Author Fangirling: During my 6-month writing break, I read "Water Margin" (one of the Chinese classics) in its entirety, and towards the end-when the 100+ heroes possessed with super-human and plot-device-filling abilities were dropping like flies, and things like ghosts coming back to aid their friends was treated as a perfectly normal thing-I started really wanting to work with Fushigi Yuugi again. It didn't included anything like priestesses, but it did make it much easier to come back and write a war.

As a matter of practice and formality, Boushin sat at his throne for all of the official reports from the front lines. The Konan armies had originally met success in their high spirits, covering vast stretches of initial ground and intimidating the border soldiers, resulting in efficiently won battles. Soldiers through the capital had been on high alert for Kutou spies, but activity had been low.

These small victories, however, soon gave way to frustrations as Kutou's specially organized forces arrived to give combat. They became painfully aware that even though the Suzaku warriors were in their best shape, the rest of Konan's forces had been out of proper practice and could not afford strong weaponry and armor. As a result, they were already being pushed back into their own territory, neutralizing their previous victories. Boushin could only anxiously listen as reports were read aloud.

On the other end, Chiriko was often the one busy writing the reports. Since Suzaku had been summoned his character had remained constant, but no amount of study he had done on war strategy could make up for the staggering weaknesses in the army. "Should I use one of them?" Miaka asked, sharing his frown as he struggled with how to word the next report. She had been fighting at the front lines in every battle, and as if protected by Suzaku inside of her, she and her horse had not so much as been scratched.

Her warrior shook his head. "We've only just begun—and we're not in such dire straights yet."

"That's right," Chichiri added with a smile. "At least we know where we're weak—all we need to do is think about how to fix it, you know?"

"There's the old Chichiri optimism."

"I was an optimist before?"

"That smile would make anyone think so."

"Ah, old times, huh?" Tasuki wore an expression that either made him look very nostalgic, or very tired. "My guys are out there havin' fun relivin' their youths, but they're really better at ransacking than at all this defense."

"That would be great, if only we could have them steal a few units' worth of better supplies," Chiriko half-chuckled, half-grumbled under his breath.

"That's a great idea," Nuriko spoke up next to him. "That's our Chiriko!"

"…Idea?"

"Leave it to me," he flashed a sassy grin. "And to Tasuki and the brutes, anyway."

Nuriko's idea was to take advantage of his lack of a physical body by surveying the Kutou troops on standby, seeing which ones were lax and open to robbery. Floating over one camp of stern looking men, he overheard their conversation around their dinner cooking. "The general's never coming back, is he?"

"Of course not. Not if he had a falling out with the emperor."

"Good riddance!"

"Don't speak that way of your officers, fool!"

"He's not an officer anymore," another grinned sinisterly, "especially not if he's planning to assassinate the emperor."

"Assassinate the emperor!?"

"Quiet down, what if someone overhears and misunderstands? It's just a rumor anyway—I heard he was spotted with the Priestess of Seiryuu, gathering information on the emperor's whereabouts. His Highness is leading on the battlefields, after all."

"The Priestess of Seiryuu? Oh, she did come back recently just to disappear again, right?"

"That rumors' gotta be false. Why would the Priestess of Seiryuu try to assassinate the emperor? And wasn't he…?"

"Yes, he still is a Seiryuu warrior. Ah, but for that matter, so was our general!"

"Once you're at war, it's hard to make sense of anything anymore."

Nuriko listened to the entire conversation with great interest. Nevertheless, this group was too disciplined, so he moved on. A group at a not terribly key location was much rowdier in their dinner table conversation, consumed in talk having nothing to do with anything more than alcohol and women. Mostly foot soldiers, they didn't seem any more refined than bandits—and after Nuriko reported their location to Tasuki, they were easily victimized.

They were able to successfully target and pillage two more lesser units before the Kutou armies caught on and guarded themselves against more thefts of the same nature, but by then the Reikaku bandits had already won enough supplies to strengthen a number of the Konan forces for their upcoming battles.

When Miaka heard about the rumors circulating, she was both pleased to hear of any sighting of Yui alive and well, and overcome with worry about her being so close to the battle. Miaka had grown accustomed to the ways of warfare, but Yui was only accustomed to the perceived battles of exams and homework. On that account she would always be greater than Miaka, but on this side of the book's covers it meant little.

Perhaps, she thought, she should give her more credit. After all, Yui had also had a little time to mature, and was a different priestess now than she was before. In the note she left, all she wrote was:

I'm with my warriors now, but that's where I'm safest—and you're safest with yours. Go fight your fight, but leave Nakago to me. When we're finished, we'll go home and leave this all behind us. This isn't goodbye, so don't treat it like one. I'll come and find you once my work is done.

I love you, Miaka. Until then, take care of yourself. You'll need to once you start using your wishes, but you'll be fine—be the girl I always knew you were.

Not that Yui completely believed everything she wrote. Suboshi had proved he was not a safe person to be around, but like a dog that had been scolded, he kept his glance downcast and avoided speaking directly to her. The only reason he was even by Yui's side again was because Kaika had tracked him down and practically dragged him back so the two of them could protect Yui and fight Nakago together.

Kaika still had no memories in his mind, but once he became aware of his former powers, using them came quite naturally—his hands and his breath had not forgotten how to use his songs to fight. None the less, being so easily recognizable, the group had trouble moving around the Kutou borders and soldiers, lest someone track their activity and warn Nakago, who they could only hope was too busy with the war at hand to be terribly aware of them himself.

Mayo, however, had no such trouble. No one in Kutou had the slightest idea who she was, and even Nakago only had a vague notion that someone who claimed to be a new Priestess of Suzaku had come. With Suzaku no longer reliant on her, she returned to being a completely normal, unnoticeable young girl, who could slip all the way to the Kutou capital by way of asking questions and hitchhiking.

She reached the palace there and inquired about work, and was shown in as a maid rather easily. Once inside, she was dismayed to learn that Nakago had left to lead his troops at the front lines, and remaining there would be a waste of her time. Even though it took more than a little enthusiasm to do the most vile of hygienic maintenance for the Kutou troops, she found herself hitching a spot in a soldier caravan to the front lines.

Initially she liked the attention she received from the troops, but it became irksome how they treated her with such little respect and expected favors out of her simply because she was female. As if she had no manner, however, she quickly turned them all off with her sharp tongue and disgusted attitude. At the worst, it earned her a hard slap from a disgruntled pursuer, but better that than being forced to do other services for them. Thereafter, it was discouraging to be treated with open disdain for being so unladylike, but at a different level, it was refreshing.

To be treated with honesty instead of hollowness was something she had always craved. If her parents had only gotten mad at her directly instead of at each other, she could have been in control of her surroundings—at least if she were made to suffer directly, she could take pride in rising above it, and for that reason, the harsh treatment bolstered her confidence.

She pondered the contrary very briefly—how much weaker would it make her feel if someone loved her openly, honestly, and directly? When she had first discovered the book she hoped that she too would win the love and affection of the Suzaku warriors, but perhaps that love was what made Miaka lose her nerve in the first place.