Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Byakko no... Shounin? ❯ Nice Kitty... ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Armina Skitty 
Jiroshi is forced to prove himself. Hoh-boy...
Anime/Manga: Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.22.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 252 | Status: Completed
Jiroshi is forced to prove himself. Hoh-boy...
Anime/Manga: Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.22.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 252 | Status: Completed
3
Disclaimer: I don’t own Fushigi Yuugi, nor do I own the myth behind it. All I own is Jiro and the characters that I have made, not the names that they have. If you’d like to sue me in spite of this, please note that I am a broke college student owned by a cat nick-named Anti-Christ for a reason. If you think that you can win a fight with the Anti-Christ, please feel free to try and do so. I’ll sell the movie rights of your slaughter to the highest bidder.
“Ah, please don’t move, your Eminence.” An unknown male said. Jiro was confused. Eminence? Was there some other injured person here? Then the grey-eyed, silver-haired young man came over and gently soothed him. “Please, your Eminence, you mustn’t move. You’ll only aggravate your injuries.” The youth said, his eyes overflowing with worry and concern.
Jiro just stared at him in non-comprehension, “Eminence?” He croaked weakly, “who are you talking about?” The grey-eyed youth cocked his head to the side and blinked at him.
“Why, you, of course. Do you not know the legends?” the youth asked.
“Legends?” Jiro asked back.
“If I may,” came the gruff, deep voice of an older man. “it is written that the Byakko no Miko of our history was equally bewildered, and had no more notion as to what was occurring than the Shounin has.” An old man with hair whitened by age came into Jiro’s field of view. The old man was wearing the robes of a priest and had one of the kindest expressions that Jiro had ever seen. Despite his confusion and apprehension, the newcomer felt himself relaxing due to that expression.
“Young one, have you ever heard of the story of the Priestess of one of the Four Gods?” The priest asked. Jiro shook his head carefully, mindful of his damaged body. “Well, from our histories, the story goes like this: a young woman from the other world comes into this one in some manner to become the Priestess of one of the Gods. It goes in order, Genbu, Byakko, Suzaku, then Seiryuu. For some reason, Genbu seems to have been skipped, so the next God to be served would be Byakko. We knew you were coming, your Celestial Warriors are ready.”
“Celestial Warriors?” Jiro asked.
“There are twenty-eight constellations broken into four groups of seven.” The youth picked up the explanation. “For each of the Gods’ Chosen, there are seven Warriors for the seven constellations. I am Tatara of Byakko’s Seven. And…” He hesitated, then was interrupted by a tap on the door.
“Ouji-sama?” A servant asked meekly, cracking open the door.
“Yes?” Tatara responded, half-turning to give the servant an irritated look.
“Ouji-sama, the Emperor has summoned you, Ouji-sama.” The servant explained. Jiro noticed that the priest and Tatara exchanged serious looks.
“Tell the Emperor that I’ll be there in a moment.” The white-haired youth said as he rose. The servant vanished well before that. Tatara took off the coat he was wearing while the priest went to the side of the room and poured a pitcher of water into a basin. “I hope this isn’t going to be about what I think it’s going to be about.” he muttered.
“Forgive my presumption your highness, but you know it is.” The priest chided with a kind, worried smile.
“Highness? Ouji-sama?” Jiro asked weakly.
“Mm, yes, unfortunately I am the eldest son of the Emperor.” Tatara said as he washed quickly. The priest lifted a rich set of robes out of a chest in a corner of the room and handed them to the prince. “All that means to me is that I have to bother with these nonsensical court gatherings and bear my Lord Father’s suspicions.” the youth sighed.
“And, unfortunately, the Emperor chooses to disbelieve that both of his eldest children are of the Byakko Seven.” the priest said. “And it is a greater misfortune that you are male and not female.”
Jiro stared at him, “What do you mean?”
“The Chosen of Byakko has been a Miko in the past, as have the Chosen of the other Gods.” Tatara explained as he pulled on his overly-fancy court-garb. “Many of the court would rather believe that I am mistaken and that the Chosen of Byakko has yet to appear. The legend says that the Chosen will appear when Byakko’s land is imperiled. Some see the Byakko Seven and the Miko, or in this case Shounin, as figures of ill-omen, and not saviors.”
“Tatara!” The priest scolded.
“Oh” Jiro said weakly. I see, I am despised here too. For some reason, that thought made him relax. Being despised was at least familiar.
“Well, that is one of the things I’m going to try and work on.” The Warrior said, frowning, eyes turned inward in thought, so that he didn’t notice the priest or the Priest. “Jiya, is it settled in the back?” He asked the priest.
“Humph, yes. Splendid as always.” Jiya grumbled.
“It had better be at this point, I’ve had enough practice.” The prince grumbled back. “Wish me luck, I feel I need it.
“My Royal Lord Father.” He said while his head was bowed.
“Prince Shintara.” The fat man on the throne said in reluctant tones, scowling at his son. Shintara/Tatara looked nothing like his father, who was of clear Sairounin breeding. Tatara’s homeland had a clear ethnicity type, dark hair, dark eyes and dusky skin. Tatara had stormy grey eyes, silvery white hair and had skin that was fairer than the rest of the court’s. According to legend, this also pointed him out as one of the Celestial Warriors, for only those born to a legendary destiny were thus marked out.
But all this did was make Tatara’s father despise him more. The prince didn’t know why his father didn’t like him, not really. Maybe the Emperor had wanted to be more special than just being Emperor, maybe he didn’t want to be Emperor of a restless period; either cause would have made him dislike the sign of what he did not have. Tatara didn’t pretend to know which cause it was, or if there might be more causes. But whatever it was, the youth resented it; it got in the way of his doing the job his Deity had given him.
“Shintara,” the Emperor growled again, “we have been informed that during your little hunt yesterday, you picked up something other than game.”
“This is true, my Lord.” Tatara answered, deciding that truth and cooperation would be the best ploy this time. “I picked up two things to be precise. One of them was a young bandit. I presumed to instruct my Lord’s jailer to extract information from him. I felt that the best way to locate other bandit bands was to have one of that number lead our land’s soldiers to them.”
“Well enough.” The Emperor grumbled, not showing whether he approved or disapproved, “What of the other… thing?”
“Would you be referring to the Byakko no Shounin, whom I rescued, my Lord?” Tatara said daringly. The entire court went into a frenzy of shocked whispers; the nobles of the court did love being shocked and scandalized. The prince pretended not to notice, watching his Lord Father through half-lidded eyes. The Emperor scowled deeply, and the little, richly dressed man standing just beneath and to the right of the throne leaned up to whisper to the Emperor. Tatara struggled not to scowl himself. How he hated that little worm!
“Enough,” the Emperor growled to the court. The nobles were still too busy being shocked to hear him. “Enough! Silence!!” He bellowed. The richly appointed, vaulted courtroom fell silent. The Emperor harrumphed to himself, then said, “We are not convinced that the thing you picked up could possibly be what you say it is. What proof can you offer?” Tatara mentally flinched.
“Only the proofs that, when under duress from the bandits, an intense white light radiated from the Byakko no Shounin.” Tatara said, “The same has been recorded as happening within the first month of the Byakko no Miko’s appearance. This phenomena was not only witnessed by myself, but by all whom accompanied me on the hunt yesterday.”
“We do not consider that proof enough.” The Emperor rumbled, as Tatara feared he would, but had hoped he wouldn’t. “Can you give us other proofs?”
“Simply this, that I was aware that the Byakko no Shounin was imperiled, in spite of the fact that there was no way I possibly could have under normal circumstances. The Shounin was much too far away for me to hear, see or otherwise sense him.” Tatara said. Then he prayed silently.
“That too, is simply not enough. What other proofs can you offer me that the world has gone mad and that the chosen representative of the god is a man and not the woman we were promised?” The Emperor snarled down at Tatara, eyes gleaming in triumph. He knew, or thought he did, that Tatara had nothing else.
“There is this,” The young prince said, pulling out a scroll, “this is a direct copy of the holy scroll given to us by Taiitsukun. Upon reading it, I noticed that all of the terms referring to the Chosen of Byakko are non-gender specific. To be precise, it says that one of the other world would come to serve and summon Byakko. I can only assume-”
“Would you have us believe,” the Emperor interrupted, “that you, a mere whelp, are better in translating the ancient tongue than over a dozen learned scholars?” the Emperor scoffed. “We do not believe this. Nor do we believe that you will ever produce enough evidence to satisfy us. We declare that this so-called Shounin is an imposter and a liar. Further, he is a traitor, trying to seduce and betray the prince with his lies. We therefore declare that he is to be executed!”
Tatara swallowed his panic and breathed deeply, trying to settle himself into a soothing attitude. “My Lord, how can the youth you declare to be a traitor and a danger be so when he is too badly injured to even walk?” The court that had been murmuring in shock renewed its murmurs. “Indeed, had I not appeared when I did to rescue him, he would even now be dead. He had neither the energy nor the time to seduce my senses; he fell unconscious within moments of my reaching him. And if you feel my word is not enough, question any whom accompanied me the prior day.”
The Emperor scowled even more fiercely than before, and listened intently to the advisor by his knee. “We do not want to seem barbaric, so we will propose a test of faith.” Tatara stifled a scowl of his own; all the faith tests he knew of were more barbaric than a simple execution and usually just as lethal.
“I fear that that test will have to be postponed, for the Shounin is simply too injured and weak to accomplish even the least of them. This you may see for yourself if you so choose, my Lord.” Tatara said, hoping to buy time to think up a counter to this. The Advisor studied the prince with a predetorial stare; the kind a snake gives a rat after it has injected a lethal amount of venom. The Advisor’s triumph in this was only a matter of time.
“Perhaps I have a solution, Lord Father, Lord Brother.” came a lofty female voice from a small side entrance to the courtroom. All attention was riveted to the entrance and the figure therein. It was Shinalla, Shintara’s twin sister. She had the same white hair and silver eyes as Tatara, denoting her heritage as Subaru of the Byakko Seven. But unlike Tatara, she had no use for her Celestial destiny, and was therefore their father’s favorite. Right now it looked like she was going to reinforce that, her nose was in the air and she looked down upon her slightly younger brother with a haughty smirk. In spite of that smirk, she was still incredibly beautiful, and she knew it.
“I,” She announced, “have a perfect idea. One that will test the faith of this ‘Shounin’ of Brother’s, and will tax him not at all.” She waltzed up to the dais to her father.
#Subaru, what are you doing?# Tatara thought at her fiercely, using the ability that only they had, silent speech.
#Don’t use that name, I’m Shinalla! And don’t worry, dear little brother, if this ‘Shounin’ is what you claim he is, he won’t be harmed at all.# She replied silently, frowning at her brother.
“What is this idea that you are giving us?” The Celestial twin’s father asked ponderously.
“It’s quite simple really.” She said lazily, “We bring this Shounin into the Holy Tigers’ pen and leave him there over night.” She paused to allow the effect of her statement to sweep the room. “The Great White Tiger would hardly allow His earthly incarnation to harm His chosen priest. But an imposter would be rent limb from limb.” She smiled endearingly over the entire court then fondly up at her father. “It couldn’t possibly be simpler and requires no effort at all from this ‘Shounin’. Who could possible protest?”
I can protest, Tatara thought as his mouth dried with fear. The Holy Temple’s tigers were used for troublesome executions and were completely ruthless and bloodthirsty. That small youth will be brutalized within the first ten minutes, let alone a whole night. #Subaru, how could you? Can you not feel the pull? This is our Priest!#
#My name is Shinalla, and I feel nothing. I never will, for this Chosen will not come.#
#Subaru!# The Emperor in the mean time declared his daughter’s notion to be brilliant and that it would be enacted immediately. Tatara shook himself out of shock and protested as best he could, then when that failed, tried to delay the sentence from that very evening to some later day, when the ‘Shounin’ was more healed. Failing even in this, Shintara was sent to fetch his ‘Shounin’ for the test, his protests completely ignored. The prince had no option but to do as he was ordered.
I don’t even know his name! I never asked him, I wanted to reassure him when he woke, not interrogate him, the Warrior thought as he walked back. He soon reached the room he had chosen for the Shounin and woodenly reached out to open the door. Jiya immediately stood to greet the prince, then slumped at Tatara’s expression.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?” The old Keeper asked.
“Very,” Tatara said solemnly. He noticed that the boy was sitting up a little and was looking more alert. “I am to fetch so that you may go through a test of faith.” Jiya stifled a curse.
“I take it that that’s bad.” The red-haired youth said calmly. Tatara couldn’t help but notice a certain dead quality to the Chosen’s eyes that was frightening. And yet… and yet… I am drawn to him and all my soul tells me that he’s a good person.
“The test you are to undergo is to spend the night with the Holy Tigers.” Tatara explained, sensing that the boy would appreciate the full truth. Jiya couldn’t stifle his curses this time, but the boy simply closed his eyes and sighed softly.
“I can think of worse and less useful ways to die.” He said softly. Tatara looked at him tragically. “When am I to go?”
“Now.” Tatara whispered, walking over to the bed and lifted him carefully, since it was obvious that the youth, no more than a boy, couldn’t walk on his own. “I would be honored if I could learn your name.” Tatara said, slightly more conversationally.
“Jiro,” the young one said, then elaborated: “Osugi Jiroshi.”
“Osugi?” Tatara and Jiya asked in unison.
“Ye-es…” Jiro answered hesitantly as he was moved from the room towards the courtroom, “Why do you ask?”
“The Byakko no Miko,” Jiya replied, “was named Osugi Susano.”
“That’s the name of my great-grandmother.” Jiro murmured. Tatara and Jiya exchanged astonished looks.
“The Gods move in mysterious ways” Was all Jiya said. But this info gave Tatara a little more heart. Surely Byakko would not allow His Priestess’ descendant to be killed. Surely.
“It’ll look bad if I don’t walk under my own power.” He said quietly. The priest, Jiya, protested, but the strange man, Tatara, nodded and gently, gently, set Jiro on his feet. Jiro held on to Tatara’s arm and stifled an outcry of pain while he found his balance. The youth may not have broken any bone in his legs, but they had still been injured. The left knee had been dislocated and the right ankle had been severely sprained. Walking will not fun for awhile. He paused for a moment before the courtroom entrance, rallying his courage, and walked in.
The crowd of over-dressed social butterflies erupted into loud, unsubtle whispers; mostly concerning Jiro’s appearance.
“Look at that hair! You could light a room with hair that bright!” I’m well aware of my hair color, thanks.
“Those wounds! Look at those wounds!” I’d rather not, they hurt enough as it is. “Maybe Shintara-sama was right?”
“No, not possible. If this… child is the Shounin, he should have been able to fend off his attackers with his holy powers.” Holy powers? What holy powers? I’m just a junior high school student.
“The poor thing. Look at him limp!” Ah, yes, let’s all stare at the gimp as if we had nothing better to do.
“There’s no way he could be-“ Be what now?
“But maybe he is-?” Is what?
“No-“
“Yes-“
“Hmm-“ …My, aren’t we intelligent.
These and other whispers chased Jiro and his escort all the way up to the throne, where a very fat, ugly, cruel-faced man glared down at the youth. Jiro looked up at him with tired eyes. The fat man’s eyes narrowed further in dislike. Is this the Emperor, Tatara’s father? They look nothing alike. Sort of like my father and I.
“Is this small thing your so-called ‘priest’, Shintara?” The fat man rumbled as Jiro and Tatara stopped just in front of him.
“This is Byakko’s Priest, Lord Father.” Tatara replied neutrally. Jiro noticed that the Warrior’s face was completely devoid of emotion, unlike the face that had been shown to him back in the room.
“Then let us begin testing if your title is correct.” The Emperor said with a tight smile, waddled off of his throne and led the procession to a wing farther away. It felt like miles to Jiro, rather than the several yards it really was; they hadn’t gotten very far out of the courtroom before he had to cling to Tatara’s arm for support. He looked up at the young prince, that brief discussion with the Emperor had brought up a confusing point.
“’Shintara’?” He asked the prince.
“My other name, the one I was given at birth.” Tatara responded, “My real name is Tatara.”
“Ah” Jiro said, falling silent again. His body was screaming at him for moving, demanding that he lie down. Don’t worry, he told his body, I’ll be resting soon. Permanently.
They finally came to a pair of heavy, armored doors decorated with stylized tigers in bas-relief. Deep growls came from the other side of them. Two guards on either side of the doorway bowed deeply to the assembled court. The Emperor waved lazily at them; with another bow, both grabbed the rods the stuck out of narrow slots that were on both sides of the doorway. They pushed the rods back and up, and the growls on the other side gained a new degree of ferocity. There was a grinding noise and a clank, and with another bow, one guard unlocked the doors then the other opened them.
The Emperor ordered one of his bodyguards to escort Jiro into the chamber, but Jiro was already limping forward. Then he stopped before he had gotten more than a few feet; Tatara was holding his good arm, head bowed. Jiro stood there, regarding the prince tiredly, and the prince finally, reluctantly let go, then the youth proceeded again.
As he reached the mouth of the chamber, the two guards bowed yet again, but far more deeply this time.
“Forgive us, Shounin-sama, we…” the guard on the right stopped helplessly.
“What’s there to forgive?” Jiro replied, “I’m being executed by the Emperor. If you didn’t obey, he’d find someone else who would and punish you as well.” Both guards deepened their bow further still and the one on the left let out a chocked sob.
“Stay near the door after we lock it, my lord.” the one on the right managed to say. The youth nodded absently and proceeded to his death.
The light inside was dim, but he saw well enough to see a large board with rods attached to the top corners leading to the slots in the doorway. It was placed a short ways down the hallway and was blocking it effectively. The rods were suddenly pulled back and angled down, forcing the board to lay down towards Jiro. He noticed then that the bottom was hinged onto the floor. The board finally lay flat, and beyond it stood the biggest tiger that Jiro had ever seen. It’s, his shoulder must have risen to the center of Jiro’s chest at the very least.
So you are to be my executioner then, Jiro thought absently. The tiger lower his head and let out a deep growl while taking a single step forward, and with that step the youth was suddenly filled with great and entirely natural fear. From that fear, Jiro suddenly realized that he didn’t yet want to die. He wanted to live, but knew, still, that there was nothing he could do to save himself from the predator that easily weighed five times his weight, probably more.
But just as suddenly as the fear came, it was chased away by a sense of presence. The sight of the tiger was hidden by a huge pair of intensely blue eyes.
#You have nothing to fear, Chosen of Me# a voice that seemed to be speaking in his heart said, #you have nothing to fear.#
It made no sense, Jiro was a mere one hundred thirty pounds, if that, while the biggest, most notorious tiger was well over seven hundred pounds of pure muscle and bone. That tiger was unmatched in current records for its ferocity; all who ventured near it were killed if not rescued, and those rescued were maimed for life. And these are hardened, two hundred pound warriors, not small, slight Priests. Jiro didn’t stand a chance.
And yet… Tatara could only feel nervousness, not the grief or despair that Jiya clearly felt. Rationality stated one thing, irrationality declared another, and the irrationality was winning.
The fact that I’m leaning towards irrationality may be because of my exhaustion. Going through a stressful day then getting no sleep doesn’t make for a properly working brain. He blinked blearily into the thin morning light coming in through the high windows. The light was made even thinner due to the incense smoke swirling around the high ceiling and escaping through those windows. The Temple was well made in that respect, but not in respect for worshipers’ comfort.
Stressful day, sleepless night and that night spent on my knees on a hard wood floor… He rose and heard his back, knees, shoulders and every other joint in his body creak and pop with his movement. He groaned, those pops were not a sign of a happy body. Tatara’s body was going to be even more unhappy with him in little while; not only did he not sleep for over forty hours, not only did he spend the last eight of those hours on his knees but now he was going to walk the great distance from the Alter to the tiger pens on the opposite side of the vast Temple complex? Unforgivable!
Oh, shut up. He thought at his body, then paused in mild confusion; shouldn’t he be fretting over his Shounin and not over himself? Whatever, I’m too tired to think. He walked over to where Jiya was sleeping on a cushioned low platform; the Keeper was too old to spend a night on his knees.
“Come one Jiya-san, it’s time to go,” Tatara said, shaking the old man’s shoulder, “it’s dawn.”
The High Keeper jolted awake and began to grumble incoherently, probably rude things about the hour and the circumstances. While Jiya woke himself up fully, Tatara regarded the image of his God.
The statue of the Tiger was made of ivory and ebony, with pure golden claws and clear sapphire eyes. It was truly enormous, which made the fact that all of the ivory used was from the tusks of elephants that died of natural causes even more impressive (Jiya’s predecessors had been noted humanitarians and lovers of nature).
Finally Jiya was awake enough for them to head over to the tiger pens. They didn’t go swiftly though, why would you want to quickly go to a place where you had nothing to look forward to? But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to be pleasantly surprised. Why is that?
In spite of they’re stalling and slow pace, Tatara and Jiya were the first to arrive, and therefore had to wait for the rest of the court to appear, all the while growing more and more nervous. The rest of the court seemed to have silently agree to take their own sweet time to come, but finally everyone was assembled, the Emperor last of all.
“Open the door,” He commanded as he made his way to the front, “and let us see if this so-called Shounin pleases the image of our God.”
Like that doesn’t have a double meaning attached, Tatara thought sourly, he could mean that Jiro could be pleasing to the God in spirit, or pleasing to the image in taste. Asshole. While the prince thought this, the guards raised the inner barrier and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, it was clear that if anything violent had occurred, it hadn’t happened in the tunnel entrance for the walls and floor were pristine.
Although, come to think of it… Tatara mused while more guards moved forward to create a second barrier as the first was lower, …hadn’t the floor been a little dirty with litter last night? Maybe, but probably not. The prince had to admit to himself that he hadn’t been in the most observant of conditions last night.
The barrier finally dropped and torches were brought forward to illuminate the dark, inner pen. More guards brought and lowered their lances, spears and halberds to reinforce the secondary barrier of weaponry. They were determined to stand between the helpless spectators and the truly vicious man-eater that lay within.
Not that the ‘vicious man-eater’ was all that interested in being vicious or eating men at the moment. He was too busy cuddling the sleeping Shounin.
Just past the primary barrier lay the Shounin, fast asleep curled up against the soft belly of the largest tiger, the one that was reputedly the most vicious beast ever. This vicious beast blinked mildly at the gawking crowd, yawned hugely and then gently liked the tousled hair of his sleeping companion.
Jiro woke slightly and reached up to dig his fingers into the thick ruff fur of the great beast, who chuffed affectionately at the gesture (big cats like tigers and lions can’t purr so they make a chuffing sound instead to indicate affection). The youth roused more and noticed that he was being stared at by a rather large crowd. He sat up, then rose, using both arms easily.
It was at that moment that Tatara noticed the second miracle that Jiro had made in quick succession; all of the youth’s injuries were completely gone, as further evidenced when said youth stood comfortably on both legs, spreading his weight evenly.
The prince couldn’t stand it anymore, “You did it! You did it! You did it!” he cried out, laughing. He rushed forward and grabbed the youth by the waist and spun him around giddily. Jiro stiffened and stared at the prince in shock and confusion.
“Hey stop that!” he yelped, “Knock it off! Put me down! What did I do?”
Tatara set the Shounin down gently, still too flushed with victory to take offense at Jiro’s tone. “You made two miracles occur! Nobody expected you to pull anything off and you make two miracles occur!”
Jiro stared down at his healed arms in confusion and felt the neatly fused bones in the one that had formerly been broken. “But- I- but-,” he stammered, “I didn’t do anything though.”
“Yes you did, simply by being who I know you to be.” Tatara reassured, “You are the Byakko no Shounin, no one can doubt that now.” The tiger rubbed his great head against Jiro’s hip in further reassurance, then went over and bumped against Tatara’s thigh in affection. Greatly daring, the prince reached down and rubbed the beast’s ears, making him rumble and chuff his approval.
This exchange was interrupted however as the tiger suddenly stiffened, peering passed Tatara back towards the crowd. The Emperor approached, trailed closely by the Advisor. The tiger snarled threateningly, which the Emperor ignored completely.
“You see, you see your majesty,” the little rat-man whined, “it is as I told you. To save the whelp and gain importance, the prince has exchanged the proper tiger with a tame one.”
Jiro caught his breath in surprise while Tatara scowled at the meant-to-be-overheard accusation. The tiger also disapproved, as he demonstrated with his behavior. Without warning he leapt past Tatara and swiped the air just in front of the Advisor and roared his displeasure. The viper squealed in fear and ran back to the safety of the guards without a thought to his cultivated dignity. The Emperor stood frozen in shock as the tiger then maneuvered himself between the fat blob of a man and his Warrior and his Priest and roared again in threat.
Tatara glided forward gracefully and laid a gentle hand on the irate beast’s shoulder, hoping to calm him but mainly to show off. “Well Lord Father,” he said smoothly to the stunned Emperor, “is this proof enough for you?”
Disclaimer: I don’t own Fushigi Yuugi, nor do I own the myth behind it. All I own is Jiro and the characters that I have made, not the names that they have. If you’d like to sue me in spite of this, please note that I am a broke college student owned by a cat nick-named Anti-Christ for a reason. If you think that you can win a fight with the Anti-Christ, please feel free to try and do so. I’ll sell the movie rights of your slaughter to the highest bidder.
~*~*~
Jiro woke slowly, trying to make sense of his surroundings, which baffled him. Never before had he woken up to gauzy draperies, or to the feel of soft feather pillows behind him. The pain of a battered body wasn’t new, as his surroundings were, but the extent of the pain was. He groaned as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable, only to awaken more pain.“Ah, please don’t move, your Eminence.” An unknown male said. Jiro was confused. Eminence? Was there some other injured person here? Then the grey-eyed, silver-haired young man came over and gently soothed him. “Please, your Eminence, you mustn’t move. You’ll only aggravate your injuries.” The youth said, his eyes overflowing with worry and concern.
Jiro just stared at him in non-comprehension, “Eminence?” He croaked weakly, “who are you talking about?” The grey-eyed youth cocked his head to the side and blinked at him.
“Why, you, of course. Do you not know the legends?” the youth asked.
“Legends?” Jiro asked back.
“If I may,” came the gruff, deep voice of an older man. “it is written that the Byakko no Miko of our history was equally bewildered, and had no more notion as to what was occurring than the Shounin has.” An old man with hair whitened by age came into Jiro’s field of view. The old man was wearing the robes of a priest and had one of the kindest expressions that Jiro had ever seen. Despite his confusion and apprehension, the newcomer felt himself relaxing due to that expression.
“Young one, have you ever heard of the story of the Priestess of one of the Four Gods?” The priest asked. Jiro shook his head carefully, mindful of his damaged body. “Well, from our histories, the story goes like this: a young woman from the other world comes into this one in some manner to become the Priestess of one of the Gods. It goes in order, Genbu, Byakko, Suzaku, then Seiryuu. For some reason, Genbu seems to have been skipped, so the next God to be served would be Byakko. We knew you were coming, your Celestial Warriors are ready.”
“Celestial Warriors?” Jiro asked.
“There are twenty-eight constellations broken into four groups of seven.” The youth picked up the explanation. “For each of the Gods’ Chosen, there are seven Warriors for the seven constellations. I am Tatara of Byakko’s Seven. And…” He hesitated, then was interrupted by a tap on the door.
“Ouji-sama?” A servant asked meekly, cracking open the door.
“Yes?” Tatara responded, half-turning to give the servant an irritated look.
“Ouji-sama, the Emperor has summoned you, Ouji-sama.” The servant explained. Jiro noticed that the priest and Tatara exchanged serious looks.
“Tell the Emperor that I’ll be there in a moment.” The white-haired youth said as he rose. The servant vanished well before that. Tatara took off the coat he was wearing while the priest went to the side of the room and poured a pitcher of water into a basin. “I hope this isn’t going to be about what I think it’s going to be about.” he muttered.
“Forgive my presumption your highness, but you know it is.” The priest chided with a kind, worried smile.
“Highness? Ouji-sama?” Jiro asked weakly.
“Mm, yes, unfortunately I am the eldest son of the Emperor.” Tatara said as he washed quickly. The priest lifted a rich set of robes out of a chest in a corner of the room and handed them to the prince. “All that means to me is that I have to bother with these nonsensical court gatherings and bear my Lord Father’s suspicions.” the youth sighed.
“And, unfortunately, the Emperor chooses to disbelieve that both of his eldest children are of the Byakko Seven.” the priest said. “And it is a greater misfortune that you are male and not female.”
Jiro stared at him, “What do you mean?”
“The Chosen of Byakko has been a Miko in the past, as have the Chosen of the other Gods.” Tatara explained as he pulled on his overly-fancy court-garb. “Many of the court would rather believe that I am mistaken and that the Chosen of Byakko has yet to appear. The legend says that the Chosen will appear when Byakko’s land is imperiled. Some see the Byakko Seven and the Miko, or in this case Shounin, as figures of ill-omen, and not saviors.”
“Tatara!” The priest scolded.
“Oh” Jiro said weakly. I see, I am despised here too. For some reason, that thought made him relax. Being despised was at least familiar.
“Well, that is one of the things I’m going to try and work on.” The Warrior said, frowning, eyes turned inward in thought, so that he didn’t notice the priest or the Priest. “Jiya, is it settled in the back?” He asked the priest.
“Humph, yes. Splendid as always.” Jiya grumbled.
“It had better be at this point, I’ve had enough practice.” The prince grumbled back. “Wish me luck, I feel I need it.
~*~*~
As it turned out, if one hundred of Jiya’s acolytes had wished him luck, it wouldn’t have been enough. I hate being right some times, Tatara thought as he walked gracefully up to the throne to bow to his Lord Father. Although the problem is, so few people believe that I am right. Tatara’s name was announced with full titles and he bowed to the proper degree, neither too shallow and showing insubordination, nor to deep and seeming to try and gain favor.“My Royal Lord Father.” He said while his head was bowed.
“Prince Shintara.” The fat man on the throne said in reluctant tones, scowling at his son. Shintara/Tatara looked nothing like his father, who was of clear Sairounin breeding. Tatara’s homeland had a clear ethnicity type, dark hair, dark eyes and dusky skin. Tatara had stormy grey eyes, silvery white hair and had skin that was fairer than the rest of the court’s. According to legend, this also pointed him out as one of the Celestial Warriors, for only those born to a legendary destiny were thus marked out.
But all this did was make Tatara’s father despise him more. The prince didn’t know why his father didn’t like him, not really. Maybe the Emperor had wanted to be more special than just being Emperor, maybe he didn’t want to be Emperor of a restless period; either cause would have made him dislike the sign of what he did not have. Tatara didn’t pretend to know which cause it was, or if there might be more causes. But whatever it was, the youth resented it; it got in the way of his doing the job his Deity had given him.
“Shintara,” the Emperor growled again, “we have been informed that during your little hunt yesterday, you picked up something other than game.”
“This is true, my Lord.” Tatara answered, deciding that truth and cooperation would be the best ploy this time. “I picked up two things to be precise. One of them was a young bandit. I presumed to instruct my Lord’s jailer to extract information from him. I felt that the best way to locate other bandit bands was to have one of that number lead our land’s soldiers to them.”
“Well enough.” The Emperor grumbled, not showing whether he approved or disapproved, “What of the other… thing?”
“Would you be referring to the Byakko no Shounin, whom I rescued, my Lord?” Tatara said daringly. The entire court went into a frenzy of shocked whispers; the nobles of the court did love being shocked and scandalized. The prince pretended not to notice, watching his Lord Father through half-lidded eyes. The Emperor scowled deeply, and the little, richly dressed man standing just beneath and to the right of the throne leaned up to whisper to the Emperor. Tatara struggled not to scowl himself. How he hated that little worm!
“Enough,” the Emperor growled to the court. The nobles were still too busy being shocked to hear him. “Enough! Silence!!” He bellowed. The richly appointed, vaulted courtroom fell silent. The Emperor harrumphed to himself, then said, “We are not convinced that the thing you picked up could possibly be what you say it is. What proof can you offer?” Tatara mentally flinched.
“Only the proofs that, when under duress from the bandits, an intense white light radiated from the Byakko no Shounin.” Tatara said, “The same has been recorded as happening within the first month of the Byakko no Miko’s appearance. This phenomena was not only witnessed by myself, but by all whom accompanied me on the hunt yesterday.”
“We do not consider that proof enough.” The Emperor rumbled, as Tatara feared he would, but had hoped he wouldn’t. “Can you give us other proofs?”
“Simply this, that I was aware that the Byakko no Shounin was imperiled, in spite of the fact that there was no way I possibly could have under normal circumstances. The Shounin was much too far away for me to hear, see or otherwise sense him.” Tatara said. Then he prayed silently.
“That too, is simply not enough. What other proofs can you offer me that the world has gone mad and that the chosen representative of the god is a man and not the woman we were promised?” The Emperor snarled down at Tatara, eyes gleaming in triumph. He knew, or thought he did, that Tatara had nothing else.
“There is this,” The young prince said, pulling out a scroll, “this is a direct copy of the holy scroll given to us by Taiitsukun. Upon reading it, I noticed that all of the terms referring to the Chosen of Byakko are non-gender specific. To be precise, it says that one of the other world would come to serve and summon Byakko. I can only assume-”
“Would you have us believe,” the Emperor interrupted, “that you, a mere whelp, are better in translating the ancient tongue than over a dozen learned scholars?” the Emperor scoffed. “We do not believe this. Nor do we believe that you will ever produce enough evidence to satisfy us. We declare that this so-called Shounin is an imposter and a liar. Further, he is a traitor, trying to seduce and betray the prince with his lies. We therefore declare that he is to be executed!”
Tatara swallowed his panic and breathed deeply, trying to settle himself into a soothing attitude. “My Lord, how can the youth you declare to be a traitor and a danger be so when he is too badly injured to even walk?” The court that had been murmuring in shock renewed its murmurs. “Indeed, had I not appeared when I did to rescue him, he would even now be dead. He had neither the energy nor the time to seduce my senses; he fell unconscious within moments of my reaching him. And if you feel my word is not enough, question any whom accompanied me the prior day.”
The Emperor scowled even more fiercely than before, and listened intently to the advisor by his knee. “We do not want to seem barbaric, so we will propose a test of faith.” Tatara stifled a scowl of his own; all the faith tests he knew of were more barbaric than a simple execution and usually just as lethal.
“I fear that that test will have to be postponed, for the Shounin is simply too injured and weak to accomplish even the least of them. This you may see for yourself if you so choose, my Lord.” Tatara said, hoping to buy time to think up a counter to this. The Advisor studied the prince with a predetorial stare; the kind a snake gives a rat after it has injected a lethal amount of venom. The Advisor’s triumph in this was only a matter of time.
“Perhaps I have a solution, Lord Father, Lord Brother.” came a lofty female voice from a small side entrance to the courtroom. All attention was riveted to the entrance and the figure therein. It was Shinalla, Shintara’s twin sister. She had the same white hair and silver eyes as Tatara, denoting her heritage as Subaru of the Byakko Seven. But unlike Tatara, she had no use for her Celestial destiny, and was therefore their father’s favorite. Right now it looked like she was going to reinforce that, her nose was in the air and she looked down upon her slightly younger brother with a haughty smirk. In spite of that smirk, she was still incredibly beautiful, and she knew it.
“I,” She announced, “have a perfect idea. One that will test the faith of this ‘Shounin’ of Brother’s, and will tax him not at all.” She waltzed up to the dais to her father.
#Subaru, what are you doing?# Tatara thought at her fiercely, using the ability that only they had, silent speech.
#Don’t use that name, I’m Shinalla! And don’t worry, dear little brother, if this ‘Shounin’ is what you claim he is, he won’t be harmed at all.# She replied silently, frowning at her brother.
“What is this idea that you are giving us?” The Celestial twin’s father asked ponderously.
“It’s quite simple really.” She said lazily, “We bring this Shounin into the Holy Tigers’ pen and leave him there over night.” She paused to allow the effect of her statement to sweep the room. “The Great White Tiger would hardly allow His earthly incarnation to harm His chosen priest. But an imposter would be rent limb from limb.” She smiled endearingly over the entire court then fondly up at her father. “It couldn’t possibly be simpler and requires no effort at all from this ‘Shounin’. Who could possible protest?”
I can protest, Tatara thought as his mouth dried with fear. The Holy Temple’s tigers were used for troublesome executions and were completely ruthless and bloodthirsty. That small youth will be brutalized within the first ten minutes, let alone a whole night. #Subaru, how could you? Can you not feel the pull? This is our Priest!#
#My name is Shinalla, and I feel nothing. I never will, for this Chosen will not come.#
#Subaru!# The Emperor in the mean time declared his daughter’s notion to be brilliant and that it would be enacted immediately. Tatara shook himself out of shock and protested as best he could, then when that failed, tried to delay the sentence from that very evening to some later day, when the ‘Shounin’ was more healed. Failing even in this, Shintara was sent to fetch his ‘Shounin’ for the test, his protests completely ignored. The prince had no option but to do as he was ordered.
I don’t even know his name! I never asked him, I wanted to reassure him when he woke, not interrogate him, the Warrior thought as he walked back. He soon reached the room he had chosen for the Shounin and woodenly reached out to open the door. Jiya immediately stood to greet the prince, then slumped at Tatara’s expression.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?” The old Keeper asked.
“Very,” Tatara said solemnly. He noticed that the boy was sitting up a little and was looking more alert. “I am to fetch so that you may go through a test of faith.” Jiya stifled a curse.
“I take it that that’s bad.” The red-haired youth said calmly. Tatara couldn’t help but notice a certain dead quality to the Chosen’s eyes that was frightening. And yet… and yet… I am drawn to him and all my soul tells me that he’s a good person.
“The test you are to undergo is to spend the night with the Holy Tigers.” Tatara explained, sensing that the boy would appreciate the full truth. Jiya couldn’t stifle his curses this time, but the boy simply closed his eyes and sighed softly.
“I can think of worse and less useful ways to die.” He said softly. Tatara looked at him tragically. “When am I to go?”
“Now.” Tatara whispered, walking over to the bed and lifted him carefully, since it was obvious that the youth, no more than a boy, couldn’t walk on his own. “I would be honored if I could learn your name.” Tatara said, slightly more conversationally.
“Jiro,” the young one said, then elaborated: “Osugi Jiroshi.”
“Osugi?” Tatara and Jiya asked in unison.
“Ye-es…” Jiro answered hesitantly as he was moved from the room towards the courtroom, “Why do you ask?”
“The Byakko no Miko,” Jiya replied, “was named Osugi Susano.”
“That’s the name of my great-grandmother.” Jiro murmured. Tatara and Jiya exchanged astonished looks.
“The Gods move in mysterious ways” Was all Jiya said. But this info gave Tatara a little more heart. Surely Byakko would not allow His Priestess’ descendant to be killed. Surely.
~*~*~
When the three neared the courtroom, Jiro asked to be set down.“It’ll look bad if I don’t walk under my own power.” He said quietly. The priest, Jiya, protested, but the strange man, Tatara, nodded and gently, gently, set Jiro on his feet. Jiro held on to Tatara’s arm and stifled an outcry of pain while he found his balance. The youth may not have broken any bone in his legs, but they had still been injured. The left knee had been dislocated and the right ankle had been severely sprained. Walking will not fun for awhile. He paused for a moment before the courtroom entrance, rallying his courage, and walked in.
The crowd of over-dressed social butterflies erupted into loud, unsubtle whispers; mostly concerning Jiro’s appearance.
“Look at that hair! You could light a room with hair that bright!” I’m well aware of my hair color, thanks.
“Those wounds! Look at those wounds!” I’d rather not, they hurt enough as it is. “Maybe Shintara-sama was right?”
“No, not possible. If this… child is the Shounin, he should have been able to fend off his attackers with his holy powers.” Holy powers? What holy powers? I’m just a junior high school student.
“The poor thing. Look at him limp!” Ah, yes, let’s all stare at the gimp as if we had nothing better to do.
“There’s no way he could be-“ Be what now?
“But maybe he is-?” Is what?
“No-“
“Yes-“
“Hmm-“ …My, aren’t we intelligent.
These and other whispers chased Jiro and his escort all the way up to the throne, where a very fat, ugly, cruel-faced man glared down at the youth. Jiro looked up at him with tired eyes. The fat man’s eyes narrowed further in dislike. Is this the Emperor, Tatara’s father? They look nothing alike. Sort of like my father and I.
“Is this small thing your so-called ‘priest’, Shintara?” The fat man rumbled as Jiro and Tatara stopped just in front of him.
“This is Byakko’s Priest, Lord Father.” Tatara replied neutrally. Jiro noticed that the Warrior’s face was completely devoid of emotion, unlike the face that had been shown to him back in the room.
“Then let us begin testing if your title is correct.” The Emperor said with a tight smile, waddled off of his throne and led the procession to a wing farther away. It felt like miles to Jiro, rather than the several yards it really was; they hadn’t gotten very far out of the courtroom before he had to cling to Tatara’s arm for support. He looked up at the young prince, that brief discussion with the Emperor had brought up a confusing point.
“’Shintara’?” He asked the prince.
“My other name, the one I was given at birth.” Tatara responded, “My real name is Tatara.”
“Ah” Jiro said, falling silent again. His body was screaming at him for moving, demanding that he lie down. Don’t worry, he told his body, I’ll be resting soon. Permanently.
They finally came to a pair of heavy, armored doors decorated with stylized tigers in bas-relief. Deep growls came from the other side of them. Two guards on either side of the doorway bowed deeply to the assembled court. The Emperor waved lazily at them; with another bow, both grabbed the rods the stuck out of narrow slots that were on both sides of the doorway. They pushed the rods back and up, and the growls on the other side gained a new degree of ferocity. There was a grinding noise and a clank, and with another bow, one guard unlocked the doors then the other opened them.
The Emperor ordered one of his bodyguards to escort Jiro into the chamber, but Jiro was already limping forward. Then he stopped before he had gotten more than a few feet; Tatara was holding his good arm, head bowed. Jiro stood there, regarding the prince tiredly, and the prince finally, reluctantly let go, then the youth proceeded again.
As he reached the mouth of the chamber, the two guards bowed yet again, but far more deeply this time.
“Forgive us, Shounin-sama, we…” the guard on the right stopped helplessly.
“What’s there to forgive?” Jiro replied, “I’m being executed by the Emperor. If you didn’t obey, he’d find someone else who would and punish you as well.” Both guards deepened their bow further still and the one on the left let out a chocked sob.
“Stay near the door after we lock it, my lord.” the one on the right managed to say. The youth nodded absently and proceeded to his death.
The light inside was dim, but he saw well enough to see a large board with rods attached to the top corners leading to the slots in the doorway. It was placed a short ways down the hallway and was blocking it effectively. The rods were suddenly pulled back and angled down, forcing the board to lay down towards Jiro. He noticed then that the bottom was hinged onto the floor. The board finally lay flat, and beyond it stood the biggest tiger that Jiro had ever seen. It’s, his shoulder must have risen to the center of Jiro’s chest at the very least.
So you are to be my executioner then, Jiro thought absently. The tiger lower his head and let out a deep growl while taking a single step forward, and with that step the youth was suddenly filled with great and entirely natural fear. From that fear, Jiro suddenly realized that he didn’t yet want to die. He wanted to live, but knew, still, that there was nothing he could do to save himself from the predator that easily weighed five times his weight, probably more.
But just as suddenly as the fear came, it was chased away by a sense of presence. The sight of the tiger was hidden by a huge pair of intensely blue eyes.
#You have nothing to fear, Chosen of Me# a voice that seemed to be speaking in his heart said, #you have nothing to fear.#
~*~*~
Tatara had spent the entrie night in the Temple of Byakko with High Keeper Jiya, praying for Jiro's saftey with all his might. The way they prayed though was different, Jiya was mostly praying for Jiro's soul, but Tatara couldn't do that because he couldn't lose hope. It didn’t matter that there was no logical way that Jiro could live, each time that Tatara began to despair, something welled up in him to chase away his doubt, whispering that everything would be alright.It made no sense, Jiro was a mere one hundred thirty pounds, if that, while the biggest, most notorious tiger was well over seven hundred pounds of pure muscle and bone. That tiger was unmatched in current records for its ferocity; all who ventured near it were killed if not rescued, and those rescued were maimed for life. And these are hardened, two hundred pound warriors, not small, slight Priests. Jiro didn’t stand a chance.
And yet… Tatara could only feel nervousness, not the grief or despair that Jiya clearly felt. Rationality stated one thing, irrationality declared another, and the irrationality was winning.
The fact that I’m leaning towards irrationality may be because of my exhaustion. Going through a stressful day then getting no sleep doesn’t make for a properly working brain. He blinked blearily into the thin morning light coming in through the high windows. The light was made even thinner due to the incense smoke swirling around the high ceiling and escaping through those windows. The Temple was well made in that respect, but not in respect for worshipers’ comfort.
Stressful day, sleepless night and that night spent on my knees on a hard wood floor… He rose and heard his back, knees, shoulders and every other joint in his body creak and pop with his movement. He groaned, those pops were not a sign of a happy body. Tatara’s body was going to be even more unhappy with him in little while; not only did he not sleep for over forty hours, not only did he spend the last eight of those hours on his knees but now he was going to walk the great distance from the Alter to the tiger pens on the opposite side of the vast Temple complex? Unforgivable!
Oh, shut up. He thought at his body, then paused in mild confusion; shouldn’t he be fretting over his Shounin and not over himself? Whatever, I’m too tired to think. He walked over to where Jiya was sleeping on a cushioned low platform; the Keeper was too old to spend a night on his knees.
“Come one Jiya-san, it’s time to go,” Tatara said, shaking the old man’s shoulder, “it’s dawn.”
The High Keeper jolted awake and began to grumble incoherently, probably rude things about the hour and the circumstances. While Jiya woke himself up fully, Tatara regarded the image of his God.
The statue of the Tiger was made of ivory and ebony, with pure golden claws and clear sapphire eyes. It was truly enormous, which made the fact that all of the ivory used was from the tusks of elephants that died of natural causes even more impressive (Jiya’s predecessors had been noted humanitarians and lovers of nature).
Finally Jiya was awake enough for them to head over to the tiger pens. They didn’t go swiftly though, why would you want to quickly go to a place where you had nothing to look forward to? But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to be pleasantly surprised. Why is that?
In spite of they’re stalling and slow pace, Tatara and Jiya were the first to arrive, and therefore had to wait for the rest of the court to appear, all the while growing more and more nervous. The rest of the court seemed to have silently agree to take their own sweet time to come, but finally everyone was assembled, the Emperor last of all.
“Open the door,” He commanded as he made his way to the front, “and let us see if this so-called Shounin pleases the image of our God.”
Like that doesn’t have a double meaning attached, Tatara thought sourly, he could mean that Jiro could be pleasing to the God in spirit, or pleasing to the image in taste. Asshole. While the prince thought this, the guards raised the inner barrier and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, it was clear that if anything violent had occurred, it hadn’t happened in the tunnel entrance for the walls and floor were pristine.
Although, come to think of it… Tatara mused while more guards moved forward to create a second barrier as the first was lower, …hadn’t the floor been a little dirty with litter last night? Maybe, but probably not. The prince had to admit to himself that he hadn’t been in the most observant of conditions last night.
The barrier finally dropped and torches were brought forward to illuminate the dark, inner pen. More guards brought and lowered their lances, spears and halberds to reinforce the secondary barrier of weaponry. They were determined to stand between the helpless spectators and the truly vicious man-eater that lay within.
Not that the ‘vicious man-eater’ was all that interested in being vicious or eating men at the moment. He was too busy cuddling the sleeping Shounin.
Just past the primary barrier lay the Shounin, fast asleep curled up against the soft belly of the largest tiger, the one that was reputedly the most vicious beast ever. This vicious beast blinked mildly at the gawking crowd, yawned hugely and then gently liked the tousled hair of his sleeping companion.
Jiro woke slightly and reached up to dig his fingers into the thick ruff fur of the great beast, who chuffed affectionately at the gesture (big cats like tigers and lions can’t purr so they make a chuffing sound instead to indicate affection). The youth roused more and noticed that he was being stared at by a rather large crowd. He sat up, then rose, using both arms easily.
It was at that moment that Tatara noticed the second miracle that Jiro had made in quick succession; all of the youth’s injuries were completely gone, as further evidenced when said youth stood comfortably on both legs, spreading his weight evenly.
The prince couldn’t stand it anymore, “You did it! You did it! You did it!” he cried out, laughing. He rushed forward and grabbed the youth by the waist and spun him around giddily. Jiro stiffened and stared at the prince in shock and confusion.
“Hey stop that!” he yelped, “Knock it off! Put me down! What did I do?”
Tatara set the Shounin down gently, still too flushed with victory to take offense at Jiro’s tone. “You made two miracles occur! Nobody expected you to pull anything off and you make two miracles occur!”
Jiro stared down at his healed arms in confusion and felt the neatly fused bones in the one that had formerly been broken. “But- I- but-,” he stammered, “I didn’t do anything though.”
“Yes you did, simply by being who I know you to be.” Tatara reassured, “You are the Byakko no Shounin, no one can doubt that now.” The tiger rubbed his great head against Jiro’s hip in further reassurance, then went over and bumped against Tatara’s thigh in affection. Greatly daring, the prince reached down and rubbed the beast’s ears, making him rumble and chuff his approval.
This exchange was interrupted however as the tiger suddenly stiffened, peering passed Tatara back towards the crowd. The Emperor approached, trailed closely by the Advisor. The tiger snarled threateningly, which the Emperor ignored completely.
“You see, you see your majesty,” the little rat-man whined, “it is as I told you. To save the whelp and gain importance, the prince has exchanged the proper tiger with a tame one.”
Jiro caught his breath in surprise while Tatara scowled at the meant-to-be-overheard accusation. The tiger also disapproved, as he demonstrated with his behavior. Without warning he leapt past Tatara and swiped the air just in front of the Advisor and roared his displeasure. The viper squealed in fear and ran back to the safety of the guards without a thought to his cultivated dignity. The Emperor stood frozen in shock as the tiger then maneuvered himself between the fat blob of a man and his Warrior and his Priest and roared again in threat.
Tatara glided forward gracefully and laid a gentle hand on the irate beast’s shoulder, hoping to calm him but mainly to show off. “Well Lord Father,” he said smoothly to the stunned Emperor, “is this proof enough for you?”