DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine. If it were, I wouldn't be wasting my time here, now would I?? ^_^.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a story in progress. I'll be going back and revising this edition of it, plus adding more...but for now, t'will stand as it is. *firm nod*
----

"And Then It Changes"
by Ryuen


It was late. He knew it even before he opened his eyes, could hear the heavy silence blanketing the palace, could feel the very stillness in the air. It was late...and, yet again, he was awake.

Sighing, Nuriko dragged himself into a sitting position on the bed, letting the silken bed cloths clump at his waist, wrap themselves around his legs. He drew in a long, deep breath. A cool, calm breath of night air washed in from the nearby window, sweeping the sweat-soaked hair back from his eyes. He breathed it in greedily, growing more awake and aware with each new inhalation, coming more out of the dream with each new, long breath.

He closed his eyes, drew his knees to his chest. Every time...it was the same. Same images, same conclusion, same fear. It was always a blur afterwards, but he was sure that while he was in it...while he was in it, it was clear, perfect, obvious. He KNEW when he was in the dream...

//Knew what??\\ he demanded silently. //How can you know you know something without knowing what that something is?? Baka. Stop being stupid and go back to sleep.\\

Nodding briefly to himself, Nuriko lay back and drew the covers to his chin, let his eyes fall gently closed...and, then the images flashed before his eyes again, so clear but so painfully blurry...so close...but so distant...

First, there was white. Smooth, sparkling white...angel white. Clouds...a splash of ivory on a palette of soft sapphire blue... But then, always, inevitably, the white faded, dropped back, and there was a flash...a flash of brown, then a scream...a scream...no, a howl--gods, it was a howl like none he'd ever heard, filled with anguish and anger and pain, erupting with hatred...and, then...then there were a flash of crimson, of pain, an explosion of color and sound...and then darkness.

Darkness...and warmth.

And, then he awoke. It was the same, every time...and it had been haunting him for WEEKS.

"Naaaa, how boring," he said aloud, turning onto his side in the bed, tugging the soft covers more snugly to his chin. "Same dream, every night..."

His voice echoed dully back at him in the near-silent room, and he winced. //I sound scared...\\

And then, suddenly, something exploded within him. Pain...pain! He leapt from the bed as if he'd been stung, stumbled to the floor and onto his knees on the ground. Wincing, he clutched at his chest, bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle a cry of pain...what was going on? It hurt... Tears sprang to his eyes, and he tried to move towards the door, to get out into the night air, to find somewhere where he could breathe again...he couldn't breathe...it was so hard...like his lungs weren't working right...like something was squeezing them, killing him, breaking off his air...and, the pain...the pain! Nuriko grunted, stumbling the rest of the way to the door, but the grunt came out as a choked sob--the pain intensified as he moved, streaked through him...his vision was getting blurry, bathing the room in a surreal, dreamlike mist...was he...was he...dying??

Face contorting in pain, Nuriko stretched out an arm, grabbed at the door, and, agonizingly, tugged it open...it was so hard...the door wasn't heavy...he was strong...he was so strong! Why wouldn't it open?? And, the pain...it was getting worse...the agony pinched at his ribs, scratched at his heart, tore at his lungs...it was a hot, ripping agony, pouring through his veins like molten lava, creeping over his skin like fire... The tears ran in streams down his cheeks now, salty and moist on his lips, stinging in his eyes...he had to...get outside...somehow...everything would be better if he could JUST GET OUTSIDE! Finally, FINALLY, he drew in as deep a breath as his suddenly-straining lungs would allow him, tugged the door hard towards him...and, by gods...by gods, it opened.

Still clutching at his chest, half-bent with pain and concentration and weariness, Nuriko grabbed onto the edge of the door with his free hand, pulled himself towards it, and dragged himself out into the doorway...he dropped to his knees, began to crawl...things were starting to lose focus...a dark, thick curtain of black velvet was beginning to slip over the corners of his vision...and, the warmth...no. No. No, it wasn't warmth...it was numbness. Everything was going numb.

//Is this...is this what death is?\\

The violet-haired seishi let out a strangled cry of pain, collapsed onto the floor with a thud...what was happening?? But, no...it didn't matter anymore...it didn't matter at all, because...because the heat flaring over his skin was fading as each limb sank into that warm numbness...and the darkness was sliding over him, drawing him deeper into this well of non-feeling velvet, this black sepulchre of nothingness...it must be death, he found himself thinking with a bit of a nervous rush.

It must be.

As the world faded around him, he thought he heard something...footsteps, perhaps...a name...his... But, the last image in his mind, the last thing burning in his vision as he slipped out of consciousness...was the symbol of the willow, just visible through the thin fabric of his night shirt, burning a thick, fiery red.

And then, there was nothing.

~ ~ ~

Something woke him...he didn't know what. Hotohori sat up in his bed with a gasp...no...no. Something was wrong...something was wrong with someone...

"Miaka?" he whispered.

Trembling, the young emperor slid from the heavy warmth of the bed, let his bare feet slap against the cool tile of the floor. He drew a long, flowing robe around his thick body, spent a brief moment tying the sash, then strode to the door and slipped out. He would check on her...that was all. He wasn't being obsessive, he wasn't being overprotective...he was a seishi, she was his Miko, and it was his duty to protect her, right? Right.

Even if she did love Tamahome.

The words sprang from the darkened corners of his mind, stung him anew even as he moved swiftly through corridors, sweeping silently through the palace towards Miaka's room...

//No. I do love her...but she loves Tamahome, and that's all right. I'm going to her now as her seishi, not as her lover. It's my duty to make sure she's all right..my duty. My right. So, I'll go.\\ His expression soured. //Besides...if Tamahome loves her as much as he seems to, then he should surely be able to sense that something's wrong with her, as well.\\

The feeling of urgency intensified within him, and he let out a soft gasp--gods, what if something was REALLY wrong? What if Miaka was dying? What if a Kutou agent had somehow broken into the palace and was strangling her...stabbing her...hurting her...killing her... Something small and painful began in the pit of his stomach...what if she was already dead? What if Miaka was dead??

The mere thought of it made him ill. He began to run, the soft, cottony robes flaring dramatically out behind him, long, thick waves of hair dancing wildly about his shoulders in a wash of chestnut silk...he had to get to Miaka...he had to get to her now! It was dark...he was running...but it was all right--he recognized the area, knew he was nearly to Miaka's room, that soon he would be there with her, holding her in his arms, KNOWING she was safe and nothing was wrong because it was silly but...but...oh, gods, she just HAD to be all right...!

And, then...his foot thudded into something solid, and he tripped. Gasping in surprise as well as irritation, Hotohori grabbed onto a nearby pole, steadied himself, and turned back, briefly, to see what had tripped him. In truth, he didn't much care--he was in a hurry, needed to find Miaka, HAD to find Miaka!...but, something deep within himself told him to look, to notice...and, so...he did.

The blood drained from his face. "Great Suzaku," he whispered. "N...Nuriko..."

He dropped to his knees, hesitantly moved towards the lifeless seishi, reached out a trembling hand. His fingers brushed against silk, pressed into the skin of the younger man's shoulder...warmth. Breath. Life. He sighed in relief. Nuriko was alive...he was breathing, his heart was beating, he was...alive.

Hotohori glanced up from the unconscious seishi, a panicked expression on his face...gods, in just these few moments, he'd forgotten all about Miaka... He began to rise to his feet, to move onward towards the young Miko's room--he would return to see what had happened to Nuriko, of course, but Miaka...Miaka had to take precendence...after all...the girl might be dying! Or...or dead!

Just as he turned to leave, however, a low moan from the young man at his feet stopped him dead in his tracks, sent him turning again, frowning, staring. The violet-haired seishi lay facedown on the hard, thick wooden floor, half in and half out of the doorway to his room. What could be seen of his face was scrunched and contorted in pain...he was shaking, but didn't seem to be in any real danger of slipping into a more serious condition...and, after all, Miaka...

He froze, midthought, as a flash of red caught his eye.

Hotohori caught his breath, dropped again to his knees, and gently turned the other man over onto his back. Carefully, he adjusted his grip on the young seishi, let Nuriko's head rest on his lap...and, reached a gentle hand to the edge of his nghtshirt. Drawing in a soft breath of the cool, cleansing night air, Hotohori lifted the silken fabric away from Nuriko's chest...and stared, startled and awed.

The willow burned a fiery crimson.

~ ~ ~

Reluctantly, Hotohori opted to at least get Nuriko back into his bed before he continued onward to Miaka's room--after all, he couldn't just leave him out here on the floor, where someone else could trip over him... No. He could never do that to anyone, especially not a friend--yes. He was bound to do at least this much...even if doing so might put Miaka in more danger than she might already be in.

It wasn't difficult to gather Nuriko into his arms and carry him back into his room--despite his strength, the seishi was deceptively light, with a slim, feminine figure and thin, weak-looking arms and legs. It was strange, to see Nuriko like this...in fact, now that he thought on it, this was the first time he'd ever seen the violet-haired seishi in such a state of disrepair and weakness. Always, Nuriko was strong, collected, and almost unendurably lively...but now...now...

An unspeakable sense of sorrow invaded his heart, made him frown. Something about that thought... Hotohori shook his head, stepped back into Nuriko's room and began to move towards the bed.

As he reached it, however, and slid forward to lower Nuriko gently into it so he could continue on his mission...he felt something change. The sense of urgency which had been driving him on, so clear and so painfully bright in his eyes and heart just a moment ago...suddenly, inexplicably, winked out. Hotohori's dark eyebrows came together in confusion, his lips twisted downwards.

Was Miaka all right, then? Had Tamahome saved her? Had she ever really been in trouble in the first place...or did this just mean that now she was dead??

Nuriko stirred...and Hotohori suddenly remembered that he hadn't quite gotten around to putting the seishi DOWN yet...and, he couldn't just DROP him... Already regretting the decision, Hotohori stayed where he was, motionless, and stared down into the younger man's face as he slowly rose into wakefulness.

~ ~ ~

Darkness. Nothingness.

Crimson...a flash of brown...fur...fangs...pain...crimson...no. Blood. Blood on the snow. Blood on his hands...blood...

//Miaka...Miaka? Where...where are you...?\\

It faded. White...grey...black. Black...

Black.

~ ~ ~

Slowly, carefully, Nuriko returned to consciousness.

He grimaced, letting out a soft groan of pain, and tried to remember where he was...oh, yes...the doorway...he'd been trying to get out, but he'd...he'd collapsed...good gods, that meant he was ALIVE! Relief washed over him...then irritation. What had that been about?? The pain had fled, it seemed, but the phantom of it still swirled in his veins, brushed over his skin...he'd have to find Mitsukake in the morning, ask him about it...but, until then, he neeeded to get back in bed, get some sleep, get the hell away from this crazy waking dream... Wincing, Nuriko let his eyes slide slowly open, expecting to find himself staring down at the dusty floor of the palace hallway...instead...

Nuriko frowned, wondering briefly if he was still dreaming...

"Hoto...Hotohori??" he demanded quietly. He glanced around himself, realized that, not only was Hotohori bending over him, but the young emperor was...was... His heart skipped a beat.

...HOLDING him.

Hotohori looked startled for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. Gently, the emperor leaned forward, let Nuriko drop down onto the bed. Then, smoothing the wrinkled fabric of his robes and taking a brief moment to brush the hair from his face, Hotohori sat down beside him on the bed. His weight shifted the mattress, sent tremors through the soft fabric of the sheets.

Suddenly remembering the excruciating pain he'd been in such a short time ago, Nuriko lay weakly back in the bed, brought a slim-fingered hand to his forehead, and closed his eyes.

"Nuriko...are you all right? What happened?"

Nuriko shook his head, frowning. "I...I don't know. I remember..." His forehead creased. "I remember..."

"What?"

Nuriko shook his head. "I...I don't know. It's...it's blurry. I remember being...being in pain...and I remember crawling to the door and passing out. And, I remember..." Eyes flashing open, Nuriko rose so he was half sitting in the bed, reached an unsteady hand to the silken fabric of his nightshirt...

"The willow," Hotohori murmured. "Yes. I...I saw it."

Nuriko peered into his shirt, frowned at the smooth, unmarred skin. "Gone," he mused. "Huh."

Wearily, the other man nodded. "Strange."

Nuriko frowned, shifting positions on the bed so he sat propped against the pillows, still leaning a bit weakly backwards but feeling, for the most part, a great deal healthier...the pain was gone, at least... "Ne, Hotohori-sama...are you...are you feeling all right?"

Hotohori glanced up almost guiltily, offered a slight smile. "I'm fine," he said. His voice was deep and even...but his eyes glittered with some unknown emotion, his lips pressed together tightly into a thin line. Suddenly looking very tired, Hotohori rose from the bed, crossed his arms lightly over his chest, and gazed down at the violet-haired seishi with a gentle look of concern. "What about you, Nuriko? Are you feeling any better?"

 

~ ~ ~

 

Nuriko shrugged, flushing slightly at the thought of Hotohori catching him in such a state... "I'm...I'm fine."

"Good."

The violet-haired seishi frowned...why did Hotohori look so...so...disappointed? So weary? And, what had he been doing roaming the palace at this time of night, anyway, so far away from his own chambers?? Before he could open his mouth to find some way to vocalize his questions, however, Hotohori had risen to his feet, taken a short step back from the bed.

"Perhaps you can ask Mitsukake about it in the morning," he offered, voice soft and low, thick with weariness and...and something else... "For now, though, if you're feeling better...I'll retire to my chambers."

Nuriko nodded numbly.

The young emperor returned the nod, turned, and walked to the door. He paused briefly in the doorway, back facing the bed, and glanced back at the young seishi. "Goodnight, Nuriko."

And, then he was gone.

Nuriko watched him go, a deep frown etching thick lines in the soft skin of his forehead, and let a long, soft hiss of air pass between his lips. "Goodnight...Hotohori-sama."

~ ~ ~

He barely slept. Every now and then, he would feel himself slipping into the thicker, blacker darkness of sleep, would drift off for a few minutes...and, then, would snap back into full wakefulness, shaking and gasping for breath, so near to the edge of the nightmare that he could practically smell the coppery scent of the blood...

Nuriko shuddered, sat up in the bed, drew his legs to his chest and hugged them. After a few moments of focusing on his breathing, struggling to work through the sudden flash of panic trembling through his limbs, the young seishi glanced out the nearby window, took note of the position of the moon in the sky... Only a few more hours...just a few more hours until dawn, daylight, freedom from this terrible waking nightmare of sleep and pain and death.

He sighed. But, what to do until then?

Wearily, Nuriko dragged himself from the bed, slapped his bare feet down onto the cool, hard wood of the floor, and stood. He found himself moving cautiously, waiting with a suspicious kind of foreboding for the inevitable relapse, the much-expected surge of pain and unconsciousness...but, even as he waited, even as he took another, cautious step towards the door, moved another inch away from the bed...still, nothing happened. He breathed normally, moved normally... The young seishi frowned, reaching out a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against the cool, smooth surface of the door.

He felt...he felt fine, now. Normal. Not a glimmer of pain, not a spark of discomfort...not even the fear, the panic...just...just...

Normal.
How strange.

He tugged on the knob, pulled the door towards him, and stepped out into the night. The air was soft and thick and warm, coated with the light fragrance of lilies and the heavier, saltier scent of the river. It washed over his skin like a cool balm, swept the sweat-sticky hair back from his face, ruffled the colorful silk of his nightclothes until he felt the wind on every inch of his body, cooling him, soothing him, drawing him from the nightmare and back into reality.

Nuriko drew in another long, calming breath, let it out slowly, and began to walk. Soon, he'd left the hardwood safety of the walkway and had moved onto softer ground. His feet padded lightly against the moist, soggy earth, and thin blades of grass tickled against his ankles, streaked cool lines over his skin.

An immense sense of peace stole over him, then, smoothed the lines of stress from his features, calmed his tensed muscles, drew the tension from his body until nothing but a cool, welcome numbness remained.

Relief. Release. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He walked without purpose or direction, moving wherever his feet took him, eyes half closed with the sweet solace of the night. Eventually, he stopped, glanced around himself as if suddenly realizing that he'd been walking...his eyes narrowed, peered through the soft silver of the moonlight, widened. He was...he was in the royal gardens. He'd been here before, of course...but never this late. Never in the dark. Never alone.

Never as a man.

Tugging the silken nightclothes more tightly around himself, Nuriko took a few tentative steps forward into the midst of the garden, lowered himself onto the familiar seat of a large stone bench, and glanced around. The garden looked...so different...at night. Shadows darkened the usual array of bright colors, added an odd kind of sorrow to the place, as if death itself were looming just above it, drawing out the beauty until nothing was left but empty, darkened shells. A soft, silvery wash of moonlight crept through the clouds, pushed back the darkness...but, the shadows still remained, lurking just out of reach, crawling along the edge of the forest like prowling predators... Involuntarily, he shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as if to draw the warmth back into his body.

And, then...he heard it.

It was soft and low, a deep tremor of emotion packed into the safety of a gentle melody...a low, mournful tune, clearly audible through the heavy stillness of the night, drifting to him through the trees like some sort of strange siren song. Entranced, Nuriko rose from the bench, padded quietly to the edge of the garden.

 

~ ~ ~

He moved silently to the edge of the trees, one hand moving almost automatically to the silken cloth just over his heart, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. It was dark...but the soft sheen of the moonlight slid into a slight clearing about twenty feet away, set a nearby pool of water sparkling, glittering...and, there, perched on a large stone just at the edge of the water...

The breath was suddenly caught in his lungs. A slim hand moved, almost of its own volition, to hover just over his lips. "Hotohori-sama," he whispered.

The young emperor sat silently on the edge of the rock, his long, slender legs crossed lightly at the knee, one hand resting gently on his thigh, the other behind him, propping him up. Streaming down his broad back in a wash of silk was his long chestnut hair, tinged bronze by the moonlight. That same moonlight cast a silver hue over his features, smoothed the lines of tension from his flesh, left him looking innocent and young and childlike...but beautiful. Amazingly, stunningly beautiful...Nuriko found himself having trouble breathing all of a sudden.

Struggling to force the startled breath back into his lungs, the seishi continued his silent inspection, finding himself clinging to the slim trunk of a nearby sapling as if the strength had suddenly seeped from his limbs. The emperor's face was slightly tilted towards the sky, the thick amber of his eyes hidden beneath soft, flickering lids. And, he was...he was...

He was singing.

It was a quiet, sorrowful melody, flavored with the heavy bass of the emperor's speaking voice, but lighter...gentler...thick with a well of emotion and passion and sorrow he'd never glimpsed in the other man before... Nuriko suddenly had the unquenchable urge to draw back, to return to his room, to ignore this beautiful man who sat singing to the night sky with such fervor and emotion...it seemed almost like a betrayal, like he was slipping into a great secret he should never have been allowed to see...

But...but, he couldn't move. He was...entranced. Spellbound. Trapped in the gentle wrappings of the emperor's song.

A million thoughts and sensations flitted through his mind, but one stuck out above the rest, floated to the top of his consciousness until he couldn't ignore it anymore. //How did I not know he sang? Shouldn't I have known? Shouldn't I have?\\

Years passed. Lifetimes. Eternities. And, still he stood...still he watched...still he drew in this gentle man's sorrowful melodies like some sweet, life-giving liquid...still he found himself unable and unwilling to move, even though every ounce of common sense within his body screamed for him to get away before his presence was discovered. But...but no. His feet were trapped in place, his arms loose and useless at his sides, the dark violet of his eyes locked on the other's slim, muscled form. So, he wouldn't move. He would stay here...stay here, even if it meant eventually being caught in this betrayal, this violation.

He would stay.

Suddenly, Hotohori froze. The soft melody hung unfinished in the air, dangling, drifting lifelessly in the sudden silence. Slowly, the older seishi's eyes drifted open, and, just as slowly, he turned, a strange, peaceful expression coasting over his smooth, handsome features. "Who is it?" he called quietly. There was a small pause, a slight, sharp intake of air. "M...Miaka?"

Nuriko sighed. //Of course. Miaka's who he wants to see...not me.\\ Regardless, he couldn't just say nothing...the emperor obviously knew he was here...

Drawing in a light, soft breath of the night air, Nuriko slid forward, moved to the edge of the clearing, and stepped out into a wash of silver moonlight. "No," he said quietly, for some reason loathe to disrupt the thick silence which had suddenly fallen over the thicket. "Just me, Hotohori-sama."

For an instant, a look of disappointment flickered across the emperor's slim features, then vanished beneath his usual, careful mask. "Oh," he said. Granting the violet-haired seishi one more brief, measuring glance, the young emperor turned back, stared up at the moon.

And, Nuriko was left standing alone on the edge of the clearing, nothing more than a minor annoyance...a brief irritation...something to be brushed away, pushed back...paid no mind. Steeling his emotions against the rejection he'd known was coming, Nuriko turned, began to slip back away into the safe shadows of the thicket of trees...

"Nuriko."

He paused, startled, and turned back, raised an eyebrow in the emperor's direction.

Hotohori was silent for a long moment, gazing thoughtfully up at the shining moon. At last, he let out a soft breath, hung his head, and stared down at the ground. "I thought Miaka was in trouble, earlier," he began slowly. His voice was soft, gentle, but solid with a tentative kind of certainty. Hotohori shook his head slightly, a thin smile coasting across his lips. "But...she was not." The smile dipped, drew a twinge of bitterness. "Only Tamahome feels it when she needs him. Not...not me."

For a long moment, Nuriko found himself again trapped in the bonds of inactivity. He was...he was being confided in...by Hotohori-sama...! At last, he managed to break free, took a few hesitant steps closer to the young emperor...and froze as the other man spoke again.

"But, I...I felt...something...back then."

Suddenly, a wave of memories washed over him...the strange pain in his chest, the odd dreams, collapsing in the middle of the palace walkway...suddenly finding Hotohori there, holding him... He'd wondered then, idly, what the young emperor had been doing there at that time of night, but he hadn't thought it too imperative a detail...after all, even emperors were occasionally struck by fits of insomnia, right? He'd thought it had just been coincidence...Hotohori, out for a late-night walk, had suddenly stumbled upon him, thought to carry him inside...

But...but...

Hotohori drew another soft breath of the fragrant air, let it out slowly through his nostrils. And, then, the moonlight glittering a faint gold in his hair, Hotohori turned, smiled slightly. His eyes were large and soft and golden. "It was you, wasn't it, Nuriko?"

 

~ ~ ~

Nuriko shook his head wordlessly, opened his mouth to respond...and winced as a sharp, familiar pain suddenly ripped through his body, sent him falling to the ground with a startled cry of pain. His knees thudded hard onto the moist ground, sent a shudder of impact rippling through his body, but he barely felt it, felt nothing but this tearing, excruciating pain... It came from his chest, from the lower left part of his chest...and, it felt...it felt...it felt as if something were stabbing through him, ripping through his flesh, tearing him apart from the inside out...it was....it was killing him...! His vision already beginning to waver, Nuriko managed to keep himself from collapsing totally by planting one hand firmly on the ground, holding himself up with it, even as the pain twisted and screamed within him. But, even that one strength, that one tenuous hold on life and consciousness...was fading.

"Nuriko!"

He couldn't even draw the breath to respond...it was...it was locked within him, trapped, gone...he gasped, wheezed, clutched at his chest, his throat, struggled to breathe, to live...gods, it was happening again...why was it happening again?? It...it hurt...so much...he just...he just wanted to die. To...to die. To end the pain. The pain...it would go away, if he died, wouldn't it? Yes...all...all gone. Like Kourin. Kourin was gone. She didn't hurt anymore...he could...he could be with her...be with Kourin.

The last shreds of his vision faded to black, and Nuriko felt himself falling towards the cool, moist ground, waited for the impact of his skull striking against the dirt, waited for the blessed darkness of oblivion to appear and drag him away, take away the pain, bring him to Kourin's side... It would be okay to die...because...because no one needed him...did they? Hotohori had Miaka...Miaka had Tamahome...Kourin was...was gone. The summoning ceremony had already failed, so they didn't need him as a seishi, either...no one needed him...so...so.

So, why not? Why not let it...let it all fade away... Yes. He would. He would let it go...let himself fade away...because he needed it. He needed to escape from this terrifying reality, to get away before he got so caught up in the affections of these people that it would hurt him when they left...like Kourin. Yes. He would die. He would...die. He stopped fighting, stopped caring, let the breath stay trapped in his lungs, let the darkness come...no. He welcomed it, urged it on, drew it close to himself like a cloak, until he felt himself fading...fading...

And then it changed.

There was a warmth around him, all of a sudden, a moisture on his cheeks...what? Was...was it raining? This time of year? No...couldn't be... The sudden wetness woke him, drew him up from the depths of death, and amazingly, he felt the breath flooding back into his lungs, the life seeping back into his body.

The pain began to recede then, too, to drop away, to seep from his limbs with a careful, wary slowness, and gradually, gradually...he felt himself returning. And, still, the moisture laid softly on his cheeks, and the heavenly, magical warmth surrounded him, enveloped him...soothed him. It reminded him, rather suddenly, of long ago, during the harsh winter months...it would get so cold in the house, and so he, Kourin, and Rouko would huddle together just in front of the flickering, dying embers of the fire, wrap Father's favorite blanket around themselves, tell stories by the fading light until they fell asleep there, warm and contented and happy.

That...that was how he felt now. Warm. Contented.

Happy.

He smiled, laughed lightly...very lightly. His voice sounded strange in his own ears...strained, harsh...like a dying man's voice.

//Is that what I am? A dying man?\\

He laughed again...softly. //No. Not me. Not me.\\

Slowly, Nuriko let his eyes slide open, drawing in deep, cleansing breaths of the cool night air, his lungs free and clear once more, the pain gone from his side. His vision wavered, cleared...and, he gasped.

Hotohori was there beside him, sitting on the ground, his fine sleeping robes soiled and muddied by the moist ground, his long, silken chestnut hair hanging in sweat-soaked ribbons about his face. The emperor's slender, muscled arms were wrapped around the younger seishi's body, supporting him--his head, Nuriko noticed, rested in the emperor's lap. And, he realized...the warmth...it was nothing less than the presence of the other man's arms around him, holding him tightly, pleading silently for him to remain...

And...the wetness...what he'd thought was rain... Startled, Nuriko brought a thin hand to his own face, touched lightly at the drops of moisture there, brought a finger to his lips. Salty. Tears...

Gods. Hotohori's tears.

//You...you cried for me?\\

Hotohori cleared his throat, brushed briefly at his eyes as if batting away the light sheen of moisture there. "Nuriko," he managed, a bit huskily. "Are you all right? You almost..." He trailed off, shook his head. "You weren't breathing."

Groaning slightly as the memory of the pain trickled into his consciousness, Nuriko shifted in the emperor's arms, drew in another long, deep breath, and let it out slowly through his nostrils. "Hai," he murmured. "Hai, I'm...I'm fine, now." He paused for a moment, debating...then drew another breath and stared up into the other man's large, worried amber eyes. "Arrigato...Hotohori-sama."

Hotohori merely shook his head. "I did nothing...I was helpless, as usual." Frowning slightly, the emperor shifted, adjusted his grip on the younger man's body. "I suppose...it WAS you I felt, Nuriko...it...it must've been...because..." He sighed, let his head drop, his eyes close. "I felt it again, just now. Just before you fell. But, I don't understand...why you and I would be connected like this."

Nuriko, still feeling weary, let himself rest in the emperor's embrace, knowing this would most likely be the last time he felt it...a sly thought crept into his mind...unless he "collapsed" again...he fought back the snicker. No...he could never. Grinning inwardly, Nuriko pushed the thought away, forced himself to focus on the moment at hand. "Well," he said softly, thoughtfully, "Tamahome knows when Miaka's in danger. It could just be a connection between seishi, miko, and other seishi."

Hotohori shook his head curtly--obviously a subject he'd thought on before. "Only Tamahome feels it when Miaka is in trouble, and that's because of the strength of their--" He froze, broke off, and suddenly looked very startled--his eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, the breath seemingly frozen in his lungs. "The strength of their...their..."

A tremor worked its way through Nuriko's body. "Their love?" he whispered.

Hotohori's eyes were wide and unfocused, his lips pressed together into a thin, tight line. He inclined his head a fraction of an inch, let his eyes drift closed. "Hai. Because...Tamahome and Miaka are meant to be together. The rule of the..." His eyes opened. "The rule of the sky."

~ ~ ~

Hotohori felt a slight chill work its way through his body. Was he...was he really sitting here on the ground, holding Nuriko in his arms, staring down at the young seishi with...with...

He shook his head, not allowing himself to finish the thought. Yes, he was feeling something, but...but, that was nothing more than relief that Nuriko was ALIVE, nothing more...after all, he'd nearly died! He hadn't been breathing... Looking back, the young emperor remembered the long moments of thick, suffocating terror, the fear that this was IT...that in just a few moments, this man, this seishi, this FRIEND would cease to exist...would...would die.

He remembered rushed, whispered words of prayer to Suzaku, remembered feeling the life draining from Nuriko's body...remembered...remembered...crying. The tears sprang to his eyes almost of their own volition...they'd seeped down his cheeks, clung to his lips as he pleaded in quiet whispers, finally trickled down his chin and dripped lightly onto Nuriko's cool, smooth cheek--like polished marble, he remembered thinking. Like one of the many statues littering the nearby gardens...such beauty...but...but it was a dying beauty, a cold, lifeless beauty...

He had to do something...he had to do something! He couldn't let it end this way...but...but, Mitsukake was too far away, everyone was too far away...damn it, why had this happened so far away from the palace?? If only they were closer, there would be time...time to find someone who could help, time to get Mitsukake...to get help...to save Nuriko...but...but, he had to do something. He couldn't let it end like this!

And so...so. He'd leaned down over the unconscious seishi and pressed his lips against Nuriko's, pushed air into the quieted lungs, clung tightly onto the violet-haired youth's shoulders, cried. It was all such a blur...but he remmebered crying...remembered praying and crying and pushing the air in, waiting for some change, some sign of life, for anything but this sudden lack of life, this strange stillness in what should be a living, breathing, laughing PERSON...and then...then...

Then it changed.

The warmth had returned to the already-pale boy's skin, those thick, dark eyelashes flickered...and, he'd felt such a...an overwhelming sense of relief that he'd felt the strength drain from his muscles, and it had been all he could do to just stay where he was, to keep Nuriko's thin, wakening body supported...

And, now. Now, he sat here, the trouble passed, still clinging tightly to the warm body in his arms, unable to break free of this strange, whispering emotion slipping through him...what...what was going on...

Nuriko's eyes were large, staring at him as if in utter and total disbelief...he'd never seen them this close before, but now that he looked at them, he noticed that they were a bright, glistening violet, tinged with flecks of silver from the waning moonlight. Hotohori sighed. The smooth curve of his cheek, the soft violet waves of his hair, even the slimness of his waist and limbs...he was beautiful...but...but, it was a very feminine beauty...that was it. His jaw clenched. That was it...that was what was tripping him up. Nuriko LOOKED very much like a woman...and so it was easy for him to forget that the young seishi was, indeed, a man and feel such things...but...but they weren't real.

No. Of course not. He was...he was the emperor, and this was...a MAN. A man.

He loved Miaka. Miaka.

He brought the young girl before his eyes as if to remind himself, saw her thick brown hair, her wide, innocent eyes, large with the childish kind of naivete he himself had been forced to put away many years ago, when the burden of running a country had suddenly fallen onto his shoulders...yes. Miaka. He loved Miaka...he'd ALWAYS loved Miaka. Suzaku no Miko. The one who would love him for himself...the one who would make the loneliness fade away...

The one he would make his empress.

"Anou...Hotohori-sama..."

Hotohori snapped back to the present as the other seishi's voice echoed in his ears...agh, he'd forgotten... Gently, careful not to jar Nuriko too much, he lowered the other's body to the moist ground, slid his arms out from beneath him...and sat back on his heels. His robes were muddy...he would have to change... Again, he forced himself to focus on the present. Nuriko was staring at him, a slight frown creasing the younger man's brow, his eyes dark and shadowed in the fading light...

Hotohori lowered his eyes, spent a long moment doing his best to compose himself. When at last he'd managed to regain his usual tight reign on his emotions, the younger emperor rose to his feet, dragging with him a mass of heavy, soaked robes.

Nuriko caught a glimpse of the darkened, once-pristine cloths and winced. "Hotohori-sama, your robes..." he murmured.

The young emperor gazed down at the other, startled. //You nearly died...and you're concerned that my robes are dirty?\\ "It's all right," he said aloud. Clearing his throat lightly and moving forward, Hotohori offered a hand, waited as Nuriko grasped onto it, and tugged the younger seishi to his feet...and stopped. A warm, slim hand in his own...the moonlight...dark, glittering violet eyes...what...what was going on?

His own words echoed in his ears, painfully loud in the sudden stillness. //The rule of the sky...\\

 

~ ~ ~

Nuriko lowered his eyes, not quite ready to draw his hand from the warming protection of the emperor's fingers, but beginning to feel slightly uneasy with the length of the touch. "I should...get back to my room," he said quietly, fixing his gaze on a thick patch of grass a few feet away. "Arrigato...for..." He trailed off, eyes widening, and suddenly brought a hand to his lips. A slight frown creased his brow.

Hotohori immediately drew his hand away and took a small step back, distancing himself from the violet-haired seishi even as he absently smoothed the twisted fabrics of his sleeping robes. Caught in the midst of the action, however, the young emperor flushed slightly, let out a soft breath in a sigh. "Nuriko," he began slowly. "If...something should happen to you...again..." The man drew another breath, struggled for the correct words. "That is...I would...well, I think that..."

Nuriko frowned. "Hotohori-sama?"

At last, the emperor closed his eyes and sighed. "You should not spend the night alone," he concluded quickly. "That is, you need to have someone close by who can watch over you, in case...in case something should happen to you again."

Shock didn't quite describe it. Neither, unfortunately, did elation.

For a long moment, Nuriko's mouth worked silently as he strained for words--any words...in the space of just a few moments, he'd seemingly lost all ability to communicate. Luckily, however, Hotohori took control of the situation before the younger man was forced to gather his thoughts into anything intelligible.

"Come," the dark-haired seishi announced formally, already beginning to walk towards the edge of the forest. "You may sleep in my outer chambers." He glanced over his shoulder, noted that Nuriko was still staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. His expression softened. "Besides," he added in a gentler voice, "if I am destined to feel it when you're in pain, it would be better for you to be nearby, wouldn't it?"

Numbly, Nuriko nodded. A moment later, he found himself in the enviable position of walking just behind Hotohori, trekking through the palace gardens towards the emperor's chambers. He wondered idly if he would ever be able to find the will to speak again.

If he couldn't...it wouldn't bother him in the least.

~ ~ ~

"I apologize for this, Nuriko," the emperor was saying, gesturing to the wide, extravagant couch with one hand. "I realize it's not what you're used to, or the kind of thing anyone should be forced to sleep on..." He shook his head slightly, sending long strands of chestnut hair whispering over his shoulders. "If you like, I could wake one of the servants to go for a real bed--"

"No," Nuriko interjected quickly, still slightly dazed at the reality of the evening. "No, this is...this is fine, Hotohori-sama." He flushed, suddenly finding the intricate etchings of the nearby wall very interesting. "Arrigato."

Hotohori nodded slightly, traces of a smile dancing over his lips. "If anything goes wrong during the night, just call for me. I'll be in the next room. I'll hear you."

A strange, gentle warmth settled in the violet-haired seishi's heart, left him smiling and pleased. He turned, looked Hotohori directly in the eye. "I can't thank you enough," he said quietly. "Truly. Thank you."

---

Hotohori's eyes widened. This voice...these eyes...this hair...this person. Something warm and comfortable slipped through his veins, blanketed him in a gentle wash of happiness and contentment. Rather than smiling, however, he frowned, brow creasing in thought. Nuriko didn't seem to notice his indecision, though, as the young man busied himself with the making up of the couch into a bed. The eighteen-year-old's slim body twisted as he bent to tuck the soft, silken sheets beneath the cushions, turned to adjust the positions of the pillows, straightened to observe his work. Every movement was as silken as the nightclothes which hung from his slender body; smooth, graceful...perfect. Beauty in motion. But...

Nuriko was trembling. He could see it, in the slight jerk of his fingers, the way the breath slipped from his lips with audible difficulty. Was he...was he scared? Why?

Hotohori shook his head, feeling more than a bit stupid that he'd even had to ask such a question. It was obvious Nuriko'd had a terrifying evening...gods, he'd nearly died! Of COURSE he was scared...but...what could he do about it? The young emperor suddenly felt the overwhelming need to FIX this somehow, to make it better, to bring back the smiling, laughing Nuriko he was so accustomed to seeing flouncing about the palace these days...but, what could he do? He'd already promised to watch over the young seishi, to be nearby in case something went wrong...but...but, he still seemed frightened...

Instinctively, not giving himself time to rethink the action, Hotohori stepped forward, raised his arms...and pulled Nuriko into his embrace from behind. The other man stiffened, a small gasp slipping from his lips.

"Hotohori-sama!" he whispered, sounding startled.

Hotohori didn't answer. Instead, he placed his hands on the slender shoulders, turned Nuriko so the younger man was facing him, then hugged him close so a mass of violet hair rested just beneath his own chin, tickling lightly against the flesh of his neck and face. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. He'd meant it as a gesture of comfort, a sign of his own willingness to protect and assist in whatever ways necessary...yet, to attempt to put it into words, to say, "I'm doing this to comfort you," or, "You looked like you needed a hug"...would've cheapened it somehow, made it less than what it was. So, he said nothing...and after a few moments, Nuriko settled into his embrace, relaxed in his arms...breathed deeply, slowly...and rested.

---

It...it had to be a mistake. Yes. That was it...a mistake. Oops, sorry, didn't see you there, Nuriko...didn't mean to grab you like that...just tripped over the leg of the couch, fell right into you... Or...oh, sorry...you looked a lot like Miaka there for a minute...sorry, seishi-reflex...

But, as the seconds ticked by and still Hotohori clung to him...STILL Hotohori held him...he began to wonder if the other man might just know what he was doing. Could he...could he actually...

He let the thought trail off, delighting in the possibilities for a long, drawn-out moment of mental bliss...then, as it always did, reality came crashing down onto his dreams, and he knew it was time to be serious. This was...this was not a proclomation of love. He knew that. Hotohori didn't love him...but for some reason, perhaps the late hour, perhaps his own protection-oriented instincts, or perhaps just a passing whim, the young emperor found it necessary to comfort him, to hold him, to protect him, to draw him into that inner circle of warmth and care that very few ever found themselves lucky enough to enter. There was a reason for this...but, try as he might to convince himself otherwise, it was obviously not spawned from love.

Okay. So, Hotohori didn't love him...but...it really didn't matter...did it? Whatever the reason, whatever the thoughts behind it...he was finally in the one place he'd always dreamed of being, the one place he'd spent sleepless nights praying for, wishing for... There were strong, warm arms around him...that exotic scent--like herbs and apple blossoms and spice--was surrounding him, filling his nostrils, making everything warm and pleasant and safe. He sighed deeply, let his muscles relax, let his head slump against Hotohori's strong, firm chest.

Whatever the cause, this...was heaven.

---

It was...a strange sensation. The warmth of another body in his arms, the soft touch of violet silk against his skin, and then there was Nuriko's own distinct, intriguing scent--like lilacs and fresh rain--drifting through his senses, dulling his thoughts, bringing a new and welcome relaxation to muscles he'd been tensing since his rule of Konan began so many years ago... Even Miaka, for all her innocence and childlike beauty and disarming love, hadn't made him feel this way, hadn't brought this level of calm to his muscles, this degree of peace to his mind and body and...and soul.

For once, he didn't ask himself what he was doing or what was going on or even how Nuriko could possibly inspire such feelings within him. It didn't matter. It truly, truly didn't matter. He was where he needed to be, locked in a warm embrace, safe and comfortable and contented and warm...and, reality simply had no place here.

No matter what his own reasons might be...this was heaven...and he intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

~ ~ ~

And then…it ended.

It was a strange, mutual tensing of the muscles, as if the two seishi were somehow thinking with an extension of the same mind. One moment, Nuriko was comfortably tucked within the young emperor’s embrace…and the next, he’d taken a step back just as the taller man lifted his confining arms; both knew it was time for it to end, and so it ended, just as suddenly as it had begun. The smaller seishi turned away abruptly, trying vainly to force the sudden blush from his cheeks…even as Hotohori busied himself with much the same endeavor.

For a long moment, Nuriko found it difficult to look at the other man, to risk glimpsing that beautiful face twisted up in anger or disgust or disappointment, to dare see the slight curl of those slim, pinkish lips, the down-twist of the mouth, the angry coming-together of those thin, arched eyebrows… Was Hotohori…angry?

He nearly kicked himself. Gods, how could he not be? He’d held onto the embrace for much, MUCH too long… Of COURSE Hotohori hadn’t broken it off--that would’ve been rude, and something the young emperor would never, ever do…so, he must’ve just hung on, suffered through the closeness of the embrace just to be kind…oh, gods…how could he’ve been so stupid? He should’ve broken it off right away, should’ve known that Hotohori was only doing it for his benefit…he’d been selfish. He…he deserved the other man’s anger.

It was only right. What he’d done was…was unforgivable.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, he turned, stared boldly into the young emperor’s face, ready for hatred or disgust or just about anything…and felt a slight thrill of fearful hope run through his body.

Hotohori…was smiling.

It was a soft, secret smile, bending those elegant lips gently upwards, bringing a new warmth to the soft golden depths of the young emperor's eyes. "Nuriko," he said softly, the smile still dancing over his lips. "We should both get some sleep." He turned, swept towards his adjoining bedroom in a wash of white sleeping robes. "Remember. Call me if anything goes wrong. I'll be here."

Nuriko nodded, struck speechless by the other seishi's strange behavior, and raised a slim hand in farewell. "Goodnight...Hotohori-sama."

Hotohori nodded. "Goodnight, Nuriko." The door swung quietly closed...and Nuriko was once again alone.

---

He woke up with a start, gasping and frightened, suddenly unsure of where he was or what had woken him or what was going on...but, something was wrong. Gods, something was wrong...but, what was...what had happened...?

Then, he heard it.

"Gods," Nuriko murmured. "Hotohori...!"

The echoes of the anguished scream still ringing in his ears, the young seishi disentangled himself from the blankets and struggled to climb out of the sofa-turned-bed. A moment later he was padding silently across the carpeted floor, rushing for the door to Hotohori's room...gods, what if something was really wrong? What if an assassin from Kutou had somehow sneaked right past him, gotten into Hotohori's room...was...was killing him...?? One thought ripped through his mind, tore into him painfully, and for a moment he staggered, had to grab onto the nearby wall to steady himself...

//If anything's wrong with Hotohori...it's all my fault.\\

No...no...NO. Nothing was wrong. Hotohori was...was fine. He had to be... Beginning to get really, truly frantic, Nuriko reached a trembling hand to the doorknob, tightened his grip...and tugged the door open. Then, drawing in a long, calming breath, he steeled himself for the worst and took a long step into the darkened bed chambers.

"H...Hotohori-sama?" he called softly, tentatively. His voice shook...but it didn't matter. As long as Hotohori was alive and well...as long as he was SAFE...nothing else mattered. Still trembling, Nuriko ventured more deeply into the room, moved instinctively towards the large, canopied bed, his bare feet making small, oval-shaped imprints in the thick carpeting.

"Hotohori?" he called again, more quietly. He crept to the edge of the bed, dreading what he might find there, and slowly, tentatively, dropped to his knees beside it, let his chest rest lightly against the edge of the mattress. He was scared...gods, he was scared...what would he do if something had happened? What would he do if Hotohori was...if Hotohori was...

He shook his head, suddenly feeling very sick, and was forced to sit back on his heels for a moment, to do nothing more strenuous than just breathe...breathe. No. His mouth went dry with the thought. NO. Nothing was wrong. NOTHING. When he pulled back the light, silken drape and looked in...Hotohori would be lying there, sleeping lightly, alive and well and SAFE. Nothing was wrong. NOTHING was wrong.

He would've felt it if something had happened...he knew he would've...so... So.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and drawing in a long, deep breath of the fragrant bedroom air, Nuriko rose up onto his knees, reached out a hand...and tugged back the curtain. Trembling, more scared than he could ever remember being in his entire life, he peered into the darkness, and waited for the inevitable to rise before his eyes.

He scarcely breathed.

 

~ ~ ~

He was trapped. The darkness pressed down on him, pushed the breath from his body, made it difficult to draw even a whisper of air into his lungs...and, there was pain...it was a searing, ripping, agonizing pain, tearing through his chest, setting his flesh aflame with anguish and pain and a terrible, spreading numbness.

He was dying.

He was...he was floating...staring up into the shifting clouds, the source of his pain breathing heavily beneath him, the source of his...of his death...there...living...breathing... The monster was going to survive...he would get to the...get to the...!

”NO!” he screamed aloud, twisting, breaking free, straining against the pain. The strength had all bled from his body, but somehow...somehow...he found the power...where was it coming from? No...no...it didn’t matter. It didn’t...it didn’t matter... He threw his legs over his head, landed with a thud on the other side of the beast, and stretched up his arms, wrapped them around the creature’s neck, twisted...

It would...it would be over soon. He smiled tightly. For both of them.

He glanced downward, briefly, at his own wound, took a moment to draw the understanding that the blood pouring onto the snow was HIS...the vile wound staring back at him was HIS...the scream echoing into the snowy wilderness...was HIS.

Things began to fade, then, to drop away, gain the graininess of mist...but, even as they did, even as Hotohori felt himself being dragged from the dream, felt the pain fading from his side, the rage slipping from his mind, one image burned brightly before his eyes, did not lift even as he opened his eyes and stared into the cool darkness of his bedroom...

It was the willow, glowing brightly on his chest.

“Nuriko,” he whispered.

---

He reached up a trembling hand, pulled back the curtain, peered into the darkness...and, heard his name. Nuriko froze, shocked, and leaned forward, straining to see by the thin, muffled streaks of moonlight whispering into the room...he thought he saw a figure, lying there in the bed...of course it was Hotohori, but...but...

Was he all right?

”Hotohori-sama,” he said quietly, still very aware of the fact that his voice was audibly shaking. “Heika-sama. Are...are you there?”

--

Awake, shaking, and bathed in a cold, icy sweat, Hotohori was nonetheless very aware of the fact that he was no longer alone...but, who...

Then, he heard it. It was Nuriko’s voice, soft, tentative, and...shaking. Had something happened? What... And then, suddenly, the memory of the dream flooded back into him, washed over him like an icy wave, and he knew, knew knew KNEW...that it was not just an idle nightmare.

It was real. It was true...it was going to happen. Nuriko was...Nuriko was going to...

The realization trailed off, left his mouth dry and his heart thudding painfully in his chest. The very thought of it made him feel ill. He sat up in the bed, slid to the edge, swung his legs over the side, and stood. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see Nuriko gazing up at him, the younger man kneeling weakly on the floor, clutching at the side of the mattress as if for support...a thin ray of moonlight streaked in from the covered windows, glistened silver on the thick violet tufts of his hair...gods, he was beautiful.

The chill of certainty rippled through him again, left him feeling weak and angry and anguished...why? WHY? How could a loving god such as Suzaku allow something like this to happen?? Was this fair? Was this how things were SUPPOSED to go? Was there some divine reason for it...or, was this just a whim of the fates, something hideous to intercede in their lives simply because things had just been going too well lately?

He felt the tears building in his eyes, the twisting, wrenching feeling roiling in his stomach...Nuriko had risen to his feet, was standing there, staring at him with a vague look of confusion, lips slightly parted as if trying vainly to think of something to say. Hotohori turned away, unable to look at him anymore, unable to gaze into those wide violet eyes and know that soon...that soon...

This man, this friend...no matter what he did...no matter how he helped...no matter if he took him into his arms and held him and refused to ever, ever let go...was going to die.

His earlier words sprang back into his mind, stung him anew. //The rule of the sky...\\

No. It...it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t RIGHT! Why Nuriko? Why?

“H...Hotohori-sama...are you all right?”

He straightened, drew in a sharp breath. Nuriko...he had to tell him. He had to warn him! But...but, how could he? How could he even TRY to explain the terrible certainty tearing through his body...how could he explain what he’d seen, felt, experienced...he’d LIVED as Nuriko for those horrifying moments, had witnessed his innermost thoughts and feelings-his overwhelming loyalty to his Miko and his friends, his willingness to die to further the cause of Suzaku...he’d seen the raw strength of this man’s mind and body and heart, the courage of self-sacrifice, the burning, warming love for his Miko...his friends...his emperor...

Hotohori froze midthought, the realization slicing through him, sending a quick, sharp breath flooding into his lungs in surprise... Yes...he remembered that warmth, that memory...it was ingrained in Nuriko’s mind, a comfortable remnant hanging in the very back of his consciousness, a pleasant certainty...a painful reality...a blissful dream.

His eyes widened, and the breath seemed frozen in his lungs. Nuriko...loved him?

 

~ ~ ~

Hotohori was alive. He was all right. He was...he was here.

A wash of relief surged over him, left him feeling weak and breathless, and for a long moment, he found it difficult to move, to speak, to breathe. As he recovered, however, Hotohori slid from the bed, rose to his feet, gazed down at him with wide, haunted eyes...what had happened? He frowned up at the older man, willing the strength to return to his limbs even as he struggled for some explanation...he KNEW he'd heard Hotohori scream...

Nuriko closed his eyes, briefly, in sudden realization. Of course. A nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, however, Hotohori had turned away from him, now stood visibly trembling just a few feet away, one hand pressing tightly against his chin and mouth. Nuriko felt a wash of sympathy run through him, rose to his feet with only a slight twinge of difficulty. He and nightmares were all too acquainted with each other...of course, it was too much to hope for, but perhaps he could help somehow...perhaps...perhaps Hotohori would tell him what he'd gone through, let him...comfort him... Besides, it would be a welcome break from his own nightmares, hearing someone else's... With the thought, a phantom of his earlier pain lanced through him, made him wince, but he pushed past it, took a step closer to the young emperor.

"H...Hotohori-sama...are you all right?"

The other man straightened, but did not turn...he was still shaking, back still slightly hunched, arms crossed tightly before him...gods, when he stood like this, he looked so young...so fragile... Even with the broad shoulders, the towering height, the wide expanse of muscles coating his forearms...Hotohori looked fragile. Breakable. Vulnerable.

He didn't give himself time to think. To think would be to examine the repercussions, to consider what it might mean for his future as a seishi, for his future as a friend...so, he didn't think. He just moved.

---

Nuriko loved him.

Even as the thought hung on the edge of his mind, even as the startling realization streaked through him, left him feeling weak and weary and shocked, he couldn't quite find the will to turn around, to face Nuriko...to face the man who loved him...the man he'd just witnessed from the inside out for those few, startling minutes. Gods...how...how long had this been going on? Had Nuriko loved him from the very start?? Was it possible? He nearly laughed aloud, the thought was so ludicrous...all this time, he'd been straining towards Miaka, cursing the heavens because the one he was sure would love him with all her heart did not... He trailed off, shook his head slightly. All this time, as he'd been praying for her to come around...Nuriko had secretly loved him.

No. Not even secretly. Now that he looked back on it, now that he took a moment to retrace his days, glance back upon the hours he'd spent seeing nothing but his quest to gain Miaka's love...he could see it. That odd blush that sometimes crept into Nuriko's cheeks when they were together...that strange, admiring look...in his eyes... Gods. Gods, gods, gods. It was true.

It was true.

Someone...someone loved him. Loved him...deeply. How could he've missed seeing it before??

He sighed lightly...and suddenly remembered that Nuriko was still standing behind him, probably wondering what in the name of all the gods was going on with him...Great Suzaku, what was he going to SAY?? "Oh, by the way, Nuriko, I know that you love me, and you're also going to be dying sometime soon, so I'd watch out for snow fields and monsters, all right?"

No. No...he...he couldn't say anything. A phantom of the pain tore into him again, surged through his chest and heart and mind until he was sure he was going to fall, that the strength was going to bleed from his knees, send him plummetting downwards onto the rough carpeting...he winced, an anguished sheen of tears springing to his eyes. This pain...this agony...this was what was in store for Nuriko, wasn't it? Sometime in the future...sometime soon...this wasn't just going to be some idle nightmare to forget about and move on.

No. This was going to be reality. This was going to be Nuriko's...Nuriko's death.

As the thought trailed off, leaving him with nothing more than a cold, icy pain in the pit of his stomach, something...something changed. Inhaling a sharp breath, he straightened, letting his eyes flicker open, and stood stock still in the cool darkness of the room. He glanced down, already knowing what he would find but needing to see it with his own eyes, to confirm what he knew and felt was true...he saw those familiar bracelets, those thin, pale arms. They were wrapped around his chest, holding him close, tugging him into the warm embrace he himself had given only a few short hours ago.

//He's...he's trying to comfort me...\\ An immense sadness rippled in the back of his mind. //Gods...if he only knew...\\

Trembling with the enormity of the night's realizations, Hotohori hung his head, felt a single tear escape the thick barrier of his eyelashes, trail down his cheek towards the precipice of his chin. Despite its implications, he barely noticed it. Nuriko's body was warm and heavy against his back, the younger seishi's closeness both comforting and painful...this man...this boy...this seishi...this friend...he was going to...going to...

The tear dropped lightly from his chin, plummetted downward with a silent splash. Abruptly, Nuriko stiffened behind him, gently lifted his arms.

"Hotohori," he murmured.

The young emperor turned, stared at the other seishi with weary, pained eyes. Nuriko stood only a few inches away, one hand raised so it hung limply just before his face. He was staring at it, gazing in shock at the cool, silvery drop that glistened just over his flesh. His eyes were wide, startled. His lips parted, and he shook his head, looking confused and uncertain. "You're crying," he whispered.

It was...too much. The pain, the look in Nuriko's eyes--so caring, so willing to comfort, so ready to sacrifice...and the knowledge. He knew Nuriko now, knew him better than he'd ever known anyone before in his life...after all, he'd been inside him, had seen from his eyes and walked in his shoes and fought with his strength...he'd faced death as this man, and had glimpsed the unfathomable nobility and loyalty and strength which was Nuriko. He'd seen it...seen enough to know that he couldn't have possibly asked for a more worthy person to love him.

Hotohori rushed forward, grabbed Nuriko's thin shoulders, and pulled him close, held him so tightly that he wondered for a moment if he wasn't hurting the frailer seishi. No...no...it didn't matter. All that mattered was this moment, this second, this instant...right now, Nuriko was alive. He was alive...and he loved him. For so long, he hadn't seen it, hadn't even imagined that anyone could possibly find it within their hearts to love him...and, gods, he'd been so close! All this time...right here, right at his side...loving him...suffering the pain of seeing him with Miaka, watching him strive for something he knew he couldn't have even as Nuriko...oh, gods, Nuriko...

Despite his vague worries of causing the other pain, he pulled Nuriko closer, held him so close that he could feel the thudding of his heart against his chest, could feel the other man trembling in his arms...but, he was ALIVE! He was alive...and...

//And I love him.\\

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice soft and low, tinged with a bright speck of panic. "Tonight...stay with me."

Nuriko struggled in his arms, tried vainly to break free. "Hotohori-sama!" he exclaimed, sounding distressed and a little scared. "What...what are you talking about??"

He shook his head, relaxed his arms a bit so Nuriko had room to move, room to shift...the younger man took a small step back, stared up at him with large, startled violet eyes. "Hotohori-sama...you...you can't be serious... It would...it wouldn't be right..."

"No," he said. "No, not like that...Nuriko..." He closed his eyes, spent a long, silent moment debating with himself, struggling against his better judgment...

Great Suzaku, what was he even doing? He...he couldn't...he couldn't do this. He was an emperor! An EMPEROR!

But...

He opened his eyes. A small, secretive smile danced over his lips, brought a new warmth to his eyes, smoothed the lines of tension from his forehead.

//All that matters is now. Now.\\

Hotohori stepped forward, pulled Nuriko's small, slim hands into his own. The other tensed at his touch, was staring at him like he'd lost his mind...he smiled again. Perhaps he had. But...but, it didn't matter. Not at all.

"Nuriko," he murmured. He tightened his grip on those thin, pale hands, turned, and tugged the younger seishi to the wide, canopied bed, let out a long, soft breath. "Nuriko, I don't want you to...to do anything which either of us might regret." Nuriko flushed, turned his face away. "All I'm asking," he continued, smiling briefly at the reaction, "is for you to...to stay with me. Just...stay."

Nuriko turned back to him, gazed up at him with a look of suspicious disbelief coasting over his features. "Stay," he echoed. "Just...stay?"

"Yes. Just...stay."

Stay.

 

~ ~ ~

It...couldn't be real.

Nuriko closed his eyes, breathed in a heavy lungful of the warm, lightly-scented air. He tensed his fingers, squeezed the large, warm hands pressing tightly against his own...gods, they were real. He disentangled one hand, raised it up before him, pressed it gently outwards...it met resistance. Silk...the smooth, soft silk of Hotohori's night clothes...and beneath it, the gentle warmth of flesh, the thud of a heartbeat. Real. Carefully, tentatively, Nuriko opened his eyes, gazed up into the wide pools of golden amber staring down at him, the soft tufts of chestnut hair brushing lightly against his shoulders, the comfortable weight of Hotohori's presence right there in front of him...real. The words, eternally ingrained in his mind, hanging unanswered in the air between them...

//All I'm asking is for you to stay with me. Just...stay.\\

Real.

It was all...real. He began to tremble.

"Hotohori-sama," he managed, turning his face away, staring at the wall, staring anywhere but at those wide, smiling amber eyes, those slightly-upturned lips, that smooth, breathtaking beauty asking HIM to stay...asking HIM... "H...Hotohori..." He shook his head, chewed on his lower lip...and started as he felt a gentle hand brush against his cheek, a warm arm slide around his waist. The hand pressed lightly against his cheek, turned his face until he found himself gazing directly up into those soft golden eyes, the other man suddenly so close that he could feel the light warm exhalation of his breath on his face.

"Nuriko," Hotohori murmured, his voice low and solemn in the sudden silence. "Do you want to stay?"

He closed his eyes. //He doesn't mean it. It must be a mistake. It...it must be...he can't mean it...he's just missing Miaka...he wants her...he wants her, not me...not me...he doesn't mean it...\\ He shook his head, hoping the anguish wasn't too apparent on his face. "I...I don't think it would be right, Hotohori-sama...Heika-sama," he corrected, nearly wincing at the word. He needed to get out of here...it had been a bad idea in the first place...never should've set himself up for this...it was...it was painful...

"No," Hotohori said suddenly.

He stared up at the young emperor in surprise, the harshness of the word slicing deeply into his resolve, leaving him weak and wishing only to be able to go back in time, to erase this terrible, confusing night from his memory... Nonetheless, he knew he was expected to respond, that Hotohori was waiting for him to say something. He sighed. "No...no, what?"

Hotohori grabbed him by the shoulders, held onto them tightly. "No," he repeated firmly, strongly, his eyes wide and intense, glowing a faint, liquid amber in the dimness. "No, that's NOT what I asked you, Nuriko." He paused, sighed softly, relaxed his grip. "I asked you...do YOU want to stay? Not...not would it be right. Not is that what is expected of an emperor. I asked you if YOU want to stay." He drew a breath, held it. "Do you?"

The air froze in his lungs...and all he could do was speak the truth. "Yes," he whispered.

"Good," said Hotohori. "Then, stay."

Numbly, Nuriko let himself be led again to the edge of the bed, watched in a dreamlike kind of amazement as Hotohori climbed onto the soft mattress, slipped his long, muscular legs beneath the blankets, and tugged on his own slim, smaller hands. Again, he let himself be led, let himself be pulled into the bed...he moved mechanically, uncomprehending...but slowly, cautiously, began to let himself realize just what was happening. It trickled into his consciousness like dripping water, slowly filled his senses, began to seep towards his conscious mind...he was here...being pulled into a bed...with Hotohori...BY Hotohori...he was...he was...

Nuriko lifted the warm, cottony blankets, slid his legs beneath them, and lay a bit stiffly down onto the mattress, his head resting lightly on a thick, wide pillow...the one supporting Hotohori's own head just a few inches behind him... For a moment, he lay completely still, eyes wide as the numbness began to fade, as the realization of just where he was at last began to pervade his senses... His thoughts were broken off, however, as a warm hand slid around his waist, pulled him close. His back pressed into Hotohori's chest, his head was suddenly resting on the comfortable nook of the young emperor's arm...good GODS, he was lying in bed with HOTOHORI!

To hell with the reasons why. Nuriko closed his eyes.

It was...it was so warm. So...so wonderful. Another body, pressing against his own, a strong, protective arm around his waist, holding him close...gods, this was heaven...no. No, this was more than heaven. This was a dream. A dream of heaven. A dream he never wanted to wake from.

He opened his eyes abruptly, suddenly afraid--he dared not sleep...if he did...gods, if he did, it would mean waking from this dream...it would mean going back to the way things were, retracing his steps to when he was just another of the seishi and Hotohori was in love with Miaka...gods, it meant leaving this behind...losing this warmth... Feeling slightly panicked, he snuggled closer to Hotohori, grasped tightly onto the young emperor's arm and held it to his chest. "Don't let go," he whispered, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The arm around him tensed, pulled him closer, relaxed into the embrace. "Onegai. Don't let go."

Hotohori's voice boomed in his ear, low and deep and thick with promise. "I won't," he murmured. "I won't let go."

 

~ ~ ~

Even as he struggled to stay conscious, Nuriko felt himself losing to the subtle darkness of sleep, felt himself being dragged down, dragged away, his eyelids closing, his breathing slowing...Hotohori's warm breath tickled lightly against the back of his neck, soft and low and even--the young emperor had fallen asleep at least an hour ago, his smooth, handsome features soothed into a childlike innocence, his muscled arm still warm and heavy around the younger seishi's waist.

At last, Nuriko knew he had lost. He slumped against the pillow, relaxed in Hotohori's arms, and let his eyes slide gently closed. A few moments later, he was asleep...warm, safe, contented, and asleep.

Then, the dreams came.

---

Their eyes met, joined in the darkness...it was hot...warm...no. No, it was cold. Freezing, icy cold...it numbed his muscles, chilled his flesh, left him shivering and shaking in the darkness, arms wrapped vainly around himself as if to hug the warmth back into his body...it was no use...the warmth...it was leaving him, seeping from him, draining...draining...the life was draining...something flashed before his eyes, a brightness, a searing, flashing brightness...no. The sun was a chill kiss of dying warmth on his skin...and there was a scream...a shriek...his name...someone was calling him...it was so cold...but...but.

He gazed up into the cool, sapphire blue of the sky, stared into the shifting clouds, let the heatless sun bathe his flesh in a soft, surreal glow, and felt the sudden weight of tears in his eyes, a pain in his heart...

//I'm leaving...\\

I'm...leaving.

No. Don't. Please.

A low, soft voice, a breathy warmth against his ear. Something tightened around him...he fell to his knees, thudded softly into the sifting blanket of snow.

But...I have to.

No...please. It's taken so long...I've finally found you...and now...you're going to leave. You're going to leave me.

There was a flash of light, bright and searing in his eyes, leaving him half-blind and only partially aware of his surroundings...as his vision cleared, however, he could make out a shape in the clouds, a rolling, darkening shadow spreading itself over the horizon, blocking out the sun. He squinted, stared in fascination, unable to look away or move or even breathe. Slowly, the clouds took shape, danced and flashed and swirled before him...

A flash of armor, red, white, familiar...a wash of silken brown...the thunder of horse's hooves...a low, mocking laugh...and pain. A rippling, agonizing pain that shot through him like a knife, left him weak and lifeless on the ground. Struggling against the death he felt approaching, Nuriko stared down at his own broken, shattered body, inhaled a sharp breath of the crisp, icy air.

There was the willow, burning a fiery crimson on his chest, and beneath it, the ugly ripple of scarlet where the monster's claws had ripped into him, oozing in quiet streaks over his flesh...but...but...something was different this time, something was...something was new...there was a new pain within him, a new anguish...and a new peace. Shaking his head briefly, he shifted his gaze, studied the new wound piercing through his stomach...a sword-shaped hole, a sacrifice of love and duty...a tear from the other world, crystalizing before him...and there...there...

Nuriko smiled softly, bringing a hand to his neck, to the familiar, glowing seishi symbol that rested there, and closed his eyes. The tears streamed in salty lines down his cheeks, washed away the pain, washed away the darkness...washed it all away until there was nothing but the glare of crimson, the weight of Hotohori's arm around his waist, the strong, comfortable warmth of the other man's body pressing against his back.

Coming fully out of the dream now, Nuriko opened his eyes, gazed out into the cool, silvery darkness of the bed chambers, and snuggled closer to Hotohori. The older seishi mumbled softly in his sleep, unconsciously tightened his grip on the other's slim waist. Nuriko smiled, tears blurring his vision, trickling softly down his cheeks, staining the pillow, pooling on the sheets...

The knowledge...it was going to leave him by the morning, he knew. It was going to leave, just as the memories of the dreams always did...but for now...for now, he was being given a great gift, one he could only pray he would regain the memory of before he died. And...and, he was going to die. Soon. It would be a heroic death, he knew, for Miaka...for Tamahome...for Hotohori...for everyone. For them, he would...leave. Die. Vanish.

For them.

His lips lifted, and a quiet, muted sob escaped them, lay heavily in the silence of the bed chambers. Yes. He was going to die...but...but, he knew now...knew that this wasn't the end, that he would watch over them even as the darkness of death took him, that he would protect them and be with them and wait for the day when they would all be together again. And...

Hotohori. The knowledge seared into him, pushed another short, anguished sob from his lips. Hotohori was going to die, too, another heroic sacrifice...but gods, what else would he've expected from the young emperor?

//For you, Miaka...we both give our lives. And, I think...I think it's all right. I think that's how it's supposed to be...I think it's all right.\\

"Nuriko." A soft voice in his ear, a tensing of muscles behind him.

He sniffled, wiped vainly at the wetness on his cheeks. "Hotohori?"

The other shifted, hugged him closer. "It IS all right," Hotohori murmured sleepily. "The...the rule of the sky...so it's...all right..." His breathing slowed again, his muscles relaxed, and Nuriko knew he'd fallen back asleep.

The tears dried on his cheeks, and a new, peaceful smile twisted his lips upwards, brought a gentle warmth to his eyes. "Yes," he whispered aloud, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against the pillow. "It's all right."

And, it would be. It...would be.

 

~ ~ ~

He woke slowly, lazily, aware only of the fact that he was warm, contented, and couldn't remember having slept so well in years. His eyelashes fluttered, parted, let in the soothing streaks of morning sunlight, began to bring the room into focus...something seemed off about it...it seemed...larger somehow...and, come to think of it...

Nuriko gasped, sat up straight in the bed, and nearly cried out as he felt a warm weight drop from his waist with the movement. He spun, the sheets clumping at his waist, and stared in near-hysterical shock at the sleeping emperor in bed beside him, at that smooth, majestically-pale skin, that silken chestnut hair, that muscled arm...holding him close all night...this...this man...he'd loved...for so long... It came back to him slowly, piece by piece, bit by bit, until he at last managed to force the breath back into his lungs, to stop the sudden shivers rippling through his body, to soothe his tensed muscles...yes. He remembered. His face softened, his lips turning gently upwards into a peaceful, contented smile.

"Hotohori-sama," he murmured quietly, lying down on his side so he faced the other man. He reached up, lazily, brushed a silken strand of hair from the young emperor's face. "Hotohori-sama," he tried again, still smiling softly, his cheek resting against the pillow only a few inches away from the other's face. "Hotohori...it's morning."

Hotohori's dark eyelashes fluttered, his forehead creased. A moment later, his eyes slid open, liquid amber in the soft morning sunlight. His lips parted. "Nuriko," he whispered. Smiling slightly, Hotohori turned so he lay on his back, stared up at the silken canopy over their heads. "Gods, it wasn't a dream," he murmured after a moment. "I was...I was so sure that it was."

A dream... Nuriko frowned, bringing a hand to his forehead as he, too, stared at the gaping canopy above them.

Hotohori glanced at him, frowned. "Nuriko? What is it?"

The younger man shook his head, shrugged with a rustle of silk against the sheets. "I...I don't know. Something about...about dreams..." He shrugged again, rose to a sitting position with a soft groan of effort. "It's not important, Hotohori-sama."

The young emperor opened his mouth to respond...but was cut off as something thudded into the soft wood of the chamber door, hammered persistently for a few moments. Hotohori let out a long-suffering sigh. "What is it?" he called.

A high, squeaky voice rose through the door, pierced effectively through the lingering haze of sleep. "Hotohori!" Miaka cried, sounding a bit frantic. "We need your help...we...we can't find Nuriko! He wasn't in his room and nobody's seen him all morning and we're leaving for Hokkan tomorrow... What if something happened to him? Please, Hotohori, can you help us look? We've already been all over the palace and we even checked by the pond but we can't--"

Miaka broke off, frowning, as a strange sound echoed through the bed chambers, clearly audible even through the thick wood of the door. Laughter? Puzzled, the girl pushed on the door, took a long step into the room...and felt her mouth drop open. "N...Nuriko??" she gasped out, staring in shock at the scene before her. She shifted her gaze to the other occupant of the wide, canopied bed, eyes widening in shock. "H...Hotohori...and...and..." She trailed off, spent a long moment in silence...then, abruptly, her mouth stretched suddenly upwards, and Miaka let out a pleased, high-pitched squeak. "Ohhhhhh, kawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaii! Hotohori, I'm so happy for you!"

Hotohori placed a hand over his forehead, a thick blush creeping into his cheeks. "Miaka," he began, "It's not--"

A voice echoed through the hallway, cut him off. "Miaka! Where are you? Miaka, I'm sure you're overreacting--you shouldn't bother Hotoho--" Tamahome broke off, mouth hanging numbly open, as he stepped into the elder seishi's bed chambers, caught a glimpse of just what was going on... "Good GODS!" he shrieked, leaping backwards a step. "Hotohori-sama...Nuriko!"

By this time, Nuriko had finally managed to control his laughter, Hotohori was rubbing at the blush on his cheeks as if trying to force it away, and Miaka was clambering around the side of the bed, pressing the two seishi for details with wide, glittering eyes...

At last, Nuriko sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and rose to his feet. "Miaka, Tamahome." He fixed the two with a stern glance, placed his hands on his hips. "This isn't what it looks like." He turned, gestured to the blushing emperor. "Hotohori-sama was nice enough to let me sleep in his outer chambers last night. I slept out THERE," he insisted, pointing to the blankets and pillows still strewn over the couch. "I just came in here to see if he was awake yet. That's ALL." He smiled, winked covertly at Miaka. "You can't blame me for trying, though, ne, Miaka?"

Miaka giggled, although she looked a bit disappointed. "I guess not," she said glumly. A moment later, however, she'd brightened again. "Ne, Nuriko! Now that we've found you, we can go eat!"

Nuriko smiled, locking arms with Miaka and beginning to walk from the room. "Aw, Miaka--you skipped breakfast for me?"

Miaka nodded proudly. "Hai! It was horrrrrrrrible, Nuriko. It's been so long since I've eaten, I've almost forgotten what food tastes like!"

Tamahome scowled, followed them out the door. "You liar! You stuffed your face with snacks just a couple minutes ago!"

Nuriko shrugged, turned to Miaka with a grin. "Ne, it's the thought that counts..."

Hotohori could only watch, taken aback, as Nuriko glided from the room, slipped through the outer chambers...and then was gone.

//He lied for me.\\

At once, a great sadness filled his heart, washed over him like a wave of icy water...but no matter how he thought about it, how he examined it or struggled to understand it...the comprehension wouldn't come. Shrugging and still feeling a bit uneasy, Hotohori climbed from his bed and began to dress.

After all, it was going to be a big day, what with preparing the others for their journey, getting Tamahome's family safely secured into their new house in the city...and tomorrow. Hotohori sighed briefly, half out of his sleeping clothes, and gazed at himself in the mirror. Tomorrow...they were leaving...leaving him behind.

The sadness seeped into his veins, again, left him frowning and puzzled. What was it about this trip...and Nuriko...that made him feel this strange sorrow? He would miss the younger seishi, of course...his presence was like a bright spot in the dull routine of his days, and no one had ever been so willing to help him...or so kind, so cheerful, so giving, so self-sacrificing...

He broke off again, midthought, and let out a breath of air in a hiss. Self-sacrificing? Where had that come from? Hotohori shook his head, selected one of the freshly-washed imperial robes, and began to dress. He had no time for this...no...no time at all, so...he would ignore it. Yes...ignore it as he'd forced himself to ignore his feelings for Miaka, ignore it as he would now have to ignore his feelings for Nuriko... He nodded firmly to himself, cinching belt around his waist, and set to arranging his long hair.

Yes. He would just ignore it...and it would go away.

Despite his best efforts, however, the strange sorrow still mixed within his stomach later that morning, as he watched Tamahome and Miaka begin the long trek to Tamahome's village...as he watched Nuriko skip off after them...as he watched the others busy themselves with loading the boat for the trip.

It was with him as he crawled into bed that night, cold and alone...gods, how could he be missing Nuriko like this? He'd spent one night sleeping beside the other seishi, and yet now that he slept without him, his bed seemed strangely...empty...his life seemed...empty? Was that it? Gods, he didn't know...this whole thing was too strange, too oddly-perfect...how had it even happened? When he looked back on that night, he clearly remembered the emotions, the need to have Nuriko beside him...even now, he felt that need...but, the thought behind it...the reasoning...that seemed strangely lost. The really maddening part of it was that he sensed that the knowledge was there somewhere, that he KNEW there were reasons behind his sudden affection for the other seishi...but, for some reason, he just couldn't GET to them.

After nearly twenty more minutes of struggling to sort the answers out in his mind, Hotohori at last gave up and lay back onto the pillow, closed his eyes. Soon, he was asleep.

Morning came all too quickly.

 

~ ~ ~

The conversation was understandably spare on the way back to the palace.

Tamahome walked with almost manic speed ahead of them, his movements subtly, painfully stiff, his hands shoved deep into the folds of his pockets. Nuriko kept a respectful distance behind him, sensing the younger man's need to walk alone, and Miaka--after a few minutes of trying vainly to keep up with the dark-haired seishi--eventually sank back as well, joined in on Nuriko's gentler, slower strides.

"Nuriko," she said after a moment, her voice low, soft--she needn't have bothered, of course, since Tamahome was already well out of hearing distance, but then he doubted that was the only reason for her tone. "Nuriko...why did...why did something like this have to happen...to Tamahome?"

He turned, looking down on this fragile girl with large, pained violet eyes, listened as she continued. Her face was pale and anguished, her eyes lightly closed even though she was still moving. Miaka's voice dropped to a whisper. "Is it...is it my fault?"

Nuriko reached out a slim hand, latched onto Miaka's arm, and pulled her to a halt. She kept her eyes closed, turned her face away, wouldn't look at him...and for some reason, it hurt...why couldn't she look at him? "Miaka," he said quietly, firmly, "it's not your fault."

"No," she murmured in a soft, choked voice. "No...if I hadn't become Suzaku no Miko...if I didn't...if I didn't love Tamahome...then this never would've happened. They'd all still be alive...and, so it's my fault. You see, don't you, Nuriko? It's all my fault."

"NO." She still wasn't looking at him...gods, why was it bothering him so much?? Closing his eyes briefly, Nuriko released Miaka's arm, reached up a gentle hand, and turned her face towards him, held it there until she at last met his gaze. Baka," he whispered affectionately. "It's not your fault. You know it's not. Come on, pull yourself together. We have to be strong for Tamahome, don't we?"

Miaka nodded once, brushed at the tears glistening in her eyes, and turned, began to walk again. After a few moments, Nuriko followed, a troubled expression flitting across his features. Why had he said that?? The words struck into him, sliced through his heart and mind until the memories flooded before his eyes, unbidden and uncontrollable...

//...Ryuen...Kourin's dead...you have to be strong...all you can do now is forget her...you have to be strong...\\

Nuriko let his eyes drop closed for a moment, shoved back the familiar, biting emotions...

//How can I be strong...when it's my fault she died?\\

No. Now was not the time. This old argument, this old self-hatred...this was NOT the time! Tamahome and Miaka needed him now. EVERYONE needed him now. He had to be strong...he had to be...he had to be a man.

Yes...that was it. Nuriko let out a soft breath and began to walk again, moving swiftly until he had caught up with Miaka...but she didn't even glance at him as he approached. But that was...all right. He remembered, suddenly, again, the day Kourin had died...not being able to even glance at his father...dreading looking the man in the eye...because, gods, it was his fault Kourin was dead! If he hadn't been there...if she hadn't been running to him...if he had only seen the carriage coming a MOMENT earlier...

If he had saved her.

Was that how Miaka felt? He considered turning to her then, bashing her over the head until she UNDERSTOOD that this was most definitely NOT her fault...but reconsidered as he caught a glimpse of her, walking there beside him with her head hung low and the tears welling in her eyes. He was startled for a moment, then, as he recalled all the other times he'd seen Miaka in pain...always, she tucked it away, hid it behind a mask as effective as Chichiri's own. Always...always smiling, laughing, saying, "Don't worry, I'm fine...it's no big deal..." But...he'd always been able to see through it, to glimpse the anguish rippling just beneath the surface...because, after all, he was more than familiar with that mask. He should be. He wore it often enough himself....

Now, though... He glanced at Miaka again, took in the pale, tear-stained cheeks, the glistening eyes, the trembling lip, the clenched teeth...this was no mask. Was it that she trusted him enough, now, to show her true face...or that she was just too upset to hide it? A morbid thought struck into him then, suddenly, crept into his mind even before he knew it was there.

//Would she show this face if I died?\\

He froze in the thought, appalled. What was with him today?? A shiver worked its way through his body, and he wrapped his arms around himself, tried to hug the warmth back in...gods, what a morbid, horrible thought...and, here was Tamahome, trying vainly to go on after his entire family had just been killed...and he was thinking about stupid things like that. Gods.

Ten minutes later, they reached the familiar dock, glimpsed the other seishi. Neither Miaka nor Tamahome had spoken and didn't appear they were going to, so Nuriko moved to the front of their little travelling group, mounted the stairs and stepped up onto the dock. The other two were right behind him, their feet making dull, shadowy echoes against the thick wood...he turned, glanced at them...

Miaka still wasn't looking at him...and...and Tamahome...

He sighed, watching as the younger seishi clambered up onto the ship and busied himself with moving various suitcases into neater piles. Damn it. Why had this happened just before their trip?? Gods, why had it happened at ALL? Just...just children...

Monsters. That boy...revenge for his dead twin, he'd said...gods. Just children.

"Nuriko?"

It was Hotohori. He moved towards the other man a bit stiffly, resisting the sudden urge to fall into his arms and close his eyes...ah, that would be nice... He sighed. Nice...but, impossible. He'd already spent enough time lying to the others to prevent them from discovering just what had gone on the other night, and to be so blatant about it now...he felt his cheeks flushing. Besides, he doubted Hotohori had seen anything more in him than a warm body to hold onto for a night...nothing special...nothing like...like love.

He stopped, suddenly feeling ashamed. Tamahome's family had just been murdered, and he was moping because Hotohori would never love him?? Gaaaaah. Forcing himself to push the emotion from his face, Nuriko moved to Hotohori's side, gave the brief, expected bow. "Hotohori-sama," he began.

---

There was something...not right. He could sense it in the odd way Nuriko was moving, the strange, preoccupied glint in Tamahome's eyes...the way Miaka was very purposely not looking at anyone or anything...the way her hands twisted together in her lap, casting dark, shifting shadows on the fabric of her skirt... Gods, something had happened... He spotted the violet-haired seishi approaching, raised a slender eyebrow in his direction.

"Nuriko?"

The younger man glanced wearily up at him, moved to his side in a few long-legged strides. Miaka skulked behind him, those thin fingers tangling together in front of her...a dark, twisting sensation began to build in his stomach, thundering within him until he could nearly feel the blackness slipping over his vision, the fear bubbling in his veins...something had really, truly happened...but, they were all three alive, weren't they? If they were alive and well, then what could've...

Abruptly, it struck him, left him cold and silent in the icy darkness of certainty.

//Tamahome's family.\\

Nuriko had reached him, was gazing up at him with those large, anguished violet eyes. "Hotohori-sama," he said quietly. His voice was softer than usual, rough with a tinge of pain, and Hotohori suddenly had the wild and inexplicable urge to gather this agonized young man into his arms, hold him tightly until it all went away...until it was like that night...that night when it changed...that night when he drifted to sleep with a gentle warmth surrounding him and the scent of lilacs filling his nostrils and the indescribable sensation of feeling Nuriko's heartbeat thud against his own swirling through him...gods. It had been perfect.

"Hotohori-sama," Nuriko repeated, looking a bit uneasy. He closed his eyes briefly, drew in a deep breath. "Heika. Tamahome's family was...was killed...by a Seiryuu seishi."

---

There. It was out. His duty here was done.

Nuriko opened his eyes, took a small step back from the young emperor. Hotohori was staring at him with wide, agonized amber eyes, one hand moving a bit shakily to his lips as if to push back the shock. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "Tamahome's family..." His eyes closed. "It must be killing him."

Chichiri spoke, then, but Nuriko had already turned away, was moving away from the dock, away from the other seishi...away from Hotohori who didn't love him...away from Miaka who didn't want to look at him... A few moments later he was jogging down the dirt path towards the nearby line of trees...then he was running...dashing...flying...he didn't know where he was running to or why...but he had to run. He had to. The wind sweeped the hair back from his face, sent his long, thick braid flapping wildly out behind him, but he paid no attention to it...he set his foot down wrong, felt his ankle twist beneath his weight, but he didn't stop...he couldn't stop...he ran.

A few minutes later, Nuriko stumbled to a halt, ten feet or so into the cool, glistening depths of the woods, his feet sinking thickly into the moist forest floor, the far-off chirpings of birds and small forest animals drifting to him even over the harsh rasps of his own agonized breathing. His ankle throbbed, his legs were on fire, and it hurt to even draw a breath...that, and he'd completely destroyed his braid--thick strands of hair hung in wispy tufts around his head, poked free of their braided restraints, tickled irritatingly against his cheeks and neck... Ah, well...that's what he got for losing control like that... Still gasping for air and struggling to fight the wave of dizziness washing over him, the young seishi lowered himself carefully onto a nearby mossy log, tugged his long hair free until it hung in long, full waves about his face and shoulders.

He gazed at it for a moment, holding a long strand between his slim fingers. It really was beautiful hair...Kourin would've loved it.

Sighing softly to himself, Nuriko set to the task of rebraiding it, the cool, moist forest air filling his lungs, calming his tensed muscles, bringing a new and welcome peace to his stressed mind...gods, what a hideous day yesterday had been... First, finding them there, dead and not-so-dead...letting Miaka cling to him...holding tightly onto her...supporting her...saving her. For the first time in his life since Kourin's death, he'd felt like a MAN. That boy...Suboshi...he'd raised his arms, cried out an incantation, sent those strange flying spheres soaring towards him and Miaka...and he'd gathered the girl into his arms and leaped with her to safety.

He'd saved her...he'd been strong, powerful...he'd protected her as his duty as a Suzaku seishi dictated...and he'd never felt better about himself in his life.

He slipped his fingers through his long, silken violet hair, folded it into another braid. //Ne...maybe it's time to start acting like a guy again...after all, I can't protect Miaka if I'm still acting prissy. Maybe...maybe it's finally time.\\

Nuriko closed his eyes lightly, the thick tuft of hair still twisted in his fingers, and let a soft, peaceful smile drift onto his lips. "Gomen ne, Kourin," he murmured.

Suddenly, something rustled, and he heard movement from just ahead--someone was coming...startled, Nuriko rose to his feet, immediately regretted it as the ankle he'd twisted earlier decided to give out beneath him. Tumbling towards the ground, the young seishi stretched out an arm, grabbed for a nearby branch...and scowled as it broke off in his fingers.

All right, fine. So, he was going to end up on his butt on the ground. There were worse things that could happen...

Just as he was bracing himself for impact, however, he heard the rustling again, closer this time, caught a glimpse of flowing crimson robes out of the corner of his eye...and suddenly, strong arms were around him, holding him up, keeping him from crashing unceremoniously into the ground. The next moment, he'd been hoisted back onto his feet, placed back onto the log as easily as if he were a child...and found himself staring up into those familiar, beloved amber eyes...

He stared in shock, scarcely able to believe it. "H...Hotohori-sama? How did you...?"

Hotohori was gazing down at him, eyes large and glittering with unshed tears, fingers trembling above his own, dark, slender eyebrows tilted upwards in anguish. The young emperor knelt beside the log he sat on, tightened his grip on the younger man's fingers, and gazed up into his eyes, looking young and hurt and pained...looking nothing like the strong, confident emperor he was so accustomed to.

Nuriko found himself caught up in the gaze, eyes widening in a quiet, appreciative kind of startlement. //He looks so vulnerable,\\ he found himself thinking. //Gods, he looks...scared.\\

He opened his mouth to ask why, how...but mostly WHY. Why had he come? Why had he followed? Why did he care? Why had he dived forward to catch him, keep him from falling? Why was he staring like this? Why were his fingers warm and strong around his own? Why were his eyes filled with tears? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Why was he staring like that?

But...but he never got the chance to ask.

Nuriko's lips parted to form the questions...and suddenly, amazingly, impossibly, Hotohori slid forward, wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man's shoulders...and...and kissed him. Shocked beyond words, Nuriko felt his body go limp, his muscles fade into inactivity, his mind go completely and irrepressibly numb...even as his lips shrieked with sensation, even as he felt Hotohori's warm breath against his skin, even as a strange, near-suspicious wonderment began to build within him...it just didn't seem real...no...no.

It felt TOO real.

A moment later, Hotohori broke off the embrace, lifted his lips from the kiss, opened those beautiful liquid-amber eyes...and Nuriko realized with a jolt of shock that tears were streaming in thin lines down the young emperor's face, washing over his high, prominent cheekbones, trickling over his lips, dripping to the edge of his chin. It was the second time Hotohori had cried in his presence...but...but, what had happened last time? Gods, he...he couldn't remember...it had been that night, but...but, what had caused it? The memory was trapped within him, dark and uncertain, hanging over him like a darkened storm cloud, ready to break...but he couldn't remember...gods, he couldn't remember...

But...but, no. No, it wasn't important...NOW was important. THIS was important.

"Hotohori-sama," he whispered, the words achingly familiar in his mind. "You're...you're crying."

Hotohori stared at him with those same wide, pained, tear-filled golden eyes, and inclined his head a fraction of an inch, brushed lightly at the new wetness clinging to his cheeks. He closed his eyes, spoke three words and three words only...but they were enough to drive a thick chill into the younger man's spine, to set a heavy, smothering darkness to settling in his heart...gods, what did it even MEAN??

"Nuriko," he managed. "I..." He choked. "I remember."

 

~ ~ ~

Nuriko stared, confused, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and felt a shudder run through his body. He forced it back, frowned up at Hotohori. "Re...remember what?" he asked. His voice was a whisper, a harsh, violent fear ripping through him, sending the terror deep into the pits of his heart...gods, what was going on? Why was he feeling this? And what DID Hotohori mean by that? He remembered? Remember what?

The young emperor shook his head, bringing one of Nuriko's slim hands to his cheek, holding it there as if savoring the touch. Then, he closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut, and Nuriko watched in a fearful kind of fascination as a well of tears bubbled through his eyelashes, trickled in streams over his cheeks. Gods, what the hell was going on??

---

It had happened...in an instant.

One moment, he was standing there, watching Tamahome dangling Tasuki over the side of the ship, listening as Chichiri spoke solemn words of reassurance just behind him...and then, suddenly, he realized that something was different...someone had gone...a part of himself...had gone... He turned, confused, glanced around...and remembered Nuriko...the younger man had been standing right there, just in front of Miaka, head held low in that official, respectful bow...but, now...where had he gone? Puzzled, Hotohori turned, glanced around the small dock in search of the other seishi...but, Nuriko was nowhere in sight. He was just opening his mouth to ask if Chichiri had seen anything when, abruptly, a whisper of movement caught his eye, and he turned, spotted that familiar violet braid, that small, thin frame... Nuriko was...running?

Ignoring the questioning glances of his advisors and friends, Hotohori shuffled his way through the crowded dock, leaned lightly against the railing at the very edge, and stared. Nuriko was running...no. He was running away.

The thought flickered in his mind, left him frowning and more confused than before. //Running away from what? From me? From this trip? From...\\

An icy jolt streaked through him. //From...death?\\

Fur...fangs...claws...death...blood...snow...gods, blood in the snow...the willow...Nuriko...gods...GODS...!

Hotohori began to run. He thundered down the few stairs, planting his oddly-shaped ceremonial shoes firmly on the ground, and ran...ran...gods, he ran. His feet slammed against the dusty ground, sending ripples of impact shuddering up his legs, but he didn't care...he didn't care...gods...gods...how could he have forgotten?? That night...the dreams...he remembered now, so suddenly it startled him...so obvious that he found himself feeling unendurably stupid...he'd lived as Nuriko...he'd been him...he'd seen it...he'd felt it...he'd died...gods, he was going to die...he had to...he had to do something! The panic swirling in his brain, Hotohori ran faster, watched with a blank kind of horror as Nuriko turned, vanished into the woods...gods, that was what was going to happen, wasn't it? Nuriko was going to...going to disappear.

Die. Gods. He was going to die.

No more of Nuriko's laughter. No more of Nuriko's smiles. No more of Nuriko's kindess...Nuriko's warmth...Nuriko's...love.

Gods, it wasn't fair...it wasn't fair... The tears were already building in his eyes as he dashed through the edge of the forest, charged down the path towards where he guessed Nuriko had gone...he heard a rustle, pushed his way into a small clearing...and watched, horrified, as Nuriko slipped, began to fall...

//He stood trembling in the snow, gazing up into the shifting clouds, a harsh, violent scarlet coloring his vision, streaking over his damaged flesh, dripping down onto the snow...but...but someone was calling him, shouting his name...it echoed in his ears, brought him back to reality...Kourin? No...no, this was...this was... He turned, caught a glimpse of Miaka and Tamahome, running towards him, arms pumping frantically at their sides...he smiled, gently...good...Miaka was here...she was...she was here...good. Things began to fade, then, and he felt the strength drain from his muscles, the ability to stand bleed out of his legs...he began to fall, to drift backwards, to flutter towards the ground as delicately as a falling feather... He landed in a soft pocket of snow...and lay still.\\

Anguished and shocked, Hotohori dashed forward, grabbed Nuriko into his arms before the younger seishi could hit the ground...before he could...before he could go away...leave...die...gods...gods...

Gently, carefully, he lifted Nuriko onto the nearby log, wrapped his hands around the younger man's warm, slim fingers...as he held them, his fingers slipped over Nuriko's wrist, felt the warm, steady pulse as if to reassure himself...but...but, gods...

//I...I can't lose him. Not now.\\

Because...because...

//Because I love him.\\

---

The warmth of Nuriko's lips still lingered on his own, dulling his other senses, leaving him blind and deaf and absolutely speechless...he struggled for words, realizing numbly that Nuriko was frowning up at him, no doubt utterly and totally confused...well, what did he expect after throwing out an obscure comment like that?

//I remember...\\

An anguished weight hung in his throat, made it difficult to swallow...how could he tell him? How could he open his mouth and let the other man know that if he went on this trip, if he walked up this road and stepped up onto that dock and got onto that boat...that they would never see each other again?? That...that that would be the end of it all...the end of...the end of this. The end of his LIFE. Gods, how could he tell him?

But...how could he NOT?

"Nu...Nuriko," he managed. "I...there's something...you need to know."

[No.]

Suddenly, a wash of darkness slid over him, dragged him from the soft, moist ground of the forest glen, whisked him upwards, away...far away...into the darkness...into the night...the blackness...what was happening? Hotohori had the sudden impression of no longer being where he had been, of suddenly being very far away, very high...very...very cold...no...no. It was a warmth, a gradual, growing warmth...and a light...it shone brightly against the velvety-black backdrop, glittered in his eyes, glistened red against the smooth pallor of his skin...

//What...what is this?\\

[Saihitei.]

He started, hearing his name...his REAL name...his given name...the one he'd heard so often on his mother's lips, on his father's...on the infantile tongues of his few and scattered playmates as a child...Saihitei. The willful prince...the brave boy king...the gentle emperor. Gods...who was calling him?

[Saihitei.]

All was black, but for that one spot of crimson light, that one, shining splash of scarlet brilliance...it was small, now, coming to him from afar...but, he could sense it growing, feel it coming towards him, ready to envelop him, swallow him up...devour him?? No...no... A gentle warmth settled over his features, left him contented and at peace. No...this was not the end. To...to enter that light...it meant sacrifice, yes...but, that wasn't all there was. No. That wasn't all.

The warmth of the light clung to him, wrapped him in a gentle blanket of reassurance and love, and he felt his eyes closing, felt himself being taken back, tugged away...he felt a surge of longing explode within him...this was where he was meant to be, where all the struggles of his life would be culminated...he needed to be THERE, not here! What was left for him, anyway? Why did he have to wait...why couldn't he...why couldn't he enter it NOW...??

The cool voice of the god slipped over him. [Not yet, Saihitei. Not yet. But soon.]

He nodded slightly, the tears clinging to his eyes, and felt the warmth of Suzaku retreat from his body, drift back away into the mists of time...

[Soon.]

And, then, there was a flash of light, a rush of sound and sensation...and, abruptly, he was back in the clearing with Nuriko, gazing up at the younger man from where he sat on the ground, his fingers still wrapped around Nuriko's small, pale hands... The smaller seishi tilted his head slightly, gazed at him questioningly...and Hotohori knew, then, what he had to do. He knew...he knew. A soft, gentle smile drifting onto his lips, he brushed at the last remnants of the tears on his cheeks, rose carefully to his feet. A moment later, he had wrapped his arms around a startled Nuriko and pulled him close, was holding the younger seishi in a tight, warm, loving embrace. His fingers pressing gently against the smooth curve of Nuriko's backbone, and the thud of the younger man's heartbeat was once again strong and constant in his ears, his breathing soft and warm against his neck.

"Nuriko," he whispered, still clinging to the younger seishi, holding him tightly, strongly... "I need...to tell you something. To...to give you something."

Nuriko shifted gently in his arms, but did not resist this time...did not try to break away. He let out a soft, warm breath. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Hotohori tightened his grip for an instant, then relaxed, let his head rest lightly against Nuriko's own. Wisps of violet hair brushed against his flesh, fluttered before his eyes. He fought back the sudden burst of sorrow and heartache, strained to regain the certainty...the knowledge...the warmth of Suzaku's light... A burst of indecision flickered through him despite his struggles, and he nearly broke, then, nearly let the words slide from his lips, let out what he knew would change everything...but, something stopped him. That...that voice...

[Saihitei,] it said simply, gently. [Remember the light.]

Ah. He did. Hotohori's muscles, tensed in his moment of indecision, relaxed, and he felt the crimson warmth whispering through his veins once more, comforting him, soothing him...bringing him to the moment he'd known was coming...the moment he'd both dreaded and anticipated...because...it was a double-edged sword, this moment, an end and a beginning...a farewell...and a promise of greetings to come.

He closed his eyes, focused on the warm body in his arms, and let the scarlet light wash over him, envelope them both...he felt the chi leave him, heard a soft gasp slip from Nuriko's lips as the energy flooded into him...

---

Hotohori was...was giving him...his chi?

It washed into him in a silent wash of crimson light, swept over his skin and into his pores and into the very depths of his mind and body...gods, into his soul...it was an indescribable, unfathomably-breathtaking sensation...he could actually feel the other man's life force whispering within him, could feel that gentle authority, that loving kindness, that unceasing self-sacrifice...everything that was Hotohori, everything he had ever loved...it was all there, inside of him, filling him, empowering him, driving the warmth and contentment into every avenue of his heart and mind...

"Take it with you," Hotohori whispered. He hesitated, drew in a long, heavy breath, then let it out slowly. The arms surrounding his body relaxed, hugged him closer. "And...Nuriko...when it's over...come back. I'll...I'll be waiting."

He lifted his head from Hotohori's chest, gazed up into those soft amber eyes. His lips parted to ask the other man what he meant...but, again, the questions were silenced before they even began. Hotohori gathered him into his arms and bent forward, pressed his lips very, very lightly against Nuriko's own, brushed a thin, silken strand of violet hair away from the younger seishi's face.

And...it was real. Hotohori's life energy flickered within him, and the touch of the other man's mind was real and warm against his own thoughts...he felt the young emperor's indecision, his sorrow, his determination, his contentment, his kindness, his understanding, his acceptance...his love.

//The rule of the sky.\\

He would take it with him. And, when this was all over, he WOULD return...to Hotohori...to this gentle man who had somehow, impossibly, come to love him.

He would come back. And he knew Hotohori would be waiting.

 

~ ~ ~

They returned to the dock together, neither providing explanation or acknowledgment to any of the questioning stares they received from their companions. Nuriko moved with a dreamy kind of preoccupation glistening in the soft violet of his eyes, a quiet, comfortable warmth filling him with the kind of contentment he'd only ever dreamed of.

Hotohori loved him. Even if it was just for this moment...even if he stepped off onto this ship and never saw Hotohori again...it would be all right... A smile twisted his lips upwards. It would be all right...because he was loved.

The tingle of the young emperor's kiss still blazed on his lips, left him feeling airy and light-headed...and, inside of him... Nuriko placed a slim hand over his heart, closed his eyes briefly as the others busied themselves around him. Hotohori's chi burned within him, like a strong arm around his shoulders. He could feel the added strength swirling through his muscles, the strength and power and confidence which was Hotohori...but, also, the gentleness...the kindness...the nobility. He smiled. It had been worth it...all of it...all the suffering, all the pain, all the years he'd spent trapped in an identity which was not his own, confined in dresses he could never shed...bent beneath the weight of a life he could never fully live. It had all been worth it...just for this moment.

Because he was loved.

He just couldn't repeat the thought enough...it confused him to no end, left him frowning and puzzled...but almost unendurably happy. Somehow, somewhere, the impossible had happened...he knew he shouldn't question it, that it was something he should drop to his knees and thank Suzaku for and think nothing more about...but the wonderings still swirled in his mind, left him more confused and puzzled than ever. How had it happened? WHY? What had happened to change Hotohori's mind so suddenly? Had HE done something? Had Miaka?

//Sometimes...things just change. There are no explanations. Maybe this is one of those times.\\ He grinned tightly, relieving Mitsukake of a tall stack of bags and tossing them effortlessly onto the waiting boat. //Baka. Stop asking dumb questions. It's happening. Does it matter why??\\

He smiled. The warmth stayed with him as he boarded the boat, stayed with him as the waters parted for their departure...stayed with him as he watched Hotohori raise a silent hand in farewell, gazing after them with wide, glistening amber eyes.

By the time he noticed the tears streaming silently down the young emperor's cheeks, it was too late to do anything but stare.

---

It had been nearly a week since their departure from Konan.

Shivering, Nuriko tugged the blanket more tightly around his body, shifted so he pressed gently against Miaka's warm, sleeping body. It had been difficult enough to find an inn willing to give them a room--finding one ready to offer them three beds had been an impossibility. He smiled, briefly, remembering the initial argument over who would sleep with whom, that dark, scarlet blush creeping into the cheeks of both of his companions...his smile softened, turned bittersweet.

/I found myself in love with Miaka as a man...\

Nuriko turned in the bed, lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Beside him, Miaka murmured in her sleep, stretched out a hand as if reaching for something...he smirked. //Probably dreaming about food.\\

He glanced at her from the side of his vision, the thick reddish-brown masses of her hair hanging in soft tufts about her face, her eyes lightly closed and shadowed, her mouth slightly open, making way for soft, sleeping breaths... He smiled. He DID love her. Her smiles, her laughter, that childish buoyancy...it was all so REAL, so comfortable and perfect...

/Today, I really felt like devoting my entire life to protecting Miaka...\

The smile slowly fading, Nuriko lifted an arm, stared for a moment at the soft, glistening silver of Taiitsu-kun's bracelets. He remembered that flash of power...that wash of crimson and fire that swept over him like a wave, gave him power, gave him strength...it was because of these bracelets that Miaka and Tamahome were alive...because of these bracelets that this quiet, comfortable moment was even allowed to exist.

//If I hadn't...if I hadn't come along...Miaka and Tamahome would be dead.\\

The thought sent a shiver through his body, made him retreat back beneath the covers, snuggle closer to the sleeping girl beside him. And, not just then...in the water... He'd saved Miaka again, this morning, when that...that THING attacked her. The blood in his veins ran cold. That...that monster. It was...strange...but, he felt as if it wasn't the first time they'd met, as if...as if, somehow, somewhere, he'd faced off against the monster before...it was because of that familiarity, in fact, that he'd been able to break free of the debilitating fear and the icy slash of pain, to concentrate on forming his thoughts...on grabbing the flare and firing it into the beast's face...

He frowned, slightly, a ghost of the pain of those claws ripping through the wound on his shoulder, making him wince. He could've been killed today...but, he hadn't even thought about it at the time. Gods...it hadn't even crossed his mind. All he'd known was that Miaka was in danger...he had to save Miaka...and, so he'd leaped in front of her, taken the blow meant for her...

But, gods...he could've been killed. They both could have.

Nuriko slid closer to the sleeping girl, let his arm fall over her waist, carefully pulled her sleeping form closer to him. "Miaka," he whispered. "I swear. I'll protect you. No matter what happens, no matter what I have to do...I'll protect you. For the rest of my life, if you let me."

Miaka shifted in her sleep, snuggled closer to him. "Nuriko," she murmured sleepily, eyes still lightly closed, face soothed and relaxed in sleep. "Warm..."

He stared at her for a long moment, those innocent, childish features, that slim frame, that thick dark hair...he thought about the things he'd felt for Hotohori, the tingle he'd felt ripple through his body as the young emperor's arms slid around his waist, the warmth of those soft lips against his own, the indescribable joy at finding himself finally, finally loved...and, then he knew. He paused, let his head rest gently against the pillow, closed his eyes as he thought. He DID love Miaka...of that, he was certain. He loved her very much, was filled with the intense, unbreaking need to protect her, to watch over her no matter what he had to do...but... He smiled, softly. Yes. That was it. That was...that was it.

//I couldn't protect Kourin...but...Miaka. I can protect you. I WILL protect you...no matter what I have to do...because I love you, Miaka. As I loved Kourin. So, I won't let you fail. I won't let you lose.\\

//Not ever.\\

Smiling softly, Nuriko pulled the blanket to his chin, carefully removed his arm from around Miaka's waist, and pressed his cheek against the pillow. Soon, he was breathing softly, slowly, feeling the darkness of sleep creeping towards him...ready to spirit him away...

And, then, suddenly, that familiar agony ripped into him, made him sit up straight in the bed, gasping and in pain. Gods...gods...it was happening again...why? Why?? No...it didn't matter...no! He'd been through it twice before...he could survive it...he could withstand it...because, he had to protect Miaka...he had to survive so he could return to Hotohori...he had to get through it! And, so...so. Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Nuriko crawled from the bed, moved to the center of the floor, and sank to his knees. He sat there for a long moment, one hand clasped tightly over the side of his chest, pressing tightly against the source of his pain, and gazed up at the far window, just stared and suffered and struggled...and, it was all right.

The moonlight shone a soft, speckled silver through the glass, soothed the lines of agony from his features, made him calmer...made it easier... He drew another deep breath, let it out with some effort. The pain...aggh, it hurt...it hurt so much...it ripped into him like those creature's claws, jabbed through his chest, rippled outwards like fire...his skin was ablaze, and his mind...it swirled in confused, darkening circles, made it difficult to hold onto a single thought, to do anything more than just sit, clutch at his ribs, and breathe...breathe... Oh, gods, why did he have to suffer through this? Why couldn't he just...just lay back, let the darkness take him, not have to suffer anymore...agh, it would be SO much easier...just succumb to the pain, succumb to the madness tearing into his skull...just lie back...sleep...die...end the pain...be with Kourin...

//NO!\\ He sat up straight again, the sign of the willow gleaming a fiery crimson on his chest, and tensed his muscles, fought against the pain. //NO. For Miaka...for Tamahome...I have to survive. I have to get through this...I CAN get through this...because I have to watch over her. I have to stay...for Miaka...for Kourin...for them all...I have to stay so I can protect them...so they can be happy...so *I* can be happy.\\

With that thought...the pain abruptly winked out, left him cold and shocked and gasping on the floor. Just like that...the pain was gone. Shivering and more confused than ever, Nuriko rose silently to his feet, stood there staring out the window for a long moment, the adrenaline still racing through his veins, his fingers and arms and legs shaking so badly that he nearly jabbed himself in the eye trying to brush a piece of hair back from his face.

He heard the rustle of blankets, the sound of movement from nearby. "Nuriko?"

He didn't bother to turn, merely stood there, thin arms folded lightly over his chest, staring out the window at the silver, snow-flecked moonlight. "Hai, Miaka?"

The girl rose sleepily onto her elbow, stared out at him with squinting eyes. "What're you doing?"

Nuriko turned, gazed down at this girl he loved so dearly...this girl who was like the sister he'd lost...this girl he would protect until the moment he died, if necessary...yes. All he'd needed...all this time...that redemption...it was coming to him, at last, coming to him through this girl. Kourin had died because of him...but, Miaka would not. Miaka would live. Miaka would definitely, definitely live.

No matter what he had to do to make sure she did.

The moonlight flashed a soothing silver on his thick, cropped violet hair, smoothed a wash of silk over his features, and he smiled, very gently, very softly, slender arms still folded before him. "Just watching the moonlight," he replied quietly. His eyes gleamed a bright, glittering violet in the silvery light.

Miaka seemed to digest that for a moment. "Oh," she said at last, lying back down in the bed. There was silence for a moment, then he heard the shift of blankets, the sound of Miaka rising, again, to stare out at him. "Nuriko..."

"Hai?"

Pause. "Do you think...everything will work out...for Tamahome and me, I mean?"

He nodded, silently, and moved back to the bed, sat down lightly at the edge. "Yeah...it will. Wanna know why?"

Miaka nodded, gazing up at him with wide, anxious eyes. Nuriko rose again, moved so he knelt beside her. Then, carefully, he reached up and latched onto one of her small hands, held onto it tightly for a long moment. "Things will work out for you and Tamahome, Miaka...because of the rule of the sky."

She frowned. "The rule...of the sky?"

He nodded, smiling, and gazed up at her, let her see his certainty, let her hear it in his voice. "Hai. Hotohori-sama once told me that he believes that all things are under the rule of the sky. When someone is born or wounded or dies...it's because that was what was meant to be--that was what was dictated by the sky." He tilted his head to one side, shrugged slightly. "When two people fall in love...it's the same thing. You and Tamahome found each other because you were meant to...and you'll stay together because of the same reason. That's the rule of the sky."

Miaka's eyes were wide and glittering, lips slightly parted as she considered the words. "So...you mean...Tamahome and I will...we will..."

"You'll be together, Miaka. Forever."

"But...but, what if something happens to one of us? If...if one of us...if one of us dies..."

"It doesn't matter. Even if one of you...dies...it'll still only be a matter of time before you're together again...because..." He paused, struggling for the right words...then, abruptly, they came to him, and he smiled. "Because no one can defeat destiny. Not even Nakago."

With the mention of the blond shogun, Miaka lay back onto the bed, closed her eyes softly. "Yui-chan," she murmured. "Nuriko...does that mean...does that mean that Yui-chan was destined to join up with Nakago?" Her eyes were wide, panicked. "That...that Tamahome's family..."

He held her hand tightly between both of his own, squeezed it reassuringly. "Miaka...shh. It's all right...it's all right. You should sleep...we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow." He smirked. "Move over, willya? It's too cold to sleep on the floor..."

Miaka's eyes widened, and she slid over to the other side of the bed, pushed away the covers to make room for him. "Oh...gomen, Nuriko..."

It was only after he settled in beneath the covers, pressed his cheek against the pillow, and tugged the blankets to his chin that he realized with a bit of embarrassment that he was still holding onto Miaka's hand, that, because of that, she now lay very close to him... He released her fingers, flushing, and waited for her to slide away, offering a brief, "Gomen ne," as he did so...but, she didn't move.

"Nuriko?" she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Arrigato."

"Ne, for what?"

Miaka smiled, slid her arms around him, and hugged him tightly from behind. "Just...arrigato." Then, she released him, turned over, and had soon fallen into a thick, deep sleep. After long moments of listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing, Nuriko closed his eyes and he, too, was soon asleep.

Then the morning rose, cool and clear, and roused him from the warm darkness. The smile still touched his lips.

~ ~ ~

He busied himself the only way he knew how...he governed, entertained important guests, spoke casually with his advisors, even visited his harem and spoke a few words with the women there... Yet, even so...even as he moved from day to day, listening to the difficulties of his people, struggling to settle the affairs of his nation...still, his mind was far away...and, his heart. It was in Hokkan country, with Miaka...Nuriko...his friends, his seishi...the people he loved.

It was...strange. He'd expected the knowledge to leave him, for the memories of the dream, of Nuriko's approaching death, to vanish as they had the first time, but somehow, he still remembered...somehow...it was all still there. Every now and again he would feel some ghost of an emotion, know it was Nuriko's--yesterday, for example, he'd suddenly felt a jab of pain slice into his shoulder, had suddenly FELT Nuriko within him...and, then, abruptly, the sensation vanished...as did the warmth of the other seishi's presence within him.

Nuriko was still alive, at least for now...but, how long would it be? How much longer? It was...it was torture...yet, even as he suffered through the horrible anticipation, the heartrending certainty of the other man's approaching death...he couldn't bring himself to wish that it would just HAPPEN so he could get on with his life. No. He could live forever with this knowledge, with this agony, if it meant that Nuriko could live for a little while longer...if it meant that somewhere, somehow, the violet-haired seishi still existed...still breathed, lived, laughed...

Gods. It wasn't fair. He was an emperor! He could've simply ordered Nuriko to stay...in fact, he could've just ASKED him to, and the other seishi most likely would have. He could've spent the last week lying comfortably beside the person he loved, warm and safe and at peace, rather than sitting here waiting agonizingly for the moment when he knew that Nuriko just wasn't there anymore...damn it! Why had he let him go?? Why hadn't he fought it, warned him, done something--anything!--to stop him...to save him...gods. Why had he let him go?

Irritated and guilt-ridden, Hotohori rose from his chair, crossed to the door, and fled the room, leaving his three advisors gaping after him, half-hearted protests lying unspoken on their tongues. He moved without thought or purpose, knowing only that there was somewhere he needed to be...somewhere he needed to go to, to escape to... His heavy imperial robes fluttered impressively around him as he moved, and his hair, jarred free of its bun from the jolts of his steps, slipped down over his shoulders, trickled down his back... He barely noticed, though, just kept moving...kept running...he had to...he had to get somewhere...there was...there was somewhere he had to go...

He came to an unsteady halt as he passed a familiar doorway, paused and stared...Nuriko's room... On impulse, Hotohori turned, walked to the door, and pushed it gently open, took a long step inside. The room was spotless and immaculate as always, the soft fragrance of lilacs and some other gentle, flowery scent clinging to the air, making the grief explode within him...because, if what he knew was going to happen...if it happened...then, Nuriko would never again step into this room. He would never again lie in that bed or draw clothing out from that closet or walk barefoot across this floor...

Tears welling thickly in his eyes and throat, Hotohori fell to his knees in the middle of the floor, clutched at the edge of the bed for support...gods, what had he done?

"I should've stopped him," he whispered, pressing his free hand against his face, pushing back the sudden burst of tears. This was so unlike him...to get so emotional...but, the depth of his pain, the depth of his guilt...it was too much. Gods, it was too much. He'd killed Nuriko. It was his fault...HIS fault. If he'd only warned him...if he'd just...if he'd just SAID something...

"H...Heika-sama?" It was a soft, hesitant voice from the doorway, light and uncertain...but achingly familiar.

Hotohori turned, the tears still dripping softly from his dark eyelashes, and stared up at the figure standing shadowed in the doorway...he felt the blood in his veins run cold, and a deep ripple of shock run its way through his body. He rose to his feet, stumbled briefly, grabbed tightly onto the bedpost to keep from falling...and STARED.

That hair...a soft, flowing violet, twisted and braided and lying in ribboned waves over slim shoulders...that slim, pale face...the slender, silk-clad body... "Nuriko," he whispered...but, as soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true...knew that the person who stood before him was NOT Nuriko, was someone else...someone...someone who looked more like the violet-haired seishi than any mortal being had any right to.

That was when he noticed it--the mole. That tiny speck of brown, just beneath Nuriko's left eye...it wasn't there. This person--this woman...her cheek was smooth, unmarked...and her eyes, now that he looked at them, were a bright, glittering blue... Clearing his throat and brushing away the remnants of the tears on his cheeks, Hotohori smoothed his robes, straightened so he could look on this girl as an emperor...not a weeping shell of a man. "I'm...I'm sorry," he managed in a formal tone, bowing his head slightly to the beautiful young woman...even as his heart ached...gods, she looked so much like him... "I'm sorry," he repeated. "You look a great deal like someone I know."

The woman inclined her head slightly, smiled softly at him. "Lady Kourin," she supplied. "Or..." Her lips twisted upwards. "Nuriko, as you know him." She blushed, then, seemed to realize abruptly that she was speaking to the EMPEROR...and lowered her eyes, gazed at the floor. "I apologize, Heika-sama. I didn't mean to intrude on you... Nuriko asked me to keep his flowers alive until he returned...I didn't realize you were in here, or I'd never have come in..."

He shook his head, waved a brief hand at the girl. "It's quite all right..." He trailed off, studied the girl closely for a long moment...

The young woman bowed her head, respectfully. "I am Houki, Heika-sama."

"Houki," he echoed quietly. "I see. And, you and...you and Nuriko...you are..."

"Friends. Hai."

A thought struck him then, and he paused, frowned. "But...you know that...that Nuriko--"

Houki smiled. "Is a man? Hai. We've been friends...almost since he first came to the palace, your highness. We spent a lot of time together. It was only a matter of time before...well...before I noticed."

He tried to imagine that for a moment, to picture the two of them spending their time together, laughing and smiling...being friends, sharing secrets...and felt that familiar ache return to his heart, ripple outwards until he wondered how he was even able to stay standing... He risked a glance at the young woman, saw that she was frowning at him with a touch of concern...and pulled himself together, took a small step back. "Please, don't let me keep you from your duties," he managed, ushering the girl in with the wave of a hand. "Nuriko would be...upset if his flowers all died because of me."

The girl's eyes glittered for a moment. "He wouldn't, Hotohori-sama." Suddenly, she blushed, dropped to the floor and bowed her head low. "Oh, gomen nasai, Heika-sama...I didn't mean to be so presumptuous...to call you by your shichiseishi name...please, forgive me. It's just that he calls you that, and I...I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking..."

"Houki...it's all right. Honestly." He bent down, gripped lightly onto her arm, and helped her climb back to her feet. He smiled, briefly. "You don't need to be afraid of me. The emperor, after all, is just a man...like any other man."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of you...Heika-sama...but, I don't want to offend you." She blushed, briefly, looked away. "I should water the flowers."

Hotohori nodded. He watched her, then, as she moved...noticed that she and Nuriko possessed much the same subtle grace, the same soft, gentle beauty...it felt...strange. He was standing in Nuriko's room, watching this woman who looked SO MUCH like Nuriko bending slightly over the pot of exotic flowers in the corner, tilting the watering can with a loving kind of grace... He closed his eyes, leaned against the wall as if for support. It was...wrong...but...he found himself inexplicably drawn to this woman, to her soft, tentative voice, her smooth, graceful movements, her charm...perhaps even her beauty. But...he knew that this attraction was eternally intertwined with the love he felt for Nuriko himself...that without her connection to him--both physically and mentally--she would be just as she had been for the past four or five years...just another harem girl.

Yet, with Nuriko... He took a few strides forward so he stood just behind her, watched as the girl finished her watering, placed the can gently down on the table... He drew in a deep breath. "Houki," he said quietly. "Would you...join me for dinner this evening?"

She turned, eyes wide with surprise. "Dinner? With me?"

He nodded. "Hai. Of course...if you've already got plans..."

"No," she interjected quickly, staring at him with wide, startled blue eyes. "No. I'll...gladly join you for dinner."

"Good. Come to my chambers at seven."

"Hai...I will."

Hotohori turned, then, moved towards the door...and stopped as that soft voice echoed in his ears, made him pause.

"Heika-sama?"

"Hai?"

Houki studied him for a moment, the silken folds of her dress hanging lightly from her slim shoulders, slender hands clasped tightly together over her lap. "Heika...if you don't mind me asking...what were you doing in Nuriko's room?"

It struck into him, then, the reality of what was going to happen...of why he'd been in this room in the first place...his tears...Nuriko. He felt his face paling, his fingers beginning to tremble. Hurriedly, he shoved his hands into the folds of his robes, took another step so he stood on the other side of the door, safe in a warm well of sunshine on the palace walkway. "I was...just making sure that everything was in order." He offered a thin, weak smile. "Nuriko dislikes disorder." Wincing inwardly at his own painful half-truths, Hotohori took another step, nodded briefly to the young woman. "Goodbye. I'll see you at seven."

He felt her eyes on him as he moved, felt those bright blue depths boring into his back, drawing the truth from his words... "You miss him," she called suddenly. "Don't you?"

He froze. A moment later, he heard the swish of silken skirts, the weight of the young woman's presence just behind him. "It's all right, Heika-sama," she murmured in that same soft voice, smiling. "Nuriko loves you. I wasn't sure you knew...until just now." Her smile softened. "And, you love him, too."

His shoulders slumped. "I suppose I do."

~ ~ ~

The air was crisp and cold and fresh, biting into his lungs, searing over his flesh, making him feel awake and alert and alive. It was exhiliarating, speeding over the snow like this, the horse's hooves thudding rhythmically beneath him...but, it was strange, also. Because...somewhere, deep within, something told him that this wasn't the first time he'd done this...but that this time was most certainly going to be the last.

It would've been frightening...had he not been so preoccupied with other things. Miaka. Tamahome. Hotohori. Kourin. The faces of the people he loved danced before his eyes, drowned out the soft hiss of the blowing snow and the harsh, blinding glare of the morning sunlight against the snow. After this day, he knew...things would never be the same again. Of course, it wasn't difficult to figure out why that would be--Miaka would get the shinzaho, call Suzaku, and...and, then she would either go back to her world...or, stay here.

Gods, he prayed she would stay.

He gasped, briefly, as the horse abruptly bucked beneath him, nearly sent him flying from the saddle and into a large snow drift...he clutched the reins, however, and had soon managed to soothe the animal and keep himself firmly atop the creature's back. It wasn't until he glanced down that he realized just what the problem was.

Nuriko sighed. The snow was too deep, the side of the mountain to sheer...like it or not, he was going to have to walk. His gaze flickered down to the small, thin-soled shoes enwrapping his feet...oh, this was not going to be pleasant at all. But...there was no other way...and no point in complaining. Gritting his teeth and allowing himself one long moment to steel himself against the coming cold, the violet-haired seishi swung his leg over the side of the horse, gave a slight leap, and a moment later had landed firmly on the ground. He sunk swiftly to his thighs, shivered once, and set to the task of climbing the mountain.

The good news was that the depth of the snow gave him enough traction to make the steep mountain face an easy climb...the bad news was that it was, to coin one of Tasuki's phrases, @(#*&$@#$ cold.

He smiled, just slightly...because, it was all right. He was a Suzaku shichiseishi...and, every step he took, he took for his Miko. Every shiver, every bite of painful cold, every chill sweep of the wind...it was all for her. The smile lifted. And Tamahome.

---

"Heika-sama? Are...are you all right?"

Hotohori glanced up from his chair, wrapped the six layers of blankets more tightly around his inexplicably-shivering body. "I-I'm f-fine," he managed, squeezing his eyes closed as a massive shiver worked its way through his body. "J-just...cold."

His advisor smiled slightly. "One would think you had gone to Hokkan country with the rest of the seishi. I would imagine they are experiencing a bit more of the cold where they are than here in Konan, Heika."

Hotohori felt his face pale. "Hokkan," he whispered. "Yes...of course. But...but, if I'm feeling it this strongly, then...then..." He trailed off, then rose to his feet, shoving the blankets from his body and barely noticing as they fell heavily to the floor. "How long would it take for a messenger to reach Mount Taikyoku?"

The advisor's eyebrows raised at the commanding, imperial tone of the young emperor's voice. He sputtered for words for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "I...I would have no way of knowing, your highness...only the shichiseishi are permitted to visit Taiitsu-kun's mountain..."

Hotohori let out a frustrated breath of air, pressed the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. "Shimatta," he swore softly. "I'd forgotten." Abruptly, his eyes snapped back to the advisor, stared at the man almost urgently. "I must speak with Taiitsu-kun," he stated firmly. "You are my advisor. Advise me."

Again, the wide-eyed stare. "Well...we could...we could send a messenger first thing tomorrow, if you yourself could provide exact directions, of course...and, then perhaps...with the proper amount of shouting--"

"No, no." The young emperor frowned, sat down hard in his chair. "No. It cannot wait. I must speak with her NOW. Something of...of immense importance is about to happen...and, I may still be able to stop it. But, I MUST speak with Taiitsu-kun IMMEDIATELY!"

"Heika, I'm afraid that will be impossible. You know how elusive this...sorceress is, after all. Often she isn't even AT Mount Taikyoku...finding her is difficult...but, finding her immediately? It could prove impossible--even for an emperor."

Hotohori sighed, shivering again as a frigid wind seemed to pass over his flesh. "It's all right," he murmured, returning to his desk and bending over it. He reached into the drawer, grabbed out a quill and piece of parchment. "It...may not be quite so urgent as I--"

He broke off.


No.



No.



No...please. Please...no...no.



No.

He stumbled, was forced to latch onto the edge of the desk for support.

"Heika-sama!" the advisor exclaimed worriedly. "Are you all right?"

And, Hotohori could only stare at him, eyes wide and pained, that horrible, terrible agony ripping through him...that hideous certainty lancing through his brain. The certainty was, perhaps, even more terrible than the pain itself...because, there was no denying it now. No hoping, no praying, no fervent last-ditch attempts to contact Taiitsu-kun and somehow find a way to make things right again.

There was no going back now. It had begun...and soon...it would end.

"Nuriko," he whispered brokenly.

---

The pain was...unimaginable.

It sliced through his chest, radiated outwards until every muscle, every nerve ending, every tendon...until everything exploded with pain and agony and anguish...until he could barely find the strength to draw a breath against the pain...until every muscle went limp...and he hung.

His legs dangled down below him...his arms hung lifelessly from his sides...and his head lolled backwards. The skies were a shifting sea of sapphire and ivory above him, the wind a chill, frozen tingle against his hot, feverish flesh. For what felt like an eternity...Nuriko lie in helpless limbo, not dead, not alive, not able to form a thought or a word or an emotion...knowing only the pain, only the strange, suffocating warmth seeping into his lungs...only the certainty.

He was going to die.

He felt strangely...all right with that fact. Of course, he'd been ready to die since the moment he watched Kourin fall lifelessly to the ground...he'd prayed for it for a long time, in fact, and had very nearly succeeded in shoving the Ryuen in him away until it nearly WAS like death. But, now...it didn't quite seem fair, to leave now. Now, when he'd finally begun living for himself again. Now, when he'd finally found people he loved, people he could turn to, people he could lean on...now, when he'd finally found the strength he'd been searching for all these years. Now, when life was WORTH living. It wasn't fair...but, still...still, it was all right.

//The rule of the sky...\\


Fulfillment of destiny. Yes. This was his destiny...what could he do but accept it? Time seemed to stretch out before him, boundless and eternal...and, he caught a glimpse of crimson, far in the distance...and warmth. Suzaku's warmth? Perhaps...perhaps...he felt warm...at peace. It would be all right...he would slip off, drift away...be with Kourin, as he'd dreamed of for so long...yes. A slight smile played on his lips. It was all right to die, to be with Kourin...that was what he'd wanted all along, wasn't it? What he'd prayed for? What he'd fought for? To...to be with the one he loved...but...but, he loved...

Abruptly, reality snapped back into place. He felt the monster shifting beneath him. A low, hissing growl was working from its fanged mouth, filling the silent, snowy plateau wtih an eerie harmony of wind and beast. Why wasn't it moving? Why was it just standing there, holding him up here...was it...was it waiting for him to die? Or, was it just savoring the moment?

And, then it hit him. It was midthought, like a flash of lightning in a clear sky--one moment, he was hopelessly afraid and in pain and unable to move, praying for death to come swiftly...and the next...it all came flooding back.

He almost smiled. Yes...he'd...he'd been here before...he'd DONE this before...many times, in fact! He'd dealt with this pain already--dealt with it and conquered it! He remembered...that second time, in the gardens...he'd come back to Hotohori-sama's soft pleadings...he'd decided that living might not be such a bad thing after all...and, look what had come of that! He'd spent the night enfolded in the warm, sweet embrace of the one he'd dreamed of for so long, safe and protected and contented beyond imagining. And then later...last night...gods. Had it just been last night, just a few hours ago, that he'd felt this pain? It felt like an eternity...

He shook his head slightly, forced himself to focus. Yes. Last night...last night, in the inn...he'd felt it again there, had nearly succumbed to it...but, had decided not to...for Miaka. For Tamahome. For Hotohori. For Kourin. Yes...yes. He'd done it for them--he'd survived for them, because they needed him. They needed him to drag that damn rock out of the way and let them get to the shinzaho.

Because without it...Miaka and Tamahome would never be happy...they'd never be together.

And, hey, the pain wasn't that bad, was it? No...he'd been through this pain before! He'd suffered through it, triumphed over it! It wasn't so bad. No. No, it wasn't bad at all. Because, they were with him. He could feel them, burning within him, surrounded by the fiery halo of Suzaku's warm embrace...yes. They were there. Tamahome. Chichiri. Chiriko. Mitsukake. Tasuki. Hotohori. Miaka. They were all within him, fueling him onwards...granting him the strength he needed--no. The strength that had been there all along.

Gritting his teeth, Nuriko spun, clutched onto the face of the monster, ripped himself free of the claws and threw his legs over his head. A moment later, he stood firmly on the shifting fields of snow, his slim arms wrapped tightly around the beast's head, twisting and pulling with a strength he'd never realized lie waiting within him. And, he knew, now...that there was nothing that could stop him from reaching his goal at this moment. Not blood, not death, not the claws of this monster.

Nothing. Because, he was a Suzaku shichiseishi...he was Nuriko.

And, even if he'd lived his entire life as someone else...for now, at least, he was himself.

He would die as Nuriko...as he should've lived.

He would...die.

~ ~ ~

He could scarcely breathe.

Something icy and painful jabbed at his chest, ripped violently through his muscles, set every nerve ending aflame with a hot, fiery agony. His breath came in short, harsh gasps, and his vision...it was blurry, speckled with conflicting flashes of light and darkness. Was this...death?

No. He shook his head, pressing his forehead tightly against the sweaty, sticky palm of his hand, struggling vainly against the sudden agonizing wash of sensation. No. It may be death...but his, it was not. There was no denying it, no refuting it...no praying for it to somehow be a mistake. This was Nuriko's death he was feeling. Yet, even as he latched onto the realization that the pain he was feeling was not his own...he couldn't find the will to make it stop.

But, perhaps that was because he didn't want it to stop. Because if it did...then, that meant that Nuriko was dead.

Hotohori felt a sudden wash of anguish, clawing at his heart until it was hard to breathe. Because...it was all his fault, wasn't it?

//I did this to you, Nuriko. I did this... If I'd just told you...or, if I'd found Taiitsu-kun sooner...or if I'd come along...gods. Gods, I could've saved you. I could've...saved you.\\

Still trembling from pain and guilt and terrible, terrible certainty, Hotohori crawled unsteadily to his feet, held tightly onto the desk as if for support. His advisor still stood just before him, frowning, thick eyebrows furrowed together in worry. The man opened his mouth to speak--

"It's...all right," Hotohori managed, stumbling around the edge of the desk, moving towards the door. "I'm...feeling a bit ill. I'm going to my chambers, to rest... I do NOT want to be bothered."

The advisor could only nod, lips slightly parted as if to say something, and watch as the young emperor staggered out onto the palace walkway. And, he wasn't sure...but, he thought he heard the soft gasps of the emperor's sobs as he moved towards his chambers...but, the man quickly put the thought out of his mind. Granted, Heika-sama was acting a bit strangely...but, crying? Saihitei?

No. Couldn't be.

---

She'd been strolling over the palace grounds, pondering her earlier conversation with the emperor...when, suddenly, she became aware of the sound of scuffling feet, and the low, muffled sound of...sobbing? Houki paused in her walk, clutching the bouquet of lilies reflexively to her chest, and tilted her head slightly to the side...listened... The sound was most definitely getting closer. Puzzled but curious, the young woman gathered her skirts together with one slim hand and hurried behind a nearby bush, ducked low so whoever was approaching wouldn't see her. Then, satisfied with her hiding place, she rose carefully upwards and peered through a break in the leaves, waiting, watching...and hoping no one would spot her here before she had a chance to catch a glimpse of whoever it was who was making such a racket...

The thud of the running footsteps abruptly seemed very close...and then, suddenly, she saw a flash of reddish-orange robes and a flood of wild, flowing chestnut hair...startled, she rose to her feet, stared openly at the fleeing, sobbing young emperor...but, he didn't even glance in her direction. One slim hand was pressed firmly over his mouth, struggling vainly to muffle his sobs, and his eyes were half-closed and flooded with tears--she watched, eyes wide and shocked, as he skirted the next corner, thudded onward towards his private chambers.

Houki stood there for a long moment, staring blankly at the corner around which Hotohori had vanished, lilies dangling loosely from her fingers. What in all of the Four Kingdoms could have the power to make the emperor sob like that?? She'd heard, of course, that Hotohori was quite enamored with Suzaku no Miko...could something have happened to her? She frowned, though, her thoughts coming full circle.

But...this afternoon...they'd spoken, and he'd seemed to be completely in love with, not Miaka, but--

The strength bled out of her muscles. As her fingers unclenched, the neat bouquet of lilies tumbled lifelessly to the ground, fluttered from side to side for a long moment...then, lay still.

"Oh, no," she whispered. A light sheen of tears glistened in her eyes, hung like a heavy weight at the back of her throat. "No...it can't..."

Fighting back the sobs clenching in her throat, Houki threw down the last of the flowers, grabbed up her skirts, and charged across the lawn. A moment later, she'd mounted the stairs in a few deft leaps, was sprinting down the palace walkway as no well-bred lady ever would. But, she didn't care. She ran, the uncomfortable points of her heeled shoes digging savagely into her feet, cutting ugly red welts deep into her flesh...but, she barely noticed them. She saw only the soft yellow light of Hotohori's chamber window, the image of that smooth, handsome face twisted in anguish...

It couldn't be...him. No. No, it couldn't...it was silly. Even if something HAD happened...how would the emperor know of it already?? How could...how could ANYONE know... It couldn't be true. She must...must be mistaken...yes. Mistaken. She was just jumping to conclusions...like she always did. Yes...that was it.

But...if that was true...then, why wouldn't the tears go away?

Finally, out of breath and nearly choking on the weight of the sobs welling in her throat, the violet-haired woman reached the familiar, intricately-engraved outer doors, came to a sudden, jarring halt. She frowned slightly as she stretched out a hand towards the door. These were the emperor's personal chambers...there was always at least ONE guard stationed out here...usually more. Had Hotohori sent them away?

Shaking her head against the thought, Houki grabbed tightly onto the door handle and--despite the fact that such an action could easily get her severely disciplined or perhaps even thrown out of the harem--wrapped her fingers more firmly around the slim bar, tensed the muscles in her arm...and tugged it open. She nearly trembled at her own brazenness, barging into the emperor's private chambers unannounced and uninvited. Yes. She could definitely be punished for this...

But, somehow...she knew she wouldn't be. Hotohori was a kind man... Hearing the young emperor's heartbreaking sobs echoing from the inner chambers, Houki clutched a slim hand to her heart, closed her eyes and tried to force back her own tears. She had to be strong for Heika-sama...because, if what she feared had happened...if the source of the emperor's grief was the loss of...of someone very close to both of them... Then, she would have more than enough tears to spill later, in the quiet solace of her own chambers.

But, for now... She drew in a deep breath, straightened her twisted skirts, and began to walk towards the inner door. For now...she would just have to be strong. Because, Hotohori was certainly in no state to be strong himself.

Realizing only dimly that she was shaking rather badly, the young woman again stretched out that slim hand, and again performed the near-traitorous action of stepping unannounced into the presence of the emperor of Konan. This time, however...she wouldn't waste time worrying of the possible consequences, even fleetingly. Now was the time to do her best for the man who was her emperor...because that was her duty, wasn't it? Yes...her duty as a citizen of Konan, her duty as a member of the Imperial Harem...and her duty as Nuriko's friend. Yes. The last most of all.

Carefully, Houki took a long step into the inner chambers...and let her eyes gradually become accustomed to the dimness of the room.

When her vision cleared, she was able to glance around...but, only briefly. The room was just as she'd always suspected--sparse, well-decorated, scattered with various meaningless pieces of art or sculpture...but there, lying on his stomach on the bed, curled up into a tight, almost-childish ball...was the young emperor himself. His handsome face was pressed tightly against the soft solace of a large white pillow, his long chestnut hair scattered in wild, tangled waves over his face, shoulders, and back. The sobs themselves had faded into low, harsh moans and gasps, yet Houki found herself thinking that these quiet, mournful sounds were even more heartbreaking than even the sobs had been. Perhaps because now Hotohori seemed to be calming...and, calming meant dealing with the pain. Calming meant accepting things for what they were...and learning, slowly, to live with them.

Gods, she hoped she was wrong!

Steeling herself against what was to come, Houki slipped silently forward so she stood just beside the bed, not wanting to announce her presence so suddenly but knowing there was little other choice. "Heika-sama," she said softly.

At first, Hotohori didn't seem to hear her...but slowly, as she repeated the name gently over and over, he seemed to break from his grief, return to reality... And then, suddenly, his head snapped up from the pillow, and he stared out at her through the thin mist of the canopy bed's sheer curtain, eyes wide and bloodshot, lips dry and cracked from the salt of the tears. At first, she was sure he was going to mistake her for Nuriko again, immediately cursed herself for looking so painfully similar to the young seishi...but, luckily, Hotohori recognized her almost immediately, spoke her name clearly through the fog of his grief.

"Houki."

She bowed her head slightly, moved nearer and slid aside the bed curtain. Her fingers trembled as she moved--after all, this wasn't at ALL proper...first of all, she was a woman, in the emperor's BED chambers, uninvited...and second of all, here she was, slipping aside the curtain to the bed itself! Gods, she wouldn't be surprised if they set her up for execution for this...

But, now was now...and this was no time to be worrying about herself. Bowing her head again as a show of apology and respect, the young woman knelt on the floor beside the bed, stared up at Hotohori with wide, compassionate blue eyes. "Heika-sama," she said softly. She paused, debated...then let out a soft breath. "Hotohori-sama. I'm...sorry for coming in here, especially without knocking first, but..." She flushed slightly, and her words came in a sudden, violent rush. "But, I saw you running past and I saw you were crying and I needed to find out what had happened because--" Her words broke off almost unintentionally, and she gazed down at the ground, fought against another light sheen of tears. "Because, I'm...I'm very afraid of what's happened...Heika. So, please. Tell me. Tell me...what's making you cry like this. O...onegai."

Hotohori was silent, staring blankly at the slim lengths of his fingers, his eyes dark and faraway.

Houki felt herself begin to shake. "It's him...isn't it?" she whispered. "Somehow...you felt...you felt him..."

"Nuriko," the young emperor choked, shaking his head slightly as if to warn her. "N...Nuriko...dead..."

For one long, heavy moment...the world seemed to turn grey.

"No," she managed, her voice so low it was barely audible. "No...he...he can't be..."

But, the words were only a reflex, and she knew it...because she knew that what he said was true. She'd known it the moment she watched him run sobbing down the walkway...the moment the lilies fluttered to a slow halt at her feet...the moment she felt the tears welling in her eyes and the sobs waiting heavily in her throat. She'd known. But, even with the knowledge, even with it now confirmed...it still didn't feel right.

Or fair.

Something happened, then, although she could never remember afterwards just what it was. One moment, she was kneeling weakly on the floor and Hotohori was sniffling quietly on the bed...and the next, they were both sitting on the soft, plush carpeting, holding onto each other and crying, shaking and trembling and...grieving. His face was pressed against her shoulder, his tears staining the soft blue silk of her dress, his sobs rising, muffled and ragged, to her ears...joining with her own. Those long, imperial fingers clutched tightly at her sleeves, held onto her so tightly that she occasionally had trouble drawing enough breath to fuel the harsh, moaning sobs slipping from her lips.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she gradually felt herself calming...noticed he, too, was returning to that tearless solace...but, after a few moments, she realized that the young emperor was saying something, that he was repeating one soft, low phrase over and over again, the words rising from the very depths of his misery. Pausing briefly to wipe at her wet, running nose, Houki leaned closer to the seishi, strained to hear through the layers of hair and silk and flesh.

When she finally, finally managed to press her ear close enough to his lips to hear...she sat back with a small gasp, startled and horrified.

"All my fault," Hotohori was murmuring, over and over. "All...my fault."

Houki could only hug him closer, rocking him gently as if he were a child...and hold him as the young emperor drifted slowly off into a thick, exhausted sleep. When the dreams came, as she'd known they would...she was there to soothe him, comfort him, draw him back into the reaches of normal sleep. Somehow, she managed to drag him up onto the bed, although where the burst of strength came from, she had no idea, and there he slept fitfully for many hours, well through the rest of the day and even through the night.

And still, Houki stayed.

At one point, Hotohori sat straight up in the bed, not quite awake but not quite asleep either, and stared out at her with wide, shocked eyes. "Nuriko," he called sternly. "Nuriko...what are you doing? Come here..." Hotohori fell softly back to the mattress, stretched out a slim, trembling hand. "Onegai," he whispered, eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "Come here...come back."

So, she came. Heart breaking with every soft repetition of the name that wasn't hers, tears streaming silently down her cheeks, Houki climbed into the bed and lay beside her emperor. He slung his arm over her waist, mumbled something incoherent, then slipped off into a soft, pleasant sleep. Despite all that had plagued him over the past few hours...he didn't seem to dream anymore, merely lay there and hugged her close, a strange, contented smile touching his lips, his grieving features at last soothed and peaceful in sleep.

Once, she tried to leave, to slip beneath that tight embrace and recover to a more respectable area of the room...but, Hotohori stirred immediately, and whispered, "Please don't leave," so plaintively that she couldn't bear to move...so she stayed. For the rest of the night and through most of the next morning...she stayed.

//Let him have his fantasy...at least for tonight. It'll all end...soon enough.\\

Houki still lay quietly in his arms the next morning when Hotohori awoke.

~ ~ ~

 

Even now, when he looked at her...he couldn't help but remember the grinning seishi with her face, the cheerful young man with her flowing violet hair, her slim frame, her subtle strength. He'd loved Nuriko--of that he was sure. But...

Hotohori smiled softly, glancing back at the warm glow of his chamber window. Breathing deeply of the fragrant night air, he leaned his elbows against the banister of the palace walkway, gazed out over the flowing expanse of lawn beneath him, the emerald grasses bathed in the soft shadow of the night. The moonlight made everything softer, gentler...more beautiful. He turned again to the window, felt his smile lift.

She really was beautiful. But, then, she had his face...his soft, startling good looks...so, of course, she was beautiful. The smile faded slightly, turned wistful. Why was it he always realized these things too late? Why hadn't he known he loved Nuriko while he was HERE? And, once he realized it...why had he just let him go? Why hadn't he done something? Even if it hadn't worked...even if it had only caused more trouble, made things more difficult...at least, he would've have the satisfaction of knowing he'd TRIED...

He sighed again, lifted his pale face to the sky...and craned his neck, picked out the thin sliver of stars which he knew formed Nuriko's constallation. "Nuriko," he murmured. He prayed to Nuriko often, during the long stretches of the night...and sometimes during the day...and sometimes just whenever he was feeling less than himself. It was a comforting ritual, and one he found himself repeating more and more often these days, as the war with Kutou escalated...as the marching troops grew ever closer to the safe haven of Konan. "Nuriko," he repeated, closing his eyes lightly, folding his hands together in front of him. He sighed, bent his head slightly. "I don't know what to do with her...with Houki. I can't...I can't figure out whether I love her for you...or for herself. Nuriko...if you're out there...onegai...help me."

---

It was like awakening from a deep, dark sleep. One moment, he was lying peacefully, comfortably...and the next, the light of the morning was gleaming in his eyes, rousing him, drawing him up out of the darkness. Frowning slightly and reflexively pressing an arm over his eyes, Nuriko awoke. At first, he was confused, unsure as to where he was or what was going on...but then, gradually, he became aware of a soft red glow surrounding him, of a warmth unlike any he'd ever experienced in life... The thought trailed off, then, and he felt a familiar pang.

Right. He was...dead.

[Nuriko...]

Someone was...calling him. That voice...

He sat up, opened his eyes...and found himself immersed in a world of thick, flowing darkness, except for one low, pulsing splotch of crimson in the distance, rising like a glowing ember out of the blackness. A warmth began to fill his heart, then, washing over him like a soft wave of light and strength and hope...yes. Suzaku was calling him...calling him back...

[Nuriko...]

Eyes fixed solidly on the glowing splash of red light, Nuriko rose to his feet, and--as he moved--realized vaguely that the cloths adorning his body seemed to keep changing, shifting... Momentarily confused, he paused, glanced down at himself. First, he saw himself in a tunic of soft yellow and green, felt his hair tugging itself into a firm bun atop his head...then, something changed...the clothing shifted into a silken skirt of pink and yellow...his hair hung free... What was going on?

[You have lived as many people in your life, Nuriko,] came the gentle echoes of Suzaku's voice in his ears. [These are the embodiments of those personalities...these clothes.]

The gown he'd worn for his acceptance into the harem...the flowing skirts he'd donned the day he pulled Tamahome and Miaka out of that rubble...the conservative yellow and orange dress he'd worn on the journey to Taiitsu-kun's... He watched the progression in silence, holding out his arms as if to test the reality of the moment...and watched as his hair plaited itself into a thick braid over his shoulder, as a loose, form-fitting tunic of dark red encircled his chest and waist, as pants of the same color streaked down his legs...yes...this was better...this was closer to how he was meant to be, closer to the him he'd discovered only after Miaka entered his life, after Hotohori began to speak with him like a human being...gods. What was Suzaku trying to tell him??

[I am trying to tell you this, Nuriko. You have been Chou Ryuen. You have been Chou Kourin.]

A rush of air washed over him, swept his long hair violently upwards...he felt the braid unfolding itself, the hair disconnecting, floating away into oblivion. The soft, pastel colors of the last outfit faded, and a thick blue fabric began to weave itself over his flesh, circle his arms, wrap over his chest...yes...this was right...this was how it was meant to be... Thin streams of gold thread weaved themselves up and down the tunic, drew it together...his legs were soon wrapped in silken, loose-fitting cloth of pale pink, his slim, pale feet adorned in small black shoes...yes. The thin circles of metal around his wrists began to glow, and a moment later he felt them expanding over his forearms, driving that familiar, welcome strength deeply into his soul...yes. He stood strongly before the warming light of Suzaku, thick violet hair hanging short and cropped above his shoulders, the soft blue and gold of his tunic draping down over his thin form, arms folded lightly over his chest.

Suzaku seemed to be smiling.

[But until the moment you learned to love Suzaku no Miko...until the moment you learned to love the young emperor, Saihitei...until the moment you learned to love this man who stands before me now...you were never who you were meant to be. You were never Nuriko until those moments...never strong, never complete, never worthy of ascending to this moment until then.]

Nuriko shook his head slightly in wonder, gazed into the glowing depths of the crimson light. "But, Suzaku...why--"

[Because,] the god interrupted gently, [now is the time for your reward.]

He felt his brow furrowing. "My reward?" he echoed quietly.

[Saihitei was correct, Nuriko. It was the rule of the sky that brought you together...just as the rule of the sky brought together Suzaku no Miko and the shichiseishi Tamahome.]

Nuriko felt an unexpected rush of anger flood over him, felt his fists clenching. "But, why?" he demanded suddenly. "If we could never be together...if I was just going to die...then, why bring us together??"

There was no hesitation. [Destiny.]

Nuriko frowned. "Destiny?"

[Yes. You experienced the pain of your death beforehand so you would be strong enough to overcome it...and Saihitei...Hotohori...he needed you to enter his life at that moment, Nuriko, so he would be able to fulfill his own destiny. He was in misery, planning to never take an empress because of his love for Suzaku no Miko...but, you changed all that, Nuriko. He was able to let you into his heart...and because of that, he was able to let another in.]

Nuriko felt his eyes widen, and a rush of inexplicable knowledge swept over him. "Houki," he whispered.

[Yes. Houki. Your friend. It was because of her comforting touch that Hotohori was able to overcome the grief of your loss...and because of her that he now has an empress, now will be able to produce an heir.]

He knew he should feel jealous...that the girl with his face had taken the one he loved...but...for some reason...he felt nothing but the gentle warmth of Suzaku's light around him, the soft contentment at knowing Hotohori was happy...yes. Yes. Hotohori was happy. He could feel it deep within him, feel it as if the other man were speaking the words into his ear. Hotohori was happy.

[Yes, Nuriko...he is happy. And, it is all because of you. Because you entered his life, he gained all this...and the ability to be happy. He will need that...if he is to face the challenges that lie ahead.]

"The challenges..." He trailed off, closed his eyes as a sudden flash of memory seeped back into his mind. "Hotohori...is going to die," he whispered. "Soon."

[Yes. But, before he does...he will produce an heir...and will have the memories of his happiness within him. He will die at peace...because he was able to live with that contentment within him. It is the same contentment you yourself experienced, Nuriko, at the time of your sacrifice. Which brings us, again, to the subject of your reward.]

"My...reward," he echoed cautiously. "What...what is it?"

Once again, he felt the unmistakable sensation of Suzaku smiling.

[You will go back.]

His mouth dropped open.

[Don't mistake me, Nuriko--you will not live again, and you will not be able to stay for long...but, there is something waiting for you there...something you have the right to experience. So, you will go back...and there draw the conclusion of your destiny.]

Nuriko could only stand there, staring numbly into the light, as the words sunk into his mind. Going back. He was...going back.

"Hotohori-sama," he whispered.

Then, the warmth of the crismon light overtook him...and he felt himself being swept away.

He was going back.

~ ~ ~

Houki sat silently before the intricate, silver-embossed frame of the mirror, gazing into the cool glass with a slight, worried frown tugging at her lips. She wrapped slim arms around herself briefly, tugged the new, silken lengths of her sleeping robes closer to her body. She was nervous...very nervous. Tonight...gods. What was expected of her... Heika-sama needed an heir...and she had to oblige. Even if every moment felt like a betrayal.

"Nuriko," she murmured softly, lowering her head and feeling, again, the hot sting of tears pressing at her eyelids. "Nuriko...gomen. Gomen. I didn't want it to happen like this...I...I'm so sorry."

Something rustled behind her, but she didn't turn. It was him, of course...her emperor...the man she'd married just this afternoon...the man she found, suddenly, that she couldn't face.

"Houki."

The breath froze in her lungs. Not daring to raise her head, she squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, tried to focus on the sudden, impossible thoughts swirling through her mind, on the soft echoes of the voice in her ears. Now that she gave herself a moment to think, she realized that it was suddenly very warm in the room, that the cool wash of night wind, while still rushing in from the far window, now held a touch of heat to it...but it was a subdued heat...a gentle heat. Like the light...the soft, gentle light she could see even through the darkness of her eyelids, radiating from somewhere behind her...from near the doorway. There was a whisper of movement from behind her, then, and the unmistakable sound of soft-soled shoes pressing into the luxurious velvet of the carpeting, drawing nearer to her...coming up just behind her...

Cool, gentle fingers swept against her face, her cheek, brushed lightly at the thin trickle of tears streaking down through her eyelashes. It was a ghost of a touch...light, airy, like a feather whispering over her skin...but, she could feel it. She could feel...him.

"Houki," Nuriko said softly. "Why don't you look at me?"

She was silent for a long moment, choking on the weight of the tears in her throat, struggling against the ache clawing at her heart. "Because," she managed at last. "If I look...you might not really be there..."

Nuriko laughed softly, and she felt those arms wrap gently around her shoulders, pull her close. "I'm here," he said, and she could hear the smile through his words. His voice was lower than the last time she'd heard it, making him sound more like a man, less like the beautiful young harem girl she'd met all those years ago...more like Nuriko than Lady Kourin.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Houki opened her eyes.

Slowly, carefully, she lifted her head, let her eyelashes send the last of the tears trickling down her cheeks...and gazed into the mirror. And...he was there. He stood just behind her, smiling, his hands now pressing lightly against his hips, the soft violet of his hair cropped and short, hanging in thick ribbons just over his shoulders. Covering his slim body was a high-collared blue tunic, embroidered with various ribbons of soft, shining gold...and, those glittering bracelets hung lightly from his wrists, sparkled in the lamplight.

She couldn't speak...but, that was all right. She didn't need to.

Houki leaped to her feet, spun, and had soon wrapped her arms around the ghostly form behind her. It was...a strange sensation. He was there, just in front of her...but, he wasn't quite solid, wasn't quite real. It was like trying to hold onto sand...her fingers kept slipping through, sliding away...but, for now, she didn't care. She held onto Nuriko as tightly as she could, felt the ghostly touch of his arms wrapping around her, as well.

"Nuriko," she breathed, crying openly now, letting the tears stream over her cheeks. They dripped from her chin in tiny, sparkling rivulets, streaked straight through Nuriko and fell with minute splashes to the floor. "Nuriko...how...why..."

The violet-haired seishi lifted her gently from where she'd been pressing against his chest, stared directly into her eyes. "Suzaku," he explained softly, a whisper of awe seeping into his voice. "He...brought me here. I can't stay for long...but..." He smiled slightly, took her hands between his own. "But, I'm here now, Houki. And, I...I need your help."

She was just opening her mouth to ask what he could possibly need from her, why Suzaku would send him here, now of all times, and to her of all people...when, abruptly, she knew. The knowledge was suddenly there, in her mind, and she knew it was true with a certainty such as she'd never experienced before.

She smiled, squeezed the ghostly fingers against her own. "Nuriko," she said, smiling through the tears. "Do it. Now, before he comes back."

Nuriko blinked in surprise. "But...but, Houki...you don't..."

"I don't mind," she said softly. "You deserve it. You're my friend...and, Heika-sama...Hotohori...he loves you. You both deserve this. Go on," she prompted, those thin, painted lips twisting upwards once more. "Do it, Nuriko. Do it."

He stared at her for a few breathless seconds, looking awed and shocked and happy all at the same time...then, finally, he nodded, pulled her close and held onto her tightly for a long moment. "Arrigato, Houki," he whispered. "Arrigato."

And, then a cool white light consumed them both...and, Houki drifted into the darkness, felt the warmth of Nuriko's spirit invading her body, seeping into her mind, her heart...her soul. He was even more beautiful than she'd imagined.

---

When he entered the room...something was different. Houki was sitting silently on the edge of the bed, smiling out at him with those warm, sparkling blue eyes, clad in a shimmering nightgown of soft blue satin. The gown hung loosely from her slim shoulders, outlined the soft, subtle curves of her chest and hips, swept lightly against her pale, bare ankles. As he approached, she stretched out a hand, clasped his fingers gently between her own.

"Hotohori-sama," she said softly. That smile still touched at her lips, that odd, tilted, familiar smile...gods, she was beautiful.

He sat beside her on the bed, their fingers still lightly intertwined, and reached up a hand, brushed a strand of silken violet hair from her eyes. The room was dimly-lit by a soft well of golden lamplight, and the young emperor noticed, as he gazed at her, that the light reflected oddly in Houki's eyes, cast a strange, violet hue over the usual cool, bright blue. "Houki," he murmured, smiling slightly. "My empress..."

The young woman pressed her cheek more firmly against his hand, held it there with slim, trembling fingers. Her eyes were lightly closed, but he could see a brim of tears welling beneath the thick, dark eyelashes, hear a slight thickness to her breathing...as if she were holding back sobs...

"Houki...," he said tentatively, confused. "Houki, you're...you're crying...are you all right?"

There was a long pause. Houki drew in a long, shuddering breath, let out a soft sob of air before clearing her throat, wiping the few tears from her cheeks. "Hai," she said at last, nodding, her cheek smooth and cool beneath his fingers. "Hai, Hotohori-sama. I'm all right." Her eyes slid open, a dark, glittering violet in the lamplight, and she smiled. "Finally...finally...I'm all right."

---

Several hours later, Hotohori lay smiling and contented beneath a mass of silken blankets, the warm, slim body of his empress held tightly in his arms. A silvery wash of moonlight crept in from the window, cast a marble-like sheen over her pale skin. Smiling softly, the young emperor raised himself up onto an elbow, traced a gentle finger down the curve of her cheek. It was smooth, soft--perfect and unmarred...except for a tiny, darkened spot, just beneath her left eye. He stared at it for a moment, letting his fingertip brush lightly over the slight, darkened rise. It was funny, but he'd never noticed it there before, not in all of their time together...not until just now, as he saw her lying there in the moonlight. He wondered, briefly, why such a small detail suddenly seemed so important...but, then, he frowned, pressed his finger lightly against the mole as if testing to see if it was really there. It seemed doubly strange that something like this would escape his notice, now that he thought of it...because, after all, this was exactly where Nuriko had--

He stopped.

The breath seemed caught in his lungs, and for a long moment, he couldn't move or think or even find the will to draw the air in through his nostrils. Finally, though, he sat up straight in the bed, stared down at the sleeping form beside him with wide, shocked eyes. The color of her eyes...the mole...and...and...

//Hotohori-sama,\\ he remebered suddenly. //She called me...she called me 'Hotohori-sama...'\\

The slim form beside him shifted, and he heard the soft flow of her breathing change, slide thickly from between parted lips. "Hotohori?" she asked softly. Her voice was lower than he remembered it, huskier...gods. Gods, it...it couldn't be...! "Daijobu?"

He stared down at her, unable to move or speak. At last, he forced the air back through his lungs, drew a short, labored breath. "Is it...is it you?" he whispered.

Nuriko rolled onto his back, gazed up at him with wide, smiling violet eyes. "Of course, Hotohori-sama," he answered softly. The smile lifted, and his eyes grew softer, gentler. "Who else would it be?"

His eyes widened, and a chill shot up his spine, made him shiver. "D...demo...!"

Nuriko rose to a sitting position in the bed, tugging a mass of blankets with him, and slid forward, wrapped slim arms around Hotohori's shoulders. "The rule of the sky," he whispered. The tears were heavy in his voice, and a moment later, Hotohori could feel the cool drops stinging against his skin, rolling down the bare, tanned skin of his back. "The rule of the sky...Hotohori-sama. For us...and, for our...our son."

~ ~ ~

Hotohori felt his eyes widening, all the breath draining from his lungs. "O-O-Our..."

"Our son," Nuriko repeated. The tears were evident in his voice...but, so was the smile. "That's what this was all for, ne? He'll go on, Hotohori-sama...even though we don't. He'll...he'll go on."

The young emperor placed his hands on Nuriko's slim shoulders, tugged him up from the embrace so he could stare into those soft violet eyes, feel the reality and the solidity of that familiar, soft-featured face. He lifted a hand...brushed his fingers over the cool, smooth cheek, let them tangle in the silken strands of thick, dark violet hair...let his thumb sweep away the last of Nuriko's tears. He'd planned on saying more, on asking all the hundreds of questions burning in his mind--where was Houki, how was this possible, how long could Nuriko stay, how did he know about their son, why had he been allowed to do this, why had he left in the first place, why had he died...why couldn't he have gotten himself injured with Mitsukake's healing powers closer, why...why...why. But, he pushed back all the questions, pushed back the soft frown creeping over his features...and realized, with a suddenness that startled him...that he was sitting here, in his bed, with Nuriko in his arms.

He was sitting here. In bed. With Nuriko in his arms.

Abruptly, a light mist of tears sprang to his eyes, trickled out over the wall of his eyelashes. "You're really here," he whispered. "You're really...you're really here with me..."

Nuriko nodded, stretching up those slim, feminine fingers, cradling the young emperor's cheek within them. "Hai," he replied in the same low, gentle whisper. "You told me to come back, ne, Hotohori-sama? I did."

There was a slight pause. Nuriko's hand was warm on his cheek, pulsing with warmth and blood and life...but, the rest of his body was consumed in a terrible, rippling chill, making him shiver...making him wrap his arms around himself and struggle for warmth. He shuddered near-violently, abruptly very aware of the icy wash of air streaking in through the far window, of the thin blankets lying in an unused pool at his feet...of the sudden chill to his skin, the tiny, cold-inspired bumps springing up over the skin of his arms and shoulders.

Nuriko's hand tensed over his cheek, and the eighteen-year-old raised a slim eyebrow, studied him for a moment. "Hotohori-sama?" he asked quietly. "Hotohori...daijobu?"


Hotohori nodded, reaching to the end of the bed to grab up a handful of blankets, tug them close to his shivering body. "I-I'm all right," he managed, hugging the soft fabric close to his chest, wrapping it around his shoulders. "J-Just...just cold."

Nuriko blinked at him. "Cold?"

Frowning, the young emperor leaned gently down onto the mattress, wrapped the blankets more tightly around his body and tugged his knees to his chest. "Yes," he answered softly after a moment, the confusion trickling into his voice, making his words quieter, more uncertain. "It...it feels almost like..." He rose up onto an elbow, let his cheek rest against his palm. "Like what I felt when you...died. That same chill...that same...that same kind of pain." He shook his head slightly, frowned again. "But, it's not like it was, then. It's not as intense..." He shook his head against the words, suddenly realizing that he was squandering what might be his last moments with Nuriko...gods, why couldn't he just stay here forever? Why couldn't he freeze this moment in time, live forever with the warmth of the blankets around him and the soft alto of Nuriko's voice echoing in his ears? Why did he have to move on, go forward?

Why did Nuriko have to leave??

Hotohori pushed away the chill, rose up into a sitting position on the bed. He tugged the blankets with him, but barely noticed them...saw only the gentle slope of Nuriko's jaw, the thick, moonlit wash of his hair, the soft worry flickering like shadows in his eyes. Abruptly, he sprang forward, grabbed the beautiful man into his arms and hugged him close. Nuriko let out a sharp, startled breath at first, his muscles tensed and stiff...but, he relaxed into the embrace quickly, melted into Hotohori's strong arms and rested his head on that smooth, broad chest.

His face buried in a silken wash of violet hair, Hotohori drew in a soft, fragrant breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils. "How long can you stay?" he asked quietly.

The head just beneath his chin shook gently back and forth, and Nuriko let out a quick, warm breath against his skin. "I don't know," he replied, wrapping his arms more tightly around the young emperor's chest, burying his face against a patch of smooth, bronzed skin. "Maybe just until morning."

Carefully, gently, Hotohori wrapped his fingers over Nuriko's shoulders, lifted the man from the embrace...and gazed into those soft, rosy violet eyes. He leaned forward, very slowly, and let his lips touch gently against Nuriko's own, let his fingers tangle into that soft, silken hair...let his eyes drift lightly closed.

"Then, we'd better make tonight count," he murmured.

Nuriko said nothing, melting again into the warmth of his embrace, his lips warm and sweet and solid, his breath a gentle, whispering exhalation against Hotohori's warming skin. As the young emperor tugged the smaller man closer, let the fervor of the kiss increase, he felt the icy chill melt from his body, drift away...leave nothing but Nuriko and tonight and the reassuring solidity of the body in his arms.

He didn't think about the eventual farewell...or about what he was going to say to Houki once she returned. No. Now wasn't the time to think about such things...or to even consider them. He wasn't the emperor tonight, with the weight of the nation on his shouders, with the constant need to look ahead, examine the repercussions, make educated, enlightened choices...no. This wasn't about thought...this was about warmth, and strength...and love.

"Love you," he murmured.

Nuriko only nodded, smiling softly from beneath a tangled mass of blankets. "I know," he replied softly. His smile lifted, then, and Nuriko closed his eyes, let out a soft, brief laugh. "Baka," he whispered. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

Hotohori shook his head. "I'm sorry..."

Nuriko's reply was short, a quick, narrow huff of air against his skin. "Don't be. Don't be sorry." He smiled. "Just be quiet. Be quiet and kiss me again."

Smiling softly, Hotohori obliged. The night stretched out before them and into oblivion...and time did, indeed, seem to stand still.

~ ~ ~

The soft flickers of morning sunlight flitted in through the transparent sheen circling his bed, tickled over his eyes, warmed the smooth, cool skin of his face. He felt wonderful. His body was warm and relaxed, his muscles at last freed from the tension they'd been harboring for months...maybe years...maybe his entire life. There was a soft, warm body beside him...and a peace encircling his mind such as he'd never felt before. It was almost as if...as if somehow, no matter what happened...everything was going to be all right. It was a comforting sensation, like being held close to a parent's chest, having hair smoothed back from your forehead...listening to soft murmurs of reassurance and love.

Suzaku? Hm. Perhaps...

Drawing in a long, cool breath of the morning air, Hotohori stretched his arms out above his head, rose carefully to a sitting position...and let his eyes flutter open. The first thing he noticed was the way the sheets clumped at his waist, the way his legs stretched loosely out before him...and, then the slimmer, paler legs beside his...the body beside him. Drawing in a quick, gasping breath, he turned, leaned over the still, sleeping figure with wide, panicked eyes...no...no...for Nuriko to have gone while he was sleeping, to have left before he could say goodbye...no!

Before he had a chance to really get a good look, however, the slim form twisted onto its back, and soft, violet eyes flickered open, gazed up at him. A gentle smile trickled onto those lips...and it was only then that he noticed the dark imprint of the mole on Nuriko's left cheek, the familiar, tilted smile...

"Nuriko," he breathed, nearly collapsing in relief. A moment later, he'd thrown himself down onto that slim, smooth-skinned body, was hugging the other man tightly to him, burying his face in a wash of that soft, silken violet hair. "Nuriko...you're still here...you're..." His voice broke. "You're still here."

Still trapped in the warm, enwrapping strength of the young emperor's embrace, Nuriko nodded slightly, his lips bending into a soft, peaceful smile. "Hai," he whispered. "I'm still here." The smile faded a bit, took on a soft touch of sorrow. "Demo...I have to leave soon, Hotohori. You know that."

Hotohori hugged him more tightly, managed a nod. "Hai. I...I know."

"Ne, Hotohori-sama?"

"Hai?"

Nuriko pulled himself gently up from the young emperor's embrace, let his fingers rest on those broad, muscled shoulders. His eyes were bright and clear, flooded with the golden warmth of the morning sunlight...sparkling like tiny jewels. He smiled. "Boushin," he said softly.

Hotohori gazed him for a moment, uncomprehending. "What?"

The violet-haired seishi offered another soft, rising smile. "Name him Boushin, Hotohori-sama. It was...a name Kourin always said she wanted to use for her own children, but..." He trailed off softly, offered another wide, bright smile. "Name him Boushin," he repeated softly.

The young emperor paused, tilted his head slightly to the side. "Boushin," he murmured, sampling the sounds on his tongue. He said it once more, more slowly...then smiled. "Hai," he concluded. "It's a good name. Boushin."

Nuriko grinned. "Naaaa, of course! My family has excellent taste in just about everything." He leaned forward gently, planted a soft, whispering kiss on Hotohori's lips. "Especially in men."

Hotohori let out a soft, smiling sigh, tugged the slim body to his chest and hugged Nuriko close. "You'll wait for me," he whispered, "won't you?"

"Hai, of course. We'll all wait for you, Hotohori-sama."

Frowning, Hotohori lifted Nuriko from his arms, gazed at him in surprise...and a touch of despair. No... Nuriko's pale skin was glowing a soft white, radiating gently in the streaming sunlight...and as he watched, those sparkling violet eyes dulled to a crisp blue--the mole faded into a smooth cheek...but, returned, an instant later...only to fade out again, come back...gods... He was...he was going to leave, wasn't he?

"Nuriko," he managed through a sudden wash of tears, clinging to those slim shoulders, pressing his cheek against the warmth of Nuriko's face, clutching onto the young seishi's body so tightly that he wondered if he wasn't hurting him. But...but, gods...he was leaving him... Again...AGAIN...he was leaving him! "Nuriko, no," he whispered. "Please. Not now. Not...not yet."

Nuriko smiled softly, sorrowfully. "Gomen...Hotohori. But, I have to go. Suzaku's calling me back..." He wrapped his arms more tightly around the young emperor's broad chest, pressed so close that Hotohori could hear his heart beating against his own, thudding in a gentle, peaceful rhythm in his ears...

"Hotohori," Nuriko said softly...and this time there was a new pain to his voice, a soft, tentative kind of sorrow. "Hotohori, what you felt last night...that chill...I thought you should know...it was Chiriko."

Hotohori felt his eyes widen, his muscles tense. "Ch...Chiriko?"

"Hai. He...he died last night, Hotohori."

"But...but, he was so young...!"

"Hai, I know. And, Hotohori...he won't be the last of the shichiseishi to die before this ends. But...Suzaku has faith in all of you, Hotohori-sama. And, he'll be waiting for you...just like I'll be waiting." He smiled, a soft, contented smile that burned into Hotohori's vision like one of those photographs Miaka'd brought from her world. His voice was a whisper. "See you soon...Saihitei."

And, then there was a flood of white light...and Nuriko was gone.

~ ~ ~

 

"Ne!  Baka!  WAKE UP!"

He snapped awake, sat up straight in the bed...and, of course, slammed his forehead directly into the bottom of the adjoining bunkbed. 

The eighteen-year-old let out a loud groan of pain, pressed a hand to his forehead and tried to ignore the other man's soft snickers.

"Not funny," he said angrily, straining to remain serious...but no matter how hard he tried, that laughter was so infectious...  Before he knew it, he was lying on his back on the bed, laughing loudly and rubbing at the bump forming on his forehead.

"Hai, hai," came the soft voice from above him.  "Not funny at all."  Suddenly, a long, slender violet braid slipped over the edge of the bunk bed, dangled down and nearly brushed against his face.  A moment later, the smooth, pale-skinned face followed it, a wide grin stretched over those thin, pink lips.  The older boy's smile widened.   "Nice bump," he commented wryly.

The younger man sat up straight in the bed, gasping at the words--and being very careful not to hit his head again as he did so. 

Hand still pressed tightly against his forehead, the eighteen-year-old sprang from the mattress and launched himself across the room, was soon hovering in front of the mirror.  Low squeaking noises rose unchecked from his throat, mingled with the soft laughter coming from the form still dangling over the edge of his bed. 

"Don't worry about it," Ryuen chided, grinning and rising back up onto the bunk.  A moment later, he was lying comfortably on his back on the mattress, slim hands pressed behind his head, violet eyes fixed on the ceiling.  "Ne, your hair'll cover it up, won't it?"
Saihitei let out a heavy sigh.  "Hai...but...but..."  He let out another high-pitched squeak, staring again at the rising lump on his forehead.  "But, it's so BIG!"

A sound from behind made him glance over his shoulder--he did so just in time to see Ryuen vault off the side of the bunkbed, land gracefully on a patch of faded blue carpeting.  "Don't worry about it," he repeated.  The boy took a moment to brush the wispy strands of violet hair from his face, patted lightly at the fabric of his dress shirt...then crossed the room, came up behind his mourning roommate.  Sighing again, Saihitei turned back to the thin oval of the mirror, touched gingerly at the bump, which was already fading to a dull, mottled purple.  As he stared dully at it, he felt slim, strong hands press against his shoulders, comfort him without words or motion.

Despite the trauma bulging from his forehead, he smiled, stretched up a hand to press over Ryuen's own.  For a long moment, they stood there in silence, warm fingers pressed against each other, eyes lightly closed as if savoring the moment...and, then, Saihitei broke off the touch, turned forward and gazed into the mirror again.  His lip curled in disgust.  "But, it's so ugly," he lamented.

The violet-haired boy took a short step forward, brushed at the strands of silken chestnut hanging in Saihitei's eyes.  "Good thing you're not," he countered softly.  Then, he leaned forward, brushed his lips very lightly against the younger man's own. 

Once the soft kiss had ended, Saihitei sighed melodramatically, glanced again into the mirror.  "Well, that's true...  But, Ryuen," he whined.  "Just LOOK at it.  It's all red and purple and--"

"Quiet," Ryuen said sharply, smiling.  "Stop whining.  It doesn't become you at all."

The younger man matched the smile, turned away from the mirror and gazed up at the vision of beauty and perfection standing just beside him.  He shook his head slightly in disbelief, felt his eyes widening, his lips turning into a slight, pleasant frown.  "I just don't understand it," he said softly.

Ryuen lowered himself down onto the edge of the chair, blinked at him for a moment.  "Ne, understand what?"

The chestnut-haired man shook his head gently, stretched up a slim-fingered hand...and brushed it lightly against the smooth, pale curve of Ryuen's cheek, the gentle slope of his jaw...the boyish jut of his chin.  "How I ever found you," he whispered.

Ryuen smiled softly, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man's neck.  "I wonder the same thing every day," he replied in the same soft murmur.  He leaned close, pressed the tip of his nose gently against Saihitei's own...and it was only then that the younger man noticed just how bright and startlingly-violet Ryuen's eyes were, just how much intelligence and love and devotion rested within them...

This man loves me,  he realized with a bit of a start.  He really...truly...loves me.

Ryuen slid gently forward, kissed him very lightly on the lips...and smiled.  "Of course, I love you," he whispered.  "I always have, Hotohori-sama.  I always will."

Saihitei felt his eyes go wide, the breath flood from his lips in a burst of shocked air.  "H...H...H..."

Ryuen stretched out a finger, pressed it lightly to his lips.  "Shh.  Don't panic, now."  The violet-haired boy leaned back slightly, offered him a soft, secretive smile.  "I was wondering how long it'd take you to remember."  He paused slightly, frowned a bit.  "So...do you remember?  Anything at all?"

The young emperor shook his head, blinking rapidly as if trying to get a grip on things.  "I...I remember..."  A thick frown creased at his forehead, and his face tilted downwards, eyes lightly closed as he strained to maintain his grip on the memories...and then, abruptly, a rush of light and sensation flooded over him, washed into his mind like a warm, crimson wave.  He sucked in a deep breath, stared out at the violet-haired eighteen-year-old with wide, clear eyes.  "Nuriko?" he whispered.

The young man nodded, that same smile still bending at his lips.  "Hai.  All right, you remember that much, at least...anything else, Hotohori-sama?"

"I...Konan...and...and, Houki...Miaka!" he exclaimed at last.  "Right...Miaka...  Suzaku.  And, we...we..."

Nuriko closed his eyes, leaned against the younger man's shoulder and smiled.  "Right," he said softly.  "We were both stupid enough to get ourselves killed."  The violet head lifted slightly, gazed up at him with wide, blinking eyes.  "Demo, you were a little stupider than I was, ne, Hotohori-sama?"  He let out a soft hiss of air through his teeth, nestled himself into the comfortable wedge of the young emperor's arm and rested his head there.  Instinctively, Hotohori raised his arm, wrapped it almost protectively around Nuriko's slim, feminine body.  Nuriko laughed softly, shook his head.  "Charging the shogun himself," he murmured.  "Not your most intelligent moment, Hotohori-sama."

Hotohori stared vacantly at the far wall, wrapped up in the sudden explosion of memories.  "Hai," he said softly.  "But, it was something I had to do."  Suddenly, he sat up a little straighter, glanced down at Nuriko with a frown tugging at his lips.  "What's happened to Konan?" he asked hurriedly.  "Houki...Boushin...the kingdom...Chichiri and Tasuki..."

Nuriko nestled more closely to his shoulder, wrapped his thin arms around the young emperor's broad, muscled chest.  "It's been eighteen years here," he said softly.  "Hundreds of years have passed in the book.  I don't know what's become of Konan, or Houki or...or Boushin." He smiled.  "But, I know this.  Before I...before I came here, Suzaku-sama told me that Boushin would do some amazing things in his life."

Hotohori smiled a bit wistfully, remembering the cute, teddy bear-hugging infant.  "Oh?" he murmured.

"Hai.  Suzaku mentioned something about uniting the countries, bringing pride to the gods, ending the era of war...bringing peace to the land."

The young emperor closed his eyes, felt a slim tear tug at his eyelashes, trickle over his cheek.  "Boushin," he whispered.  "OUR Boushin.  Good...  Good."

They sat in silence for a moment longer, Nuriko resting comfortably against Hotohori's broad chest, the younger man's warm, muscled arm surrounding his shoulders, pressing him close.  The violet-haired seishi let out a soft, muted sigh, hugged the younger man more tightly.  "Death wasn't so bad, was it, Hotohori-sama?"

"Iie.  It was like...waking from a beautiful dream."

"Hai.  A beautiful, eternal dream."

"I could see everyone I loved...everything I loved..."

"And, Suzaku..."

"Hai.  Suzaku."

"Ne, Hotohori-sama?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think death will be like that here, too?"

The dark-haired man wrapped his arms more tightly around those slim shoulders, hugged the other man close.  He let his cheek rest gently on the top of a wash of violet hair, let Nuriko's own cheek fit into the groove of his shoulder, fill him with a soft, pleasant warmth.  "Death can be whatever it wants to be," he said softly.  "As long as you're there with me, on that final journey...then, it'll be all right."

"Ne...I guess it will be.  Ne...Hotohori-sama?"

"Hm?"

"You're right."  He grinned.  "That bump is really, really ugly."

"Urgggh...do you have any concealer?"

"Pah, of course!  But, that's not gonna do it...here, I think I have some liquid foundation here..."

"Liquid??  I refuse to put anything slimy on my skin."

"It's not slimy...anyway, it stays on longer than powder..."

"Well, do you have any powder??"

"Iie...gomen.  I have liquid foundation, concealer stick...and some eyeshadow, but I have a feeling that's not going to help you much unless you want to make the bump green instead of purple..."

"Gaaaaaaah.  I don't care what you put on it, just fix it!  I can't go out in public looking like this!"

"Hai, hai, Hotohori-sama...hold still..."

"AAAH!  That's cold!"

"Naaaaaa.  Don't be such a baby."

"It's cold."

"Hai, hai.  Hold still."

"I am holding still."

"Don't make me get rough, Hotohori-sama...I will if I have to..."

"Sometimes, Nuriko, I wonder if you love me at all."

"Of course, I love you."

"Oh?"

"Hai.  If I didn't...gods know I'd never have waited this long to tell you how disgusting that thing looks bulging out of your forehead..."

"Does it really look that bad??  Should I skip classes for today??"

"Ne, just kidding.  Calm down."

"Nuriko?"

"Hm?"

"Do you ever wonder what might've happened, if things hadn't...changed between us when they did?"

"Do I ever wonder about it?  No, not really.  Why...do you?"

"Sometimes.  I suppose I just keep thinking...how empty my life would be without the person I love in it.  If I hadn't woken up when I did...if I hadn't found you there in the walkway...if I hadn't--"

"Shh.  Don't think about things like that.  What happened happened because it was meant to."

"You really believe that?"

"Hai.  The rule of the sky, a wise young emperor once told me."

"The rule of the sky..."

"Hai.  Mattaku, that emperor...he was gorgeous.  Of course, he didn't have a big lump on his forehead...but, aside from that, he looked a lot like you..."

"Quiet."

"Hm?  Why?"

"It's harder to kiss you when you're talking."

"Oh?  Oh...hehe.  All right, then, I'll shut-up."

"Thank you."

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

~ ~ ~

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
-Anonymous

~ ~ ~

 

 

~end.