Boushin and his party had an early start the next morning, all feeling refreshed. Today they would reach Tamahome's village—and the grave, for that matter—and Boushin would finally hear more.

"Does Chichiri live in Tamahome's village?"

"Yes," answered Chiriko.

"What does he do?"

"He farms."

"What was his power?"

Chiriko and Tasuki looked to each other. "I don't know. How would you answer that?"

"Beats me. Maybe he could do anything."

"He must have been strong, then!"

"Most of them were," he smiled, amused at his enthusiasm.

"I wonder what he'd think of Nuriko." The two warriors exchanged knowing grins.

"Yes, what was Nuriko like?"

"Strong. Strongest person I ever met. He could snap ya in two usin' only two fingers."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Ya just didn't wanna make him mad," Tasuki shuttered, remembering how it stung to be thrown half-way through a wall. Boushin was gaining a picture in his mind until Tasuki threw a block into his thoughts: "And his hobby was cross-dressing."

"…Cross-dressing?"

"He was good at it, too," nodded Chiriko. "And he even was… no, nevermind."

"Yeah, it's a little much for 'im at this age."

"What?" Boushin asked, though he knew getting an answer wasn't likely.

A few hours into the trip, they took a break to get off their horses and walk around. There were still many trees there, though the hills were gentler compared to the mountain passes. Boushin liked it—there were not many trees or hills in the capital, nor much grass to stretch out in. He walked a few paces away from Tasuki and Chiriko and stretched out in the shade. The dirt smelled comforting, and the area provided solitude than he could usually experience in the bustling palace. He knew the others weren't far off, but he felt like was finally by himself.

By himself, that was, except for a face—if that was what he could call it—appearing directly over his head.

Chiriko and Tasuki, tending to the horses, were alerted to his screams. With great celerity they ran to where he was, and saw him backed against a tree trying to get away from the figure squatting in front of him.

"Didn't mean to scare you, you know. I just thought you looked familiar."

"Chiriko! Tasuki!" he called over to them, wondering how they could just be standing there when he was being threatened.

"Hmm," the person(?) leaned closer, holding the chin of his rubbery complexion. "I've got it! You're Boushin, aren't you?"

"You know me?" he looked back to the man in front of him, then back to his traveling companions. They smiled and nodded, and Chiriko stepped forward with a hand motioning towards the man.

"This is Chichiri, one of the Suzaku warriors."

Chichiri took a step backwards, and bowed down on one knee. His shaggy hair fell around his face as removed his mask, which caused Boushin to scream again and bury his nails in the bark and futilely back up further into the tree.

"Geez," he turned back to his fellow warriors while pointing at his real face. "You didn't even warn him about this? I would have kept my mask on had I have known, you know!"

"They don't tell me much of anything," Boushin peeled himself away from the tree and tried to get a good look at his true face, now that he had realized the previous one was a mask. Chichiri turned back to look at him, so the boy now how a full view of the scar across his eye and cheek. He was now the one staring intently at Chichiri, who merely continued squatting and let him observe. The situation seemed to invite Boushin to reach out and touch, and, hesitating slightly, he did so. At last, he spoke, "Wow."

"I don't think it was the scar that scared him," Tasuki rolled his eyes.

"I'm fairly certain it was the ripping-off-your-face thing," added Chiriko.

Chichiri couldn't help but smile and look at the boy's hand with his functional eye. "Do you like it?"

"I've never seen a scar like this before."

"Most people hope not to, you know."

"Did you get this while fighting the Seiryuu warriors?"

"What? Oh no, this scar is even older than that."

"Yeah," Tasuki added. "We all got used to the mask a long time ago."

Boushin's fascination sank away completely. "Oh."

Chichiri turned back to the others. "Is it just me, or is he disappointed?"

"Chichiri," said Chiriko, "Boushin would like to know what happened ten years ago. We were just on our way to take him to see you."

"I see," nodded Chichiri. "I'll go on ahead, then."

"Please do."

"He's leaving? But we just met!" protested Boushin.

"We met eight years ago. You just don't remember, you know?"

"But—I haven't even apologized for screaming at you…"

"I'll accept that as an apology. And it's alright," he said as he put the mask back in place and stood up. "I'm going to prepare for you to come over. Just a little housekeeping, you know."

"Well," he frowned, "Alright…"

Boushin and the others took their time reaching the village within another hour or so. The area was arid, but the houses were well-kept, and there were small children running around between them. Tasuki and Chiriko lead him through them until they came to a house Chichiri was squatting in front of. "We meet again, Boushin."

"Chichiri!"

The warrior called over his shoulder, "Miaka, they're here!"

The sound of crashing pans came from within the house, and then from around the side of the house came hurried footsteps. Then there was a young woman—petite, long dark hair half in tufts, and bright eyes. At first she looked hurried and anxious, but locking eyes with Boushin, she brimmed up into a wide smile and put her hands to her face. "You're Hotohori's son?" she said, and then started sprinting towards him with her arms outstretched. "I've wanted so much to see you! I—"

"You're alive?!"

She stopped her tracks, hands still outstretched, and then slowly shrunk back away. "Uh… yes. Yes, I'm alive."

"Then—"

"Let's go inside, Boushin," Chichiri put a hand on his shoulder.

No wonder everyone had been so secretive about how the priestess died—there wasn't anything to say. Boushin buried his eyes in one hand as he rested his elbow on the table, and Chichiri served a cup of tea in front of him. He had thought there was reason to wait for a priestess or something, it turned out she had been there his entire life. But what had she been doing, except for nothing?

"Miaka and I have been living here for the past several years," Chichiri explained. "It's easiest just to say that we're married, you know?"

"That's right," she added. "We live a simple life like everyone else here—I get to do the whole making cookies for orphans thing—except they don't eat my cookies, but besides that, it's nice to live like normal people in Konan do."

Boushin looked around the humble home. With a broad bed next to them, they all barely fit at the table together without their elbows hitting each other or the walls, and there was a bunk bed set up in the next room—if he could call it that. He had never been inside such a small building. "Are you husband and wife, then?"

"Well," they looked to each other. "In some ways, I guess you could say so. We take care of each other and have spent most of our time together over the years."

"We've spent enough time together that we bicker like an old married couple sometimes too, you know?"

"You could say they're more like widows consoling each other," murmured Tasuki from behind his teacup.

"We made a decision together that Chichiri would be Miaka's caretaker."

"But why not stay at the palace? Even my mother thinks you've died."

"We needed to lay lower than that."

"I know," he smiled, "to wait for the right time to summon Suzaku, right? That must be it! Otherwise—"

"No!" Miaka slammed her hands the table. "I will not be summoning Suzaku."

"But…" he stared back at her, bewildered, then angry. "Why not? That was your purpose for coming here all along, wasn't it?"

"It's impossible now."

"You're alive! It can't be impossible!"

"It's impossible!"

"Why? Why is it impossible?" he raised his voice.

"Because I'm Tamahome's wife!"

And with that, she backed down and looked away with a pursed expression. She was a beautiful woman with soft features, Boushin could admit, but he had never met a woman with such a temperament. He looked to the other warriors for some explanation of what she meant—seeing as Tamahome was dead—and found them all looking to the floor with vacant faces, as if the information was nothing new but still as meaningful. Though he didn't think he did anything wrong, he apologized.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "It's because I failed that you had to come all the way out here to find me, and that you don't have your father around."

"No, no, that's not your fault," he said, though for all he knew, she could have been right. "The fact is I did want to meet you all, though… even though I didn't expect you to be here. I'll be happy if I could hear more about the legend of Suzaku and the adventures you had." After all, I can bombard Chiriko with a lot more questions later now that he's shown me this.

"That's right, let's enjoy each other's company," Chichiri added.

"Hey, that's right! There's more company t' introduce ya to!" Tasuki jumped in. "It's Mitsukake, he's been reincarnated! I just plain stumbled on the kid in a village near my hide out."

"What? He has?"

"It's true," beamed Chiriko. "He showed me on the way there. He was there with Shouka, probably the baby he healed back then."

"That's wonderful," Miaka's face was flushed, and she wiped away a happy tear. "I'm so glad he didn't wait up for me. Can I see him? Do you think he'll remember me?"

"Naw, he's just a normal kid."

"That's so wonderful," she repeated. "Mitsukake deserved that."

"Once he found Shouka and felt assured you were taken care of, he probably didn't waste any time in joining her."

"Yes, there was no sense in waiting around."

"Then what about the others?" Boushin interjected. "Would my father and the others have found new lives by now?"

The others fell quiet, consumed in thought. At last Miaka broke the silence, with her gaze fixed towards the window. "Not Tamahome."

The others nodded slightly. "And for that matter, probably not Hotohori and Nuriko either."

In the silence, Miaka started to tear up again. "Oh no, look at me," she rushed to wipe one away when it hit her cheek, and then turned with a smile to Boushin. "I'm really so happy to see you! I had Chichiri go check on everyone in the palace while we were traveling and hiding out for a couple years, and he said you were adorable—and that you looked just like Hotohori! And that you had the teddy bear I gave him, too! Then when Chiriko would come to visit, he would tell me about you, too."

Boushin was surprised to hear about his childhood toy. Furthermore, he had never noticed Chiriko's absenses, and he shot him a surprised look. The counselor sipped his tea and said, "I didn't get lost those times."

"Because I met you half-way," Chichiri replied.

"You probably heard that this is Tamahome's house," she smiled and looked up the ceiling. "There are some sad memories here, but it's mostly filled with good ones. Why don't you come with me? I'm sure Tamahome would like to see you, too."

She took him around to the back of the house, where there were six mounds. "This is Tamahome's family," she pointed. "That's his father, that's Yuiren, that's Shunkei, that's Gyokuran, that's Chuuei, and this one is Tamahome," she sat down on the dirt in front of it and gazed fondly. "I wanted to make sure he was buried here with them. I think he's glad we finally decided to stay here. It must make it easier for him to find me."

As she gazed, she felt as if she could barely see his figure from the chest down, sitting on top of the grave. She imagined he'd be smiling.

"Tamahome," she addressed it, "This is Boushin. He's Hotohori's son. He looks a lot like him, don't you think?"

"Um, hello," the young emperor said.

"Do you run into Hotohori anywhere? Tell him he should be proud of his son. And tell him I'd visit him and Nuriko too, if I could."

Boushin wasn't sure if he felt comfortable being there, imposing on a bereaved woman's chat with her love. Maybe she had died a bit on the inside with him.

"Mi…Miaka?"

"Yes, Boushin?" she gave him a bright look.

"Why does everyone say that you died?"

She was downcast as she answered. "I wanted everything to stop—especially after Tamahome died. I was there when Nakago killed him," she said, and her arms moved as if she was cradling something. "He told me that he wanted to be with me forever. I wanted to be with him forever too. I thought it would be fine I joined him right away, and I was reckless and angry—but I carried this hope that I would be going to his side soon, and we'd never be separated again. I had hope that if I just wasn't here anymore that bad things would stop happening to everyone I loved. Even telling them it was impossible to summon Suzaku wasn't enough. They kept fighting! But I know now it wasn't all for my sake," she shook her head. "It really was for Konan. That's why I'm still alive, taking care of Konan in my own little ways."

"But if people knew you were alive, they could have at least kept some hope."

"No," she sounded firm, "There is no need for anyone to be so reckless ever again. Suzaku is sealed, and we are healing this country without him!"