. He hadn't dared to count on this much. It replenished his depleted reserves, until every nerve quivered, and he still hadn't tapped it out. Far from it. His aura brightened until it almost matched the flare he'd produced earlier. He looked up at Tasuki. The red light gleamed off Tasuki's black hair again, but he didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry," Keiji whispered. Then he looked up at the image of Suzaku again…and let the lonely apartment dissolve into blackness around him.

---

"Okay, I'm getting nervous."

"You said that fifteen minutes ago."

"I was uneasy fifteen minutes ago. Now I'm nervous."

"He'll be fine."

"You're nervous too. You're chewing your fingers."

Karuko put his hand back in his lap. "No, I'm not."

"You were."

"Would you rather I tapped my foot?"

Ryuen ground his teeth. "Shut up, Karuko."

There was a thump against the car, and both of them jumped. Ryuen glanced in the rear-view mirror, and then he was out of the car like a shot, the driver-side door flying open. "Keiji!"

Karuko started to leap after him, but he'd forgotten his fastened seatbelt. Cursing quietly, he fumbled with the latch until it unfastened, and then slid out of the seat.

Keiji was slumped against the back end of the car. Ryuen was trying to get him upright; Karuko moved around the car to Keiji's other side.

"Keiji! Hey, c'mon!" Ryuen shook him by the shoulders, and Keiji suddenly hissed sharply and pulled away, staggering back from the car. He almost went over backward, but Karuko ducked in to support him. Ryuen saw the blood-soaked shoulder of his jacket and gasped. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry! What the hell—no, c'mon, let's just get out of here! Karuko, get him in!" He unlocked the back door, cussing at his shaking hands; when he jerked the car door open, Karuko settled Keiji in the back seat, shut the door, and then went around to get in beside him. Ryuen dashed for the open driver's door.

As Ryuen started the car, Karuko locked his own door, fastened his seatbelt and turned to look at Keiji. He was pale and sweating. "Chichiri…what happened?" he asked softly.

Ryuen pulled out of the parking lot entirely too fast, and Keiji slumped sideways with a gasp of pain; Karuko moved over to support him. "Dammit, Ryuen, slow down!" he snapped.

"You're joking, right? He's bleeding, we've got to get him to the hospital—"

Keiji shook his head. "Bleeding's stopped," he whispered hoarsely. "Just reaction…from teleporting."

Karuko blinked. "He…says the bleeding's stopped," he edited for simplicity. "Slow down, Ryuen. You're going to hit someone. And stop looking in the rear view mirror. You drive."

"Yes, your Majesty," Ryuen muttered.

Karuko rolled his eyes, but turned his attention back to Keiji. Carefully he turned back the side of Keiji's jacket, and saw the bandaging beneath the shirt. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Keiji. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Keiji shook his head. "Just need to rest," he rasped. He mustered a weak smile for Karuko. "Your place all right? Don't want to…try to get to mine…" His face grayed a little, and his eyes lost focus. Alarmed, Karuko snapped his fingers loudly in Keiji's face, and then carefully shook his good shoulder. Keiji blinked, inhaled deeply, and his eyes cleared.

"It's fine, Keiji. We'll go to my apartment. Hear that, Ryuen?" he added loudly.

"Yes, your Majesty!"

"Ryuen…"

---

Keiji stayed conscious through the drive, and was able to walk with support when they reached Karuko's building. "Ryuen…call Keisuke…and Taka," Keiji murmured as Ryuen sat him down on the couch in the living room and got his coat and belt off. "Wake me tonight…"

"Keiji, are you sure you shouldn't go to the hospital?" Ryuen frowned into his face, deeply worried. Keiji's color hadn't come back, and he was short of breath.

"Yes…" Karuko brought a glass of water, and had to hold it for him; Keiji's hands were shaking. He drank most of it, and then lay down on the couch with Ryuen's help. Karuko put a blanket over him. "They'd only…treat me for shock…and you're already doing that…" He closed his eyes. "Wake me tonight," he repeated in a whisper, and then he sank into sleep like a stone into water.

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End Chapter 5

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