Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Bedlam and Vertigo ❯ Vertigo ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Author's Notes: Finally, finally, finally, this story comes to an end. Thank you to all the readers who have stuck by me for the past decade (wow), and to the readers who started later. You guys are awesome and I'm eternally grateful for your support. Surely, you can see the (hopefully) growth and change in my writing style. I mean, I started this story when I was around fourteen or fifteen.
If I have time, I might rewrite the earlier chapters so that the writing style evens out. No promises, though.
Tasuki and Miaka were my first OTP, and definitely a treasured one. I'm still not sure whether or not I'll write another fic of them, but we'll see.
DISCLAIMER: Fushigi Yuugi and its characters are the property of Yuu Watase and other respective owners.

The leaves in the trees ruffled as a breeze brushed past them. It was the only noise from outside of the old-fashioned mental hospital.
Yuuki-san, the mother of her son, Keisuke, and her daughter, Miaka, stood on the curb of the drop off area, looking up at the building. That same breeze moved her blonde bangs out of place, but she paid it no heed. She couldn't help but peer through the windowed front doors in distant wonder.
Something tugged at her.
She sighed to herself. Again, she paid whatever forces were around her, explainable or not, no heed as she turned to open the car door behind her.
"Ma?" Keisuke asked from the driver's seat, watching as his and Miaka's mother hopped back into the passenger seat. He looked at her funny. "Why the random trip here before going back home? We have a party to plan!"
Yuuki-san laughed softly. "I just had this odd feeling..."
"Like a hunch? Okaasan sounds creepy..." Keisuke remarked, sighing nervously.
" I felt that I needed to see where Miaka had to volunteer."
"But it's not like you'll never see her again..." He smirked. "Miaka can take care of herself. She's twenty-one now! There's no need to watch over her so much anymore. I mean... look at me!
She smiled wanely. "That's exactly why," she joked.
"Did you want to see her or something?"
She shook her head, laughing a little. "She's not even on shift for volunteer work right now. She's in class. I figured that I would have embarrassed her if I did go in while she was working."
"Pfft, I guess," Keisuke said. He re-adjusted the rearview mirror, smiling in satisfaction when the angle was to his like. He turned his gaze from it to face front. "Let's go, Okaa-san!" he cheered determinedly. "We have a big day today!"
Unbeknownst to them, a man had exited the facility, a figure in orange running across the reflection of the rearview mirror for a fleeting instance.
"She must've gone to the palace, no da," Chichiri speculated as they ran through town, unfortunately, on the other side of where Miaka was. "She might've gone to Houki-sama for help."
Tasuki tsked. "And involve them? Typical Miaka t'not think shit through."
"Houki-sama's and Boushin-sama's subjects were involved," Chichiri pointed out sagely. "The ones who died, no da. If something is wrong with their empire, then they'll have to be involved, no da."
"I'm guessin' that's where I'm followin' ya to," Tasuki replied. He ran ahead of Chichiri, more desperate than ever to reach Miaka, but suddenly, he found himself slowing down as he spotted small trails and splashes of blood ahead.
"The hell..." he breathed, furrowing his brows in concern.
"Something happened at the palace, no da," Chichiri surmised gravely, noting the bodies of dead guards in the distance. Realizing something, his frown deepened. "Houki-sama and Boushin-sama!"
The two seishi sprinted forth.
"Iyaa, Tetsuya!" Yui shouted from the kitchen of the Yuuki's apartment. "The banner is crooked! You can't do anything right!"
Tetsuya gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at his girlfriend (hopefully soon to be fiancee, he corrected himself, as he thought about the ring waiting in a secret place back at their apartment). She had been at edge all day. He didn't really understand why she was so nitpicky when the "party" was really only going to be Miaka's family, Yui, Taka, and himself.
The dark-haired man, who decided not to wear his shades for the time being (Yui had complained about him not being able to see properly when doing the decorations), lazily began readjusting the birthday banner.
Then again, he realized, Yui had been like this ever since the whole ordeal with The Universe of the Four Gods was done with. He knew better than anyone that she still felt a lot of guilt over what happened, namely during the time she herself became a priestess. Yui had made the extra effort in the restored friendship between herself and Miaka, almost frenzily. It was like she was continuously repenting for the pain and danger she caused her best friend.
And this time, it was no different. Yui demanded perfection, and never took Miaka's acceptance as complete. To Yui, there was always so much room for improvement in their friendship; in her personal redemption.
But Tetsuya could live with that. It made Yui who she was, and one reason he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
When he finally got the banner straightened, he stepped down from the chair with a sigh and turned to her, his hands dramatically on his hips. "What's next?" he asked.
"Did you call Taka?" she asked, not looking up from whatever she was doing in the kitchen. "He's getting her, you know." Taka was supposed to pick her up from class and take her straight to the apartment for the surprise.
"Everything will go smoothly, Yui," he reassured her, but he honestly didn't know whether to think of her frantic antics as endearing or annoying. "You can stop worrying."
"I'll stop worrying when these cookies come out perfectly," she responded. "I will make sure Miaka has the best twenty-first birthday ever... even if it kills me."
The two then heard the sound of the doorknob jiggling. Startled, they turned toward it, watching as it twisted to one side.
The door suddenly swung open.
Behind it were Keisuke and his and Miaka's mother. Yuuki-san seemed somewhat lost in thought, not quite as merry as she usually would be for her daughter's birthday. Her son, however, was more-or-less like his usual self.
"Keisuke! Yuuki-san!" Yui greeted, relieved. "Just in time!"
The blond male snickered and shifted his gaze from the young woman to his best friend. "Is she panicking again?"
Yui leered at her beloved. "Don't answer that."
Tetsuya simply shrugged, and when her eyes turned elsewhere, to tend to the food, he winked affirmatively at Keisuke.
"Did Taka call yet?" Yuuki-san asked, looking down at her watch. "Miaka should be getting out of class soon."
"All of you are a bunch of worriers," Tetsuya sighed, and waved his hand at them in defeat. "Hai, hai, I'll call him now if it makes you guys feel better."
He made his way to the coffee table in the living room, where his phone sat. As he drew closer, his smile wavered a little; he had made a little discovery. "Hm..?" he grunted. "Hey, it looks like Taka left his phone here."
"What!" Yui cried indignantly. With that, she stalked off to the kitchen, grumbling about forgetful best friend's boyfriends.
Tetsuya merely chuckled, following after her to poke fun at her, even with her annoyed disposition.
Yuuki-san laughed softly to herself as they disappeared out of the room. "Yui-chan really puts her heart into doing things for Miaka..." she commented to Keisuke.
Her son smiled. "We all do, Ma."
Yuuki-san was about to reply, when suddenly, there was a firm knock on the door.
Keisuke glanced at the door. "Hm, must be him," he quipped casually. "Oi! Taka! It's open!" he hollered.
The door carefully swung open.
But it was not who he expected.
The wary look in the blond's eyes would soon turn to horror.
Miaka raced along the sparse marketplace, anxious energy pumping her heart. The few stubborn, unafraid merchants who decided to keep business open for the day pretended not to see her nor the man chasing after her with a knife; they kept their eyes averted from anything the did not directly concern them. They turned the other cheek; it was bystander effect.
Moreover, they did not want anything to do with the Priestess of Suzaku. It was an odd opposition to how people used to view her; she had been worshipped. People had been awestricken by her. But unfortunately, nothing right now was in her favor. She just seemed to have the worst luck in the world.
With emotions pushing her, both mentally and physically, Miaka grunted as she toppled over a crate full of oranges to trip Kurai behind her. The owner of the ruined goods didn't even flinch. In fact, he hid further into the shadows under his cloth roof.
Miaka craned her neck in time to see, to her relief, as Kurai stumbled over the first orange and felt into the rest of the scatter. He was clearly not amused. In fact, his anger for her seemed to grow as he hastily pulled himself to his feet.
Her effort was short-lived, however. Kurai's slowdown was only marginal; he was quick to get back to speed.
Miaka knocked over another display of items; this time, a stack of rolled-up rugs. Kurai, his one-track mind solely on catching her, fell for the trap, the tall rolls of rugs hitting him and momentarily distracting him.
To her dismay, she didn't spot a merchant who happened to have anything that could be used as a weapon. She was beginning to regret her last-minute plan of outrunning Kurai in the market district. It was a large open area except for the market spots themselves, and she wasn't going to find any good hiding spots or get into his blind spots.
She turned a corner, using the edge of the adjacent building to keep her balance as momentum swung her one way. She took another glance backward. He was still chasing her. Despair seeped into her system.
Why wouldn't he just give up? What made her so special to him that he had the utmost need to kill her? She didn't know who he was, she had never seen his face until this whole catastrophe started.
She had done community service at the local mental hospital before, but she didn't remember seeing him?she shouldn't have, if he had been kept in isolation. She mostly stayed in the lobby area, where many of the patients congregated.
So what was it?
Miaka repeated her former measures with other objects nearby, this time with watermelons and walnuts. It was a stale plan, but she needed to buy time in order to think of an alternative.
For the first time, she realized that she was alone. The reality hit her soundly, making her heart heavy with loneliness. If she couldn't think of anything, and if Suzaku couldn't save her, she might die here, with no one around.
Without warning, she felt something sharp dig painfully into her shoulder. She cried out, and when she tried feebly to reach for her wound, her clumsy legs made her trip. Miaka fell hard onto the ground, pain shooting up her arm and into her injured shoulder.
But before she could make another move, a shadow loomed over her.
No... she thought with dread.
Taka came out of the flower shop, and reached down into his pocket for his phone, only to find that it was empty. "Damn it," he murmured. He looked to his right, down a few blocks. The Yuuki's apartment building wasn't too far. Maybe he could stop by and get his phone before picking up Miaka.
"Yeah, I think I'll do that," he decided confidently to himself, and began the reasonably short walk. Besides, he was sure Yui was freaking out because he hasn't called all day.
Moreover, Miaka, as scatterbrained as she could be at times, probably forgot that he was supposed to pick her up. After all, she usually came home on her own, or met with Taka somewhere else via her own transportation?either walking or taking the bus.
Approximately fifteen minutes later, he sauntered into the apartment building. His heartrate started to increase.
He put a hand to his chest, mystified. "Strange," he murmured to himself. Why would he feel anxious? He didn't normally stress out over birthdays, not even his beloved's. He left that to Miaka's best friend.
Ignoring the urge to stop in his tracks, Taka rolled his eyes at himself and made his way to the elevators.
The hallway of the floor of Miaka's apartment felt narrower than usual, darker and oddly winding. In reality, it was a straight way to her place, but for some reason, he had a slight case of vertigo. Taka wasn't one to get tingling sensations when something momentous was about to happen, but he felt it then. It wasn't quite akin to this ability when he was Tamahome, but it was just as unpleasant.
No, he had to be overthinking things. Cold feet about a birthday surprise? How strange.
He twisted the doorknob, half-hoping it was already unlocked. It swung open easily. Taka entered, leaving the door ajar. "It's Taka! Don't mind me!" he called to Yui, Tetsuya, Keisuke, and his and Miaka's mother. "Just grabbing my phone!"
He hastily began to cross the most immediate area of the apartment, kitchen, to the living room, where he remembered seeing his phone last.
But before took another step further, he paused.
It smelled like blood; fresh blood.
It was also deathly silent, creepily still and empty. He had expected the others to be busy at work, quiet with their respective roles in the birthday gathering.
Slowly, he raised his head and turned to the kitchen table.
Every was a mess: food, silverware, and everything in-between strewn haphazardly. It didn't compute. Yui was tidy; she went through every last detail to make sure everything was in its proper place.
More shocked than he realized, he dropped the bouquet in his hand, and took a hesitant step toward the mess.
What was going on? Was it some cruel joke?
"Yui?" he called cautiously. "... Yui? Tetsuya? Yuuki-san?... Keisuke?"
She had to be here; someone had to be. The door was unlocked. If they had gone somewhere, Taka wouldn't have been able to come in. He rationalized all sorts of things, but the terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach only grew.
Taka turned toward toward an area outside of the kitchen, the smell of blood suddenly hitting harder than he anticipated. Stifling a gag, he raised a hand to cover his nose.
Blood? That didn't make sense. What the hell was going on?
He dared himself to move. He stepped in something wet; he hadn't taken off his shoes, as he was going to be quick, but he heard the faint splash. He looked downward, and out of astonishment, the bouquet he had bought for Miaka fell out of his hands, and into what he had stepped in.
"Blood?" he recognized aloud, his voice a shaky whisper. In frightened awe, he watched as the flowers soaked up the red liquid like a sponge, the petals stained the same crimson color.
All the color drained from his face. Logic went out the window. Something terrible had happened, and there were countless possibilities as to what.
Taka inspected the blood further, and realized that it was a trail. Bracing himself, he followed it out of the kitchen. Back to front door.
What he discovered made his stomach curl.
"K-Keisuke?" he stammered, finding the bloody body of his friend lying against it. He rushed to the blond, bending down with his hand out. He was battered, savagely beaten up, and as if that wasn't enough, it seemed that he had taken three bullets. All around him, there was blood, and it was lukewarm.
Horrified and saddened, Taka came to the terrible conclusion that he had just missed... whatever this was. If he had come earlier?faster?then maybe he would have been able to save him from who- or whatever it was that did this. Perhaps they would have been able to put their heads together and come up with a plan, but...
Why didn't he notice?
Why didn't he come sooner? Why, why, why?
"The others!" he hissed. Silently saying a prayer for Keisuke, Taka stood up on shaky feet and forced himself to walk past his body.
As the blue-haired man ventured further into the apartment, the scent of blood grew stronger, the sickening, metallic smell he distantly remembered as a Suzaku warrior. It disgusted him, but as if knowing this, the blood continued to assault his nostrils.
Taka stepped foot into the hallway. It was relatively dark, but he didn't dare turn the light on. Whatever killed Keisuke could be lurking nearby, and Taka figured it was best he stayed stealthy.
Quietly, he crept further in. It didn't take him long to hear a soft squish. The rug in the hallway was wet.
He gulped, already prepared to find that it was another trail of blood. Taking in a deep breath, he let his eyes follow its path. It led to Miaka's mother's room.
The stream of blood on the ground was still wet; the death was recent. Taka had to use all the willpower he had to move, to see whose life was cut short.
The smell of death was overpowering, but Taka had grown accustomed to it, no longer needing to cover his nose or hold his breath. With trembling hands, he pushed the door open and went inside, shuffling through the red puddles beneath his feet.
He didn't see anything at first. But then he heard the weak, dying moan from the back of the bedroom door. Slowly, he craned his neck to look behind him.
"Yuuki-san..." Taka whispered shakily. He almost didn't recognize her. Just as Keisuke had been, she was bloody, soaked with red like paint to a paintbrush.
And oh, god, what was that sticking out of her chest? What was hanging her off the ground?
"Run..." she gurgled, barely audible. She feebly reached a hand to him. He grabbed it warmly, knowing that this was the last instance she would feel life. "Run, Taka..."
The hopelessness in the words caused Taka's eyes to sting with hot tears. "Okay..." he managed to choke out, giving Yuuki-san's hand one final squeeze as it slowly began to go limp and cold. They both knew that she couldn't be saved.
This death reminded him of Nuriko's, the way her life simply slipped out of his hands. It only made his heart twinge more painfully.
His legs like jelly, Taka used the doorframe as support as he exited. He still had not found Tetsuya and Yui, but he has learned to fear the worst. But he had to cross his fingers and hope. If they weren't in Miaka's room, then he would have to sneak around elsewhere, and believe that whoever did this came and went.
And he had to hope that Miaka hadn't come home prior to this disaster; that she wasn't among the unfortunate victims.
Taka peered further down the hallway. Sunset was steadily approaching, and it was growing darker inside the Yuuki home. Maybe he could blend in the shadows, but that would mean the killer could, too.
But suddenly, there was light. He furrowed a brow as he stared at the crack under the door of Miaka's room.
Someone was in there, and it seemed like he or she was baiting him. Taka wouldn't easily fall for such a trap, but he couldn't run away just in case Yui and Tetsuya were in there. Who knew, maybe the couple themselves were the ones who flipped on the switch.
Daring himself to move forward, Taka approached the end of the hallway. Mentally bracing himself, he opened the door. It was deceptively empty, and neither Tetsuya nor Yui were within sight. He hoped that they had escaped, but...
From somewhere on his left he heard the shing of something metal. He distinctly remembered seeing a Chinese sword being hung on the wall of Miaka's mother's room?a family heirloom that reminded the priestess fondly of her adventures in the World of the Four Gods.
But this memory of the sword, this instance, will no longer be regarded so highly.
Taka felt a blade swipe at his back. He didn't dodge fast enough, and felt a stinging pain seep into his senses, and warm wetness trickled down his back. He toppled forward and grabbed on to the front edge of the bed, beyond horrified at what had just taken place. He force his shoulder to turn, to see the face of the intruder, and was met with another swing of the weapon?this time, at his abdomen. Without enough distance to slide backward, an angry slash stretched across his stomach.
The blue-haired man, in too much pain to cry out, feebly held one hand over the wound. Gritting his teeth, he snapped his eyes to the intruder, and met with the leer of sheer madness; absolute disregard for another's life. There was no ceremony, no circumstance that could have lead to this point. The stranger was just a crazy, orange-suited killer that came from out of nowhere.
"W-Who are you?" Taka managed, the words barely forming on his lips.
The sword-wielder didn't answer. Instead, he used a booted foot to push him backward against the bed. The ridged sole dug painfully into him, aggravating the glaring wound across his torso.
Taka watched with horror as the killer lifted the sword above him, the the sharp end point-blank at his chest.
Miaka...
"She will die!" the madman screamed, and slammed it downward.
"Miaka?" Boushin repeated indifferently from his perch on the throne.
Tasuki furrowed a brow at him. Since when did he treat the mention of the miko so casually? The young emperor was hiding something, and it had to do with the young woman in question.
"Aa, yes, Boushin-sama, no da," Chichiri affirmed, his fox-like mask hiding his worry. "Miaka-chan disappeared on us, and we know that she's unarmed and being chased by the killer from her world, no da. We were hoping that you've seen her." He glanced at Tasuki before continuing. "We... suspected that she came here, no da."
Boushin bowed his head, shadowing his eyes. The frown on his face was deep, and the fiery seishi's suspicion only grew. In fact, his blood was boiling.
"What is it, Boushin-sama?" Tasuki growled, the honorific coming out mockingly, with unspoken threat. His amber-hued eyes were narrow and angry, invisible flames practically leaping out of the light-colored irises. "It's obvious you know something about her!"
"Tasuki!" Chichiri admonished frantically. "You can't speak that way to the emperor, no da!"
"I spoke however the hell I wanted to Hotohori!" the tessen-wielder countered.
"That was different! He was a seishi!"
"I don't fucking care!" Tasuki yelled. "Miaka's missing, dammit!"
"You certainly have a one-track mind, Tasuki-san, worshipping the ground the miko walks on," Boushin muttered hollowly. "I guess it wouldn't matter that she was the one who tried to kill my mother."
The two seishi went still at the words.
It didn't make sense, and Tasuki was the first to let it be known. "What the fuck are you talking about!"
"Tasuki! Respectful language, no da!" Chichiri hissed, his patience wearing thin.
"Shut up, Chichiri!" Tasuki shot back, and turned back to the young emperor. "Why would you make up something like that! Miaka's incapable of killing someone else!"
Boushin's stare was level, reminiscent of his father's steady, confident gaze. "She wasn't meant to come back, right? It would be pointless to disturb the peace with her presence." He stared at his hands sadly. "It was she who brought that man into my kingdom and ruin it."
"It wasn't her fault," Tasuki rasped through gritted teeth. "You don't know what happened. We do. And we trust our miko's word." His fists were clenched, the knuckles of his hands white and taut. "We will help her resolve this fucking issue, so don't give us shit about how she tried to kill your mom!"
"Houki-sama..." Chichiri murmured out of the blue. "May I ask how she is?"
Boushin frowned, suddenly looking child-like despite his position. "The healers say she has a bigger chance of living than dying, but they're not one hundred percent sure."
"I hope she pulls through, no da," Chichiri said sincerely, "but now we must have justice served by finding Miaka, who is more than likely being chased by that man from her world."
The boy was silent, unnervingly so. He seemed unwilling to answer, but he indeed had one. And finally, after a pregnant pause, "You won't find her with him."
"... What do you mean?" Tasuki questioned suspiciously. "How would you know?"
"Well..."
Chichiri's frown deepened. "Boushin-sama, please."
There was another couple of beats before the emperor opened his mouth again. His expression was grave, but not remorseful. In fact, he seemed sinisterly content with himself.
"I sent her to be killed by some of my guards."
Tasuki's eyes widened, unfamiliar feelings of fear and swelling pain simultaneously filling him. Dread ran up and down his spine, making every strand of his body hair stand on end.
Boushin wasn't quite finished, however, and added with a startling kick to the seishis' guts, "She should be dead."
Feeling the life within himself shatter, Tasuki collapsed to his knees.
Miaka...
When Taka came to a few moments later, he heard her. Her innocent calls, turning quickly into cries of horror.
Miaka had entered the apartment.
Whatever was left of his slowing heart wrenched at every scream and every sob she made upon each terrible discovery.
But the killer was still in the apartment. She had to escape; she just had to! Taka found a renewed pocket of energy in his system, hoping that the woman he loved got enough sense to leave and save herself.
Miaka... he thought with desperation. Run, my love... run! Don't come here!
And yet, a part of him wanted to see her beautiful face one last time. Just to know that it would be the final thing he saw before his demise.
He suppressed a groan as he strained his eyes on the ceiling. His hope for her to stay away suddenly turned into desperation to see her, to know that he would die being loved. It was a bad thing to wish, but he didn't want to leave this world alone with a sword through his chest, unjustly killed by someone he had never seen before in his life.
In that case...he thought sadly.
... he would have to hold on until Miaka came.
Follow them... follow...
Kurai continued the chase. His surroundings blurred together like smudges on a painting. The only thing clear was the girl his vision had zoned in on.
Follow... follow... follow...
All that time spent spying, sneakily gathering information, tracking not only her, but the people she knew, determined to keep his eyes on the prize... it was going to pay off.
He no longer cared to think about the events up to this point. He wanted to kill. He wanted to feel her blood seep through his fingers, he longed for the dead dullness in her pretty little eyes. His one-track mind was only focused on her.
Followfollowfollowfollow.
It was now coming to a head. This vengeance was finally his.
Tani will be dead, once and for all. The demons haunting him will be gone; bled out like the crimson liquid he couldn't wait to see when he punctured the soft, fragile skin of the girl.
He threw the knife with as much force as possible. It hit her shoulder. While it was not enough force to cripple her, the surprise of the action caused her to momentarily freeze and trip. She fell forward with a cry.
Kurai sped up, closing in the gap. His shadow loomed over the brunette as she tried to get up. He, however, was quick to entrap her, pressing his foot forcefully against her spine.
"Leave me alone!" she yelled feebly, breaking into tears.
Ah, the sweet, beautiful sound of grief. Kurai relished it greatly, especially in her. He has followed her all this way, and now that she was in his grasp, he was not going to let her live.
"Tani..." he breathed, his voice dripping with sinister playfulness. He squatted over her body, his foot pressing harder against her back. Crudely, he pulled the protruding knife out of her shoulder. She groaned in pain.
His eyes traced excitedly over the blood coming out of the wound, the rise and fall of her quickening, pained breaths, the tears of her helplessness. "This is the end for you..." he finally finished.
"No!" she screamed. She struggled against him. "Someone help me! HELP!"
"My presence has scared everyone away," he reminded her. "This timid little village won't help you."
Her fists, at either side of her head, were clenched in anger. "I'm the miko," she hissed shakily. It appeared that she was speaking more to herself than to him, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like he understood what she meant.
She mumbled something else, though, that he didn't quite catch. But it did sound like...
He suddenly heard the cry of a bird, ephemeral and hot?both dangerous and fascinating to him. It sparkled with magic. It rose like a god. He didn't see anything, but the presence was unmistakable.
Suzaku.
That was what she had whispered.
Kurai growled venomously. This was the same little trick the girl had performed back in the library. He didn't understand what this was. It didn't compute as plausible. It didn't matter, though, because as soon as he set in motion the knife he held over his head, she will be dead before her magic could connect.
With a squeeze of the hilt, he moved.
But behind him, he heard the lick of incoming flames.
Kouji heard a feminine voice reverberate throughout the empty town square. He stopped. Someone in town was crying for help. The scream bounced off the walls of the buildings, the only sound to pervade the silence in the air.
No doubt that it was the priestess he abandoned; the priestess who brought danger into this peaceful world. Now this area was desolate... almost abandoned because of her. The town square was no longer the lively hustle and bustle of merchants, buyers, and everything in-between.
Although he told himself that he didn't have anything to do with the miko his best friend had cared about so much, his feet wouldn't allow himself to leave for the mountain.
It wasn't because of the priestess, he reckoned. It was because of Genrou he felt the need to save her. For his sake, not hers.
And yet, he still doubted. The emotions that possessed him were beginning to wear off, and his mind was starting to clear. He had been thinking with the heartbroken rage in his gut rather than his brain.
All of his actions since his niece's death have been a disorienting whirlwind, but still the feeling of guilt continued to nudge at him.
But before he could take the first step of atonement to the priestess of Suzaku, he spotted two speeding blurs: one orange, the other light blue; they paused briefly on the rooftop of the building beside where Kouji stood before jumping off.
Miaka's seishi.
Those two men were still willing to save such a forsaken girl, the fallen miko. It must've said something about her character that Kouji didn't realize; or refused to realize while his vision blurred with memories of Kiku.
Git 'er done, Genrou, he thought, turning in the opposite direction, to let him and Chichiri do what they were destined to do. Save your priestess and cherish her... even when all of Konan turns against her.
Miaka gasped and ducked her head into the ground, covering her shaking arms over her head, ignoring the throbbing, bleeding pain in her shoulder.
That stream of fire was very, very familiar to her.
Her own prayer to Suzaku had been answered, and not in the way she quite expected. She had been certain that her seishi would have gotten the news by now from Boushin that he tried to execute her, or that Kouji told her to disappear; which she was supposed to do.
And yet, here they were, going to save her again.
Kurai dodged, rolling away and landing in a crouch a few feet away. Clearly, he didn't expect any heroes for her; he probably assumed that she had been completely abandoned, so absorbed in that fact and his intent to kill her that he suddenly lost his train of thought. He was also from her world, so he wouldn't know just how capable her seishi were.
Miaka was so grateful for them.
"Tasuki!" she screamed.
"Miaka?" called a familiar, masculine voice. She heard footsteps rapidly approaching.
Her heart swelled with relief; with overwhelming hope.
She wasn't alone.
The killer growled loudly with frustration, only temporarily set back by the fiery attack. He squeezed the knife in his hand and charged.
But Chichiri, nimble on his feet, intercepted, using his walking stick to trip Kurai. He toppled backward, landing hard on his back. The knife flew out of his hand, skidding to a stop under a nearby foodstand.
Chichiri held him down with his powers, cuffs made of water pinning his limbs and torso against the ground.
Miaka's green eyes widened with awe. Chichiri...
"What is this fucking trickery, Tani!" Kurai sputtered, glaring at Miaka madly, his beady irises still filled with the intent to kill.
"End of the line, asshole," Tasuki sneered, walking confidently toward the trapped killer, stepping past Miaka's lying form and stopping in front of her protectively.
Her eyes quivered, her heart aching as the bandit appeared. Even with the short separation, she found herself missing him sorely.
He pointed his fan down at the enemy's face, but didn't attack again. "You ain't gonna torture the priestess of Suzaku no more."
Miaka wondered if Tasuki felt unsure about what to do. He probably thought she was a bit of a pacifist, and would rather have the killer incarcerated than burnt to ashes; that she would be unable to handle violence in the same way she couldn't handle hearing gunshots.
Indeed, she had once been more gracious of a person, the type of person to believe all humans should live, punished and not executed. But it all changed because of this demon. Her world had grown dark, for sure; and there was never a moment where she didn't think of her loved ones without thinking of the smell and sight of blood. She was damaged, but at the same time not unrepairable.
A part of her wanted to know how and why he did these things to her and to the people who strengthened her, but in the end, she was just tired. She no longer cared for the details of the man's sick thought process or his morbid fascinations.
She wanted the man dead.
"Let him burn," she requested quietly.
"Miaka-chan..." Chichiri murmured in concern, his brows furrowed. However, he seemed too hesitant to protest her calm, weary hate for the killer pinned by his magic.
Her voice, hollow and murky, caused Tasuki to tense. He had never heard her so corrupted, so melancholy but mature. Not even when they first reunited, did he fathom her so jaded by these events. But Miaka knew he understood why she wanted such an ending to this horror; both her seishi did.
Taka and the others would have, too.
"You're the miko," the bandit drawled softly. "We'll follow you to the end." He then corrected himself, with something more heartfelt lacing under his gruff tone. "I will follow you to the end, Miaka." She couldn't see his eyes, as hers were fastened to the back of his fiery mane, but she knew that his amber orbs were softly gleaming with how he felt for her.
He slammed the end of tessen into the ground in front of him. A diamond of fire surrounded Kurai. He looked around frantically, for the first time showing fear in his mad, wide-eyed stare.
Tasuki didn't allow him to take time to fearfully take in the sight of the fire, however. With a searing glare, he willed the flames to fill in the inner, unburnt space with more streaks of fire, filling the diamond like spokes on a sharp wheel.
The man screamed. It was bloodcurdling, befitting of someone being burned alive. The sound would've been haunting if it came from any other person, but not him.
Tasuki turned back to Miaka and tried to hide her face in his chest as the body flailed and charred, but she angled away, forcing herself to watch as the burden of her troubles, the killer of her family and friends, and the catalyst in her fall as the Priestess of Suzaku, became sorrowful ashen bits.
It was darkly satisfying.
Having just come out of the bath and her wound tended to, Miaka sat down at the edge of her bed, letting out the sigh that released all the heavy feelings contained within herself. It had been a rush of emotions: passion, fear, and frustration, and she had never been so glad to finally have finality on something.
There was a knock at her door. "Hey... can I come in?"
Except maybe one thing.
"Yes," she called.
Promptly, Tasuki entered. Upon seeing her in just a robe, he immediately averted his gaze, looking awkward. Unusually, he seemed a bit flushed, his face slightly reddened. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. She reckoned that he was afraid of coming on too strong to her. "Ya should'a said..."
"It's okay," she reassured him with a small smile.
He didn't budge.
"Tasuki...Ethe brunette coaxed. "Come here. It's just me."
Hesitantly, his fierce amber gaze drifted to hers. Something peaceful and electrifyingly warm crawled up her spine as she stared at him, currents of attraction weaving wildly between them.
Tasuki walked to her bed. It was only a short distance across the room, but every step felt torturously slow. When he finally stopped before her, he knelt down, his eyes never wavering from hers. Her two legs surrounded his lowered form, giving him room to embrace her, which he gingerly did.
She melted into him and buried her glazing green eyes into his hair. She had missed him, this fiery, passionate warmth that was differen't from Taka's and different from Tamahome's; this essence of the orange-haired seishi was new, intense, and exciting.
"For a second, I was damn scared," he whispered into her ear, his voice hoarse. "We saw Boushin... but..." He buried his own face into the crook of her neck, greedily taking her in. "... but we remembered that the seishi always knew where their priestess was." She had ever heard Tasuki spoke so tenderly, or so full of utter relief for her safety.
All of a sudden, she felt a tentative kiss against her neck. She blushed a little, fighting the urge to kiss his lips and allow their attraction to consummate and soar.
It wouldn't be fair just yet.
Sweetly, she stroked his orange locks, letting her own lips brush against his head. "Tasuki?" she spoke up in a hushed voice.
He was aware of the apology in her tone, but he didn't sound offended when he responded. "Yeah?"
She closed her eyes. "Please wait for me," she said, burrowing into him even further, clinging to him tighter. "Wait for my heart to accept you. After it's mended."
"... Oi," he replied softly, lifting his head. He pulled back slightly to look at her; his eyes were warm. "I've waited years hopin' to see ya again." The subsequent peck against the corner of her mouth was endearing; his smile was playful. "Don't ya think I can wait a few more to have you?"
She giggled for the first time in a long one, so thankful for his patience and understanding. It felt good to stretch these muscles an achingly good degree.
She leaned her forehead against his. "I guess so."
How long has it been? Three years already?
Miaka gazed over the cliff, the familiar sight of the forests below Mt. Leikaku meeting her weary eyes. It was quiet, quite unusual given her living situation with some loud bandits and a quirky monk.
The lot of it felt quite long and difficult, with her emotions constantly in turmoil, and her body drained from repairing all the damage she and Kurai had caused to the capital, but Miaka wasn't as weak as everyone thought she was. Although there would always be a place in her heart for her lost loved ones, she was still now much stronger than who she was back when she first came into this world.
Taka, she said into the sunset in the distance. I can handle anything.
She heard shuffling behind her. The familiar rhythm of the footfalls made her recognize instantly who it was.
"Miaka," Tasuki's voice came in rambunctiously. "How long are ya gonna sit here? We got dinner to eat! I know you can't miss that!"
The brunette turned, looking up at him with a small smile. The orange-red of the setting sun gave her seishi a soft, romantic lighting against his roughly handsome features.
As if with reflex, pleasant, swelling feelings stirred within. Her heart thumped harder; her body grew warmer. Heat snuck up her face as he joined her, standing next to her as he gazed out at the sunset with her.
"I can only look at so much'a these," he commented with a chuckle. "They all seem boring once ya see 'em from every angle of Konan."
Taka, she thought, I think most of this emotional baggage has been lifted. I can move on.
She would always miss the ones she had lost, but she couldn't hold on to them forever. They would be watching over her, but they could never come back. She had to look forward and find happiness.
Miaka sneakily slipped her hand into Tasuki's.
Quick to notice, he looked down at her, apprehensive at first, and then grinned devilishly. He gave her hand an reciprocative squeeze.
She knew he could read it in her eyes as much as she could read it in his. They could both tell that she was ready now.
I can fall in love again.
Tasuki pulled her into him. A little surprised by the action, she turned her face upward, her eyes automatically finding his. Nothing could compare to this sensation?feeling whole again after a long battle with lonely emptiness. Nothing could replace the way her heart thumped merrily at the fire of love in his amber orbs. She was sure her own eyes reflected the same serenity.
Together, they closed the distance between each other and kissed.
Again, I hope the continuity is okay. It's been, what? Around a year and a half since Chapter 9? Heh.
Thank you for reading! Please review!

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