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

Warnings: Very mild language.

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Outsider

Chapter 6

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Taiten mounted the stairs slowly.

If he hasn't gotten his feet under him by now, he's not going to. Time to find out if he's going to get his head out of his ass on his own. He looked at the door; it was solidly, silently closed as it had been the last few days.

He knocked firmly.

A few heartbeats of silence passed, and Taiten's heart sank lower with each one. He reached out and turned the handle, and stepped inside, uninvited.

Three candles were lined up on the shelf in the far corner. The glow silhouetted a figure sitting before the shrine; they gleamed on a mop of black hair, seeming to turn it orange. His boss sat on the floor in front of the shrine, shirtless, looking at the image above.

The scattered liquor bottles were gone. The clutter had been cleared away. The bed was even made. Taiten stared.

"Don't be shy—come right in, why don'tcha," his boss drawled, shifting and getting to his feet. The bright tendrils of the flame tattoo on his back seemed to flicker as he moved. There was no slur in his voice; he stretched casually and cracked his neck. When he looked over his shoulder at Taiten, the signature smirk was back on his face. "Time for a stroll around the neighborhood. Be ready in five."

Taiten blinked, but had discipline enough not to let his jaw drop. Maybe that friend of his did some good after all. His boss walked over and pulled a t-shirt on over his head; he glanced at Taiten again as he started to stow his throwing knives. "What're you waiting for, New Year's? Move."

Taiten nodded curtly and headed toward the door. Part of him was relieved he'd be spared the messy necessity of a takeover.

The rest of him wasn't so sure. That was quick. He spent four or five days deteriorating and then he snaps back in a few hours?

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and glanced over his shoulder at the boss's door. Then he went on down the hall, shaking his head. Not for the first time, he wished he knew what his boss was thinking.

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I think I'm going out of my mind.

I thought I'd let it go, or at least that I was getting close. That last gasp of caring about people, of wanting something more than what I could hold in my hands. It took a lot of drinking, but I thought I'd finally got it under my thumb. At least I wasn't seeing their faces anymore.

Goddamn you, Chichiri.

I heard those footsteps, and they weren't Taiten's—too light. They weren't any of the other guys'—too careful. And I think I must have picked up something else, some power that I was too drunk off my ass to figure out. I can't come up with any better reason for the way I panicked. As those footsteps got halfway up, I was shaking. Some memory was in my head, about another set of stairs, with me at the top, and someone was coming up, and I was holding all the cards, and I had all the power——

--and I was still scared shitless.

Tamahome.

As soon as that name crossed my mind, I really wanted a deep hole to crawl into. It had to be Tamahome. And if it was Tamahome…after what I'd done to Miaka…I was dead.

Six steps left. Five.

I finally unfroze and got my ass off the couch—almost fell over. I went for the only safe place left—the shrine.

Something else caught my eye, though. My knife, Honoo, was on the dresser next to my throwing knives. It stood for what I'd accomplished, as little and low as that might have been.

Some of my calm came back. I was armed; I had the advantage of surprise; I had the upper hand. I took the throwing knives. This was my place. Whether it was Tamahome or not, someone was trespassing. They'd find out just how bad an idea that was. I went to the shrine without making a sound. When the doorknob turned, I blew the candles out.

The light from outside the room showed him perfectly before he closed the door. I knew just where he was, and where to aim.

So it was a big surprise to throw a knife at my enemy…and miss.

When the room lit up like a goddamn lava lamp, it just about blinded me. I aimed my second throw way too high, though I think I still almost clipped his ear.

And then that chi blast tossed me on the floor like a giant rag doll, like I'd grabbed a live-voltage wire, and my whole goddamn world turned wrong side out.

I knew it was Chichiri facing me, though I'm not sure how I knew. And as the room stopped playing merry-go-round and I managed to get back on my feet, I realized that wasn't all I knew. I knew he was mad as hell…though with one of my knives still stuck in him, could I blame him? I knew he'd come alone, but that someone was waiting for him. I knew he was worried. I knew he was scared. I knew he hurt so bad it made me sweat.

It was too much for me to figure out at once. Right then I couldn't focus on anything but the "mad as hell" part. It was like being in one of those crazy action movies, watching him walk up to me cool as ice with that knife in his shoulder, but three times as freaky, because I knew exactly how much it hurt, and still he faced me down unarmed.

I was frosty cold sober by then, but it crossed my mind that even though it wasn't Tamahome, I might just be in trouble anyway.

---

Ryuen knelt by the couch and looked at Keiji.

I don't think he's even moved since he fell asleep. The young man's chest barely rose as he breathed. I wish he'd let us take him to the hospital. I guess he doesn't want to have to explain the wound to anyone.

"Keiji?" He kept his voice low, not wanting to startle his friend, but the man didn't even twitch. Frowning, Ryuen rubbed his knuckles against Keiji's wrist and gave it a squeeze. He couldn't shake the injured shoulder. "Keiji…wake up."

Keiji stirred, moaned faintly—it hurt Ryuen to hear—and opened bloodshot eyes that didn't quite focus. Damn. He really doesn't look so good… Keiji closed his eyes again, and then slowly moved his hand to rub his face. "What time is it?" he said in a distant, foggy voice.

"Seven-thirty." Keiji began to struggle to sit up; Ryuen winced and tried to help him. "Keisuke's on his way here, and so are Miaka and Taka—and they're bringing Shou and Hiroshi."

That woke Keiji up. "At this hour? Shou's mother is going to kill us…"

"He's got permission. His schoolwork's done. I asked. All of us should be here." Ryuen looked at Keiji as he sat, shivering, on the sofa. He laid his hand lightly against Keiji's forehead.

Keiji sighed. "Stop that."

Ryuen removed his hand. "I guess you're not running a fever, but I'm fixing you some tea and some soup and you are going to drink it. And you'd better get that shirt off before they get here—if Miaka sees that blood, she's going to freak out." Ryuen stood up.

"If you want it off, turn up the heat, would you?" Keiji muttered, wrapping his arms around himself.

---

About ten minutes later, Keiji was settled on the couch again in a pressed button-down shirt, borrowed from Karuko, which hid the bandages on his shoulder. He had a cup of soup in his hands and one of tea on the end table. Karuko moved about quietly, bringing his kitchen chairs out for some supplementary seating to the couch and the floor cushions around the traditional Japanese table in the living room.

Ryuen sat down again beside Keiji and looked at him hopefully. "I don't guess you'll give me a preview or something of what happened, huh?"

Keiji swallowed some soup and shook his head. "I don't want to tell it twice."

Ryuen sighed. "Did you get your explanation, at least?"

Keiji smiled slightly. "Yes."

Ryuen perked as a car pulled up outside, and bounced up to look out the window. "Keisuke's here." He opened the door to the knock a minute later, and Keisuke came in, shrugging his bomber jacket off.

"Welcome," Karuko said, looking up cheerfully from setting down a tray with the teapot and cups. "Please sit down. Do you want anything to drink?"

Keisuke grinned. "Don't guess you have any beer?"

"I do, actually," Karuko said serenely, heading for the kitchen.

Ryuen rolled his eyes. "Some things ne-e-ever change."

"What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Keisuke looked at Keiji, taking in his pale face, but said nothing; he just looked troubled, watching through the window for the others to arrive. A grin escaped him when Karuko came back with a cold can and tossed it to him.

A few minutes later, two more cars pulled up, and Ryuen was back at the window. "They're here!"

Keiji watched quietly from the couch as Karuko opened the door. Yui and Tetsuya came in first, Yui tugging off the scarf that covered her blond hair. Tetsuya ruefully took off his sunglasses for a few moments; they'd fogged over with the contrast between the chilly air outdoors and the warmer air in the apartment.

Hiroshi entered behind them. He bore the strongest resemblance to his previous self, except for Taka. He was a tall, strong, square-jawed man, dark-eyed, with a low, soothing voice, though his thick dark hair was cut conservatively short. It was a strange irony; of all of the seishi, he had regained the fewest memories. However, he'd inherited Mitsukake's deep calm and his steady nature.

Shou, coming in behind Hiroshi, displayed little resemblance to the youngest Suzaku seishi except in his sharp, clear green eyes. At sixteen and a half, he was only a little shorter than Taka, his brown hair spilling across his forehead so that it frequently fell in his eyes. He hugged Yui and Ryuen shyly, waved at Karuko, and then brightened when he saw Keiji across the room. Keiji smiled back at him.

Taka's tall form hesitated just outside the door and moved aside to let Miaka enter first. She was wearing a heavier fleece-lined coat against the unseasonable chill outside; her hair was caught back in a simple ponytail. Taka entered behind her and slipped Miaka's coat off for her after she unzipped it, earning a smile and a fond peck. Taka grinned as he helped Karuko gather people's coats.

Amid the bustle and chatter, Miaka looked across the room at Keiji. She smiled, but even though he smiled back, her smile faded as she took in his pale, weary face.

She came across the room to him; Keiji saw Taka look up and watch her.

Miaka sat on the arm of the couch, looking down at him. "Are you all right, Chichiri?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Miaka. Just tired." He looked up into her worried green eyes, and gave her hand a squeeze. With his other hand he patted the couch next to him. "Why don't you and Taka sit here?"

After a few minutes of bustling, choosing seats, and serving drinks, everyone was settled: Keiji and Taka on the couch with Miaka between them; Hiroshi, Keisuke and Tetsuya in chairs with Yui on a cushion at Tetsuya's feet; Shou and Karuko at the table, and Ryuen cross-legged on the floor by the couch.

Keiji glanced around at them, then closed his eyes and began.

---

Shit. Was Chichiri always that much stronger than me?

Once he grabbed me, that was it. I couldn't budge. My knife hand lost all feeling in a couple of seconds—only the strength I'd built up over years of practice let me hang on to Honoo at all. He was careful—really careful—but I could tell that a good hard twist would break my arm, or yank it out of the socket.

And through all that, he was in agony. I knew, because I felt it too. I don't know how. I'd felt it before, sort of like an echo, after he knocked me down with that chi bolt; but that close to him, I felt it like I'd been stabbed myself. I tried to break his grip. Ha. Not happening.

I could hear his pain in his voice, and I couldn't believe how steady it was, when he told me to drop the knife. I knew he didn't want to have to hurt me. That chi blast had cleared my head, but it wasn't until then that I really got my wits back. It was Chichiri—Chichiri, for God's sake, my best goddamn friend in two worlds besides Kouji—and all that pain he was in was my fault.

What the hell was I doing?

I closed my eyes, and let it go. The knife, and everything else. I'd thought I'd never see him again…and here he was. I was safe after all. For a few minutes at least, I didn't have to hide.

He let go of me. God, it was a relief. I sank down on my knees and just didn't move for a little bit. I heard him kick the knife away. He didn't say anything—and then I felt another stab of that pain, and a funny gray feeling that just wasn't right. I looked up just in time to see him keel over on the floor, his hand sliding away from that knife in his shoulder.

Oh, shit.

It wasn't too bad, though. I'd been stabbed worse myself. He didn't even twitch when I pulled the knife out, although he stirred and moaned a little when I pressed down on the wound to stop the bleeding. I got him cleaned up and bandaged; he'd lost a lot of blood, but I thought he'd be all right. Getting him up on the couch was the hard part.

Nothing to do then but hurry up and wait. I put Honoo away, got my throwing knife and cleaned it, and sat down with the polishing cloth to wait for him to wake up.

---

Keiji stared across the room for a moment when he finished speaking, then looked at the faces around him. Karuko was grave, Keisuke tight-lipped, Shou stricken with tears in his eyes; Ryuen had his hands up to his mouth in Nuriko's signature gesture of dismay. Yui was looking at the floor, troubled, and Tetsuya's hand rested gently on her hair. Hiroshi's eyes were distant, thoughts turned inward.

Keiji glanced over at Taka, who looked grim, and then finally at Miaka. Tears were drying on her cheeks, and she was leaning her head on Taka's shoulder; Taka was holding her hand.

"I'm not sure what he'll do now," Keiji said softly. "I made it as clear as I could that we wanted him back with us…but he's so damned stubborn. He feels guilty about what he did to Miaka…doubly so because it isn't the first time. He's convinced himself that he doesn't deserve to be forgiven again. He's determined to stay where he is, and I couldn't change his mind." He sighs. "In fact, I made it worse. Those things I said he saw in my memories…it shocked and upset him, and I think he believed I showed him that on purpose. I don't think he realizes he picked it up all on his own."

Tetsuya spoke suddenly. "Do you think he's always been able to do that? He said he didn't know it was you until you hit him with a chi blast…"

Keiji grimaced. "That's another thing…I couldn't figure it out at the time, but now I don't think he could." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache begin to throb right between his eyes. "I think that chi bolt might have triggered abilities that were latent or subconscious until then. I'm sure he had something before—no ordinary person could have thrown a knife like that after drinking as much as he had. Ordinary people can develop the ability to mask their chi the way he did…but it's rare for them to be able to mask it so completely that a strong sensitive can't detect it at all.

"But now…he's a lot stronger, maybe as strong as or stronger than I am…and he's had no training and doesn't have anybody to guide him. That's dangerous."

"Why is that?" Miaka was looking at him.

Keiji gazed back at her. He'd tried to tell everything and be as honest as possible…but he'd left one thing out.

"Everyone's waiting for you, Tasuki," Keiji said softly. "Especially Miaka, you know. Don't you want to see her again?"

"No."

I couldn't tell her that. I just couldn't say it—I know she's strong, but it would hurt her. I don't think it's really true, though maybe he's convinced himself that it is. She has so much faith that he'll come back to us if someone just says the right words to him. It's not going to be that simple.

"I'm not sure how far his power extends," he answered Miaka. "It's possible that his sensitivity is only to me, since I'm the one who triggered him—but what if it isn't? He could be broadcasting his emotions and his thoughts to everyone, without knowing how to stop it. Though he might learn, eventually, how to control it himself."

"Eventually," Ryuen muttered; his expression twisted as he tried to picture the consequences.

"What's important hasn't changed," Miaka said firmly. She sat up straight. "We still have to get him out of there. We have to! Those gangs are so violent—any time they could get into a fight, and we could lose him, just like that! We have to at least try!"

Keiji rubbed his forehead, feeling the ache intensify between his eyes…though it was probably just dehydration, and not his aggravation with his stubborn former Priestess. Probably. "Miaka, it won't—"

"Don't say it won't be easy!" she snapped, and glared at him. Keiji blinked. "Why do people keep saying that?" Miaka went on. She turned her scowl on Ryuen, and he hunched his shoulders sheepishly. "We've done things a lot more dangerous than this. We didn't sit around talking about how hard they were going to be—we just did them, because we had to! And another thing—" Her accusing gaze flicked back to Keiji. "You are not leaving me behind this time. I'm going with you."

"Miaka…" Keiji didn't really have the energy to finish the sentence. Miaka's jaw was set, her eyes bright with a familiar drive. He let out the rest of his breath in a sigh, and looked at Taka.

Taka's face was also set as he looked down at Miaka. Keiji watched his silent battle. Finally, Taka closed his eyes. "I don't like it either," he said quietly, "but I think she should go." Faces turned toward him from all over the room, mostly astonished. Miaka looked up at her protector and smiled. "Tasuki…won't hurt Miaka now that he has his memories back," Taka said. "She's more likely to be safe around him than anyone else. And I think he'll listen to her." He opened his eyes again. "I don't think I can go," he said softly. "From what Chichiri's saying, I think my face is the last one he's going to want to see."

"I'm not sure about that," Keiji said. "He wants your forgiveness, too, Taka. Maybe yours more than anyone's except Miaka's."

Taka only shook his head a little. "I really don't think I should be there."

"All right," Keiji said. He looked at Miaka, then around at the others. "We'll go back in three days. Ryuen, Karuko…" Ryuen perked up. "I'd like both of you along. You can defend Miaka in case there's trouble with the rest of Tasuki's gang."

Ryuen grinned broadly. "All right! I mean, I don't want us to have trouble, but I wouldn't mind another shot at those guys."

"Hiroshi, do you think you'll be able to go with us?"

Everyone looked toward the large man in the chair in the corner. His dark eyes narrowed in thought, and then he nodded. "I can do it," he rumbled. "Just let me know when."

Shou sighed, laying his head on his arms. "I suppose I get to play rear guard with Taka," he muttered.

Keiji smiled. "I'm sorry, Shou. But if your mother—"

"I want to see him, too!" Shou burst out, sitting up straight. "And if he doesn't listen to you, and he won't come back, I'll never see him again!"

"He will come back, Shou," Miaka said.

Shou leaned his chin on his hand. "You can't promise that. You don't know what he'll do."

"No, but you know me. And you know I won't give up while there's still a chance."

Shou's softer green eyes met Miaka's determined ones. Something in her expression seemed to appease him. He smiled a little, and nodded.

"We'll come over and wait with you and Taka, Shou," Yui said, speaking for the first time. Shou smiled shyly.

Keiji looked around the room again. "All right, then," he said again. "Miaka, Ryuen, Karuko, Hiroshi. I'll get in touch with you the day after tomorrow." Keiji looked at Miaka, who gazed directly back, and he suddenly found himself smiling. "If the five of us can't convince that bonehead to come back, nobody can."

---

The gathering relaxed into something much less intense. Karuko and Shou got into a conversation about one of Shou's classes; Tetsuya asked Hiroshi about his work at the hospital. Wrapped in familiar voices, Keiji felt himself getting drowsy again. With effort, he pushed himself to his feet. He ignored Ryuen's covert look of concern and headed down the hall.

In the bathroom, he splashed cool water on his face. It helped a little. Trying to resist the call of the comfortable couch back in the living room, he stepped into the tiny kitchen and leaned on the counter.

A footstep made him look up. Miaka came in with an armload of glasses, and Keiji raised his eyebrows and started to step toward her. "Uh, Miaka, let me get some of those—"

"No, no, I've got it!" she said brightly. He stepped hastily out of the way, but she actually managed to get her load to the counter without dropping any. "See?" she said happily. "I'm getting better!" She swung an arm for emphasis.

Keiji was ready, and leaned in quickly to catch the glass she knocked off the edge of the counter. Miaka grinned at him sheepishly. "Well, see? At least it wasn't all of them…" Keiji chuckled and shook his head.

Miaka turned to the sink to rinse the glasses. Keiji watched her. "You won't change your mind, will you?" he said.

She didn't look up. "No," she said. "I won't."

"What you said about Tasuki—that we could lose him in an instant—that applies to you, too, you know. If we go, and there's trouble, and those guys are armed with more than knives and billy clubs, it could be over for any one of us in a heartbeat, Miaka."

There was a silence. "Funny, I don't see you trying to talk any of the others out of going," Miaka said. Her voice was still low, but angry. "You asked them to go—but when I said I was going, you looked at Taka—as if I'm just a little kid, and anything important is all his decision!"

"You don't think he should have a say in whether you do something as dangerous as this?" Keiji looked sharply down at her.

Miaka lifted her chin and glared at Keiji. "Of course he should! And he did. But you weren't expecting him to say yes, were you? You thought he'd back you up and tell me not to go!"

That was true, and it stung. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to channel anger and frustration into something more constructive. "That isn't the point. I just thought that if anyone could change your mind about putting yourself in danger, it would be Taka. Do you think I want to come back here, if something happens to you, and tell him that you got hurt, or worse?"

"Chichiri, you don't have to scare me." Now her voice was threatening tears, and he looked at her again. Miaka's green eyes were swimming, but she was still glaring. "I'm already scared. I already know that it's dangerous. I already know that someone could get killed. How is that any different from the Universe of the Four Gods, whether it's a knife or a gun or magic or something else? I saw Nuriko die when he'd just been talking to us a moment before—do you think I don't know how fast it can happen?" The tears spilled down her cheeks. "But I'm not going to let that stop me. He came to this world because of me. And now he's in trouble, and he needs me. And I'm going to do whatever I can." She turned back to the sink, scrubbing at her eyes with the backs of her hands, and started rinsing glasses again, jerking at the faucet a little harder than necessary.

I haven't been listening to her at all, have I? Ruefully, Keiji turned around and laid a hand lightly on top of Miaka's head. "I'm sorry. You're right. I have been treating you differently from everyone else. And it isn't fair."

"No, it isn't," Miaka grumbled; but her scowl was fading. She looked up at him. "Are you going to stop trying to talk me out of it, then?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I still don't like it, but I guess I don't have to like it, y'know?"

A small smile found its way onto her lips. "That's right. You don't."

Ryuen peered around the doorjamb with an anxious face, and suddenly Keiji wondered how much the others had overheard. "Uh, you all done in here? I think everybody's about ready to leave."

Miaka turned around and nodded. "We'll be out in a minute." Ryuen, with a relieved smile, vanished into the hall.

Miaka looked up at Keiji, and he held his arms out with an apologetic look. Her surprise turned into a smile, and she hugged him tightly. "Don't worry," she said. "I just have a feeling it'll be all right." She stepped back and headed out into the living room.

"I hope you're right," he said.

---

Goddamn you, Chichiri!

Whatever the hell you did to me, it's drivin' me crazy. It's like she's here in the room sometimes. I can hear her, see her. Sometimes I can almost touch her.

It's not as bad now, out drivin' around the neighborhood, but it'll probably be waitin' for me when I get back. I don't think I can rest in that room anymore. I don't think I can find any rest anywhere now; not with her followin' me.

But I'll play the hand you dealt me. I'll just keep going on here, doing the shit I have to do to keep this gang together, 'cause it's all I've got left. 'Til I really can't stand it anymore. I'll worry about that when it happens.

You'd just better not come back. I really will kill ya next time.

---

End Chapter 6

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A/N: Fina-freakin'-ly! A thousand apologies for the ridiculously long hiatus, folks. Here it is, and I hope it's worth the wait. Two more chapters to go, and I'm not planning on taking over four months to write those. Many thanks to KL, who beta'ed this for me. :)