Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Byakko no... Shounin? ❯ I don't think I'm in Tokyo anymore... ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

2
Disclaimer: I don’t own, nor claim to own Fushigi Yugi or anything relating to it. Only the original characters are mine, no one else is. Suing me would be a huge, whoppin’ waste of your time, and would probably cost you more money than you’d earn, since I’m a perpetually broke college student. Have a nice day, Lawyer-sans!
I don’t think I’m in Tokyo anymore Toto. Jiro thought as he scanned the desert that surrounded him. The sand and wind-sculpted rock, as far as the eye could see, was a dramatic difference from the attic of a two-story house in Tokyo. Jiro pinched himself, hard, and after wincing and cursing a bit, had to admit that this may not be some kind of intense hallucination. And, I guess that that white energy wasn’t a hallucination either. But how the hell did this happen? He thought back to the book, more importantly the book’s title, “The Universe of The Four Gods”. I’ve heard that name before, I know I have. But where, and more importantly in what reference? Jiro couldn’t remember.

The sun’s too hot, better find some shade. He rescanned the area and noticed that some of the rocks off to the left looked more like cliffs and like they could shelter a person, so he headed off towards them. But he was only able to get within a few yards of the wind-sculpted cliffs before trouble struck.

“Well, well, what d’we have here?” a crude voice slurred, “Hey fellas! We got us a new toy! Come an’ see!” Jiro looked up and saw a rough-looking man dressed in ragged, dirty clothes leering down at him. The clothes may have been ruined, and the skin may have been filthy, but the man’s weapons were in good condition and so were his muscles. The five other men that crawled out from the caves and pockets in the cliff were like their companion.

“Heh, you ain’t kiddin’ Einke.” said a second man, “Not only is he a pretty lil’ scrub but that’s some mighty fine quality clothes he’s wearin’. Weird, but worth a bundle, prob’ly.”

“Wonder what’s under those weird clothes, eh fellas?” A third man said, hopping off the ledge he was on to stalk closer.

“How’s ‘bout we find out?” said a fourth, hitching up his pants meaningfully. All the other men laughingly agreed and began to stalk Jiro.

Now, Jiro was not standing still in sheer terror this entire time. He’d been attacked often enough to know that he had to try and find some way to escape. The trouble was, he couldn’t find any escape route. Running would do no good, he obviously wasn’t as strong as these men and, even if by some miracle, Jiro proved faster, the bandits’ endurance would enable them to catch him in the end. Darting into the cliffs would as prove fruitless, this was their turf, they would know of all the hiding places in there and would eventually find him. Fighting was definitely out of the question. Jiro wasn’t as puny as some bookworms but he was still fairly weak, especially compared to these men. And finally, bargaining would be worthless, why would these bandits bargain for something that they were going to take anyway, with interest?

The bandits continued to stalk closer, and Jiro instinctively edged away from them with every step they took towards him. Screw this! Maybe it’s hopeless, but I’m not going to just stand here and let them do whatever without doing something myself! Jiro turned and ran away as fast as he possibly could. This may have seemed cowardly, but when you knew you had no choice regardless of the action you took, running was actually pretty brave. It at least showed that you hadn’t given up. Unfortunately, all that the running did was whet the bandits’ appetite for violence by triggering their predator-after-prey response. Jiro had barely gotten a half-dozen yards before a hand clamped like a vice onto his injured shoulder and jerked him back roughly.
His Imperial Majesty, Heir to the Throne, Second Born of the Emperor, First Born Son of The Emperor, The Royal Prince Shintara accepted the cup of light wine from a servant with a kind smile and nod of thanks, then reclined back on the silk cushions to stare out at the desert. He never thought of himself by his titles, in fact whenever he was announced in court the he had to restrain himself from making a face with a great effort of will. None of his friends referred to him by his titles, or even as Shintara-sama. They knew that the just-adult prince much preferred to be called by his Celestial Warrior name, Tatara. Unfortunately, his friends were few, mostly restricted to servants of various levels, and the priests (more properly known as ‘Keepers’) of the High Temple of Byakko. The High Keeper was a very good, personal friend of Tatara. Too bad Lord Father sees it as a political alliance against him instead of just a friendship.

Tatara scowled as he thought about his father. The Emperor was paranoid and power-hungry, and listened far too much to his favorite advisor who only fed that paranoia. Also unfortunately, whenever Tatara tried to advise his father in an opposite course than the advisor said, the Emperor saw it as in-fighting rather than a difference of opinion, and dismissed the advice. The real problem is, it’s half-true. The Chief Advisor was ambitious, and had risen just about as high as he could go in court. But the station of Prince and Imperial Heir would always rank higher than the station of Chief Advisor. So, the only way that the advisor could reach a higher rank than the Heir was to drag the Heir down by discrediting him. And he’s doing a damn good job too. Tatara didn’t like to fight, even if it was just political jockeying, which gave the Advisor an advantage. Politics made Tatara just flat out nauseous, end of story.

Which was why he was out in the desert with a hunting party while ambassadors from the other three Empires were making their first public court appearance. I can talk to them later, make a show of offering them the fruits of the hunt with a semi-open feast. Father can’t count that as conspiracy; I’ll be in the public eye the entire time with his spy’s watching me. They’ll report that I was just being kind to the ambassadors and that will be that. I hope. A servant offered him a platter of sliced fruit and Tatara absently accepted it while he planned out his actions for the feast, and how he would invite the ambassadors with the least amount of suspicious behavior. The Celestial Warrior was suddenly jarred out of his brown study by a sudden, strong urge to go… somewhere.

He looked up and stretched his senses. He didn’t see or hear anything suspicious, but the urge to move, to fight, wasn’t diminishing. If anything, it was getting stronger the more he tried to locate its source. He rose, puzzling the servants and the few nobles, young and old but mostly minor nobles that had accompanied him.

“Ouji-sama? (Lord Prince) Is there anything you need?” His personal servant asked, sorely confused by her master’s behavior. He was standing, tensed, belt knife in hand, looking around almost frantically.

“Ready my horse. Now! There’s someplace I need to be.” Tatara was quivering with the need to be wherever this feeling was drawing him to. Is this it? Is this what I’ve been waiting for, ever since I learned what this symbol on my forehead meant? Has the Byakko no Miko finally arrived? From the way that his servant had run off after a startled glance at the symbol blazing on his forehead, he thought it was so. He charged off towards where the horses had been picketed, calling for his small, but powerful Horse Bow, and the quiver of War Arrows that had been brought, just in case the hunting party encountered bandits.

Many of the nobles were now fully alarmed, but strangely enough, it was the younger nobles that were questioning his behavior. The older nobles knew what was happening, or thought they knew at least. They had heard from their mothers and fathers the tales of the first Byakko Seven and how they had always protected their Miko when she was imperiled. They knew, when the current Tatara’s symbol was glowing that brightly, and his eyes were shining with so much purpose, that the time had finally come. Their Miko had arrived and Tatara was going to her. The elder nobles quickly gathered their bows, spears, lances, slings and whatever other weapons they had brought. A few directed the younger nobles to quickly prepare themselves as well. But by the time the rest of the hunting party was ready for the rescue, Tatara was already gone. Impatient with how long it was taking his servants to saddle his horse, he had taken over and done it himself and took the simple hunting bow and bird arrows already there. By the strength of the pull, almost painful, he didn’t have much time.
The youngest of the bandits, Kauji, was starting to get freaked out. The boy that he and the others had caught wasn’t acting the way that he should. Oh, he had run properly, as an unarmed victim should, and he had fought well also. Maybe too well, like a cornered, wild animal, using tooth and nail as well as fists and feet. That had earned him a beating, and that’s where Kauji was getting freaked. The boy wasn’t making any noise. The only sound he had made thus far was the first, and only, outcry when his shoulder had been grabbed. Since then he’d only grunted with the impacts on his body, and coughed when he’d been half-strangled. And even those noises had been strangely muffled, like he was trying to keep quiet, which didn’t make any sense. The only thing that the quiet was doing was enraging Einke. Einke liked it when his victims screamed and begged, but this boy-toy wasn’t indulging his wishes. So Einke was starting to go to great lengths to get noise out of his toy.

The bandit lifted his toy up by the collar of his shirt and looked him over. The boy’s face was nearly as red as his hair from the punches, some of the new bruises starting to purple over. His eyes were almost completely swollen shut, and his lip was split and bleeding. More blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth, either from some wound in his mouth or internal bleeding, and both nostrils were bleeding as well. There were marks on his neck from being choked, and one arm hung limply from all the breaks in it. The opposite arm was intact, but the hand was swollen; it had been stomped on and crushed by Einke. But the boy was still alive, still conscious.

Kauji looked at the boy’s weird, blue eyes and nearly ran. The look in them just wasn’t right! Panic, hysteria, agony, something, just not… tired resignation! But not only that, they seemed to be begging for some kind of explanation, like the boy just wanted to know why he was being beaten. As if, if he got that explanation, he could die peacefully.

Einke wasn’t going to provide an explanation, not now, not ever. He just wanted his screams. He got them, just not from the source he was expecting. Kauji was watching Einke start to strip the boy, when the boy’s body suddenly started to fade into a bright blue-white light. Roughly three seconds later, too quickly for the bandit to drop his victim, an arrow seemed to sprout from the sadist’s throat, followed by a second. The other bandits took up their weapons as Einke dropped his prize in favor of groping the objects in his throat just before he keeled over dead. He was soon accompanied by all four of the other bandits that had taken arms against the archer as they sprouted arrows from their eyes, throat, and chest. Kauji took all this in, looked in the direction the arrows were coming from, took in the archer on horse back and the crowd that was following some distance behind, and made the wise decision to run for his life screaming. He didn’t get very far. Having three arrows lodged in your legs doesn’t do much for your speed or agility. But Kauji decided not to protest too much. After all, he was still alive, which was a definite improvement over his very-dead fellows.
Tatara urged his horse to maintain his canter right up to where the bodies of the bandits lay. But the gelding was not about to go on top of the bodies; after all, the gelding was a hunter, not a warhorse. Hunters and palfreys, pleasure-riding horses, had a strong aversion to stepping on their masters, humans. But near was good enough for Tatara, the moment his horse balked, he launched himself out of the saddle and to the only form in the pile that didn’t sport arrows. So strange, but there’s no mistake, he thought, this young boy is the chosen of Byakko. Why else would I feel this bond with him? And how else could he produce that light? Tatara gently propped up the slight form and studied him. The boy was in horrible shape and not completely conscious. Blue-green eyes slitted open and stared into Tatara’s own gray eyes.

“It’s all right,” Tatara said softly, coaxingly, “you’re safe now. I have you, you’re safe now.” The boy blinked, whimpered softly and passed out. By this time, the rest of the party had caught up with the prince. “Get a stretcher and bring the doctor-” Tatara bellowed.

“I’m here!” A small man interrupted and ran straight to where the prince was cradling the injured youth, and then quickly went to work. The doctor next started to bark out orders, even to the prince, and was obeyed just as readily. Tatara had strict rules that if anyone was badly injured, then everyone else was to do exactly as the doctor said, least disobedience lead to death.

“Ouji-sama,” one of the younger nobles said after the doctor pronounced the strange boy stabilized and ready for transport back to the hunting pavilion and from there to the palace, “Ouji-sama, what should we do about that?” he said, pointing to that bandit that was attempting to get the arrows out of his legs and escape without attracting attention.

Tatara studied the bandit, who froze, seeing that he was being watched. “Bring him alive, he was the only one not participating in torturing the Chosen of Byakko, or in assaulting me. He may prove useful, provided he gives us the information I desire from him.”

“Very well my lord.” The noble said. He called to his own retainers, and went to capture the downed-but-living bandit. Another noble approached the prince, who hadn’t left the strange boy’s side.

“My lord, are you sure that this is Byakko-sama’s Chosen?” the middle-aged noble asked, “I mean, he’s male and no male may be a Miko, the idea is absurd! It’s a contradiction of terms; the Holy Scroll stated we would be granted a Byakko-no-Miko!”

“I am sure,” Tatara answered, eyes never leaving the boy’s face. “He glowed for a moment in Byakko’s light, and right now I feel as if I am doing precisely as I should, guarding my Priest. Also, the public copy of the Holy Scroll is a translation of the original. Things could have been mistranslated, or misunderstood.” Tatara’s statement was said with great firmness. The Celestial warrior had unshakable faith in his duty and future. The noble wasn’t as convinced though.

“But… a Byakko no Shounin? Not only has it been a Miko for us in the past, but for the other Gods as well!” The noble cried.

“The White Tiger will do as He wills. It is our duty to obey His will. If the White Tiger decided on a change, then we must go along with it. And I plan to do precisely that.” There was nothing on earth or beyond it that could shake Tatara’s conviction.