Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Byakko no... Shounin? ❯ Road Trip! ( Chapter 4 )

A.N.: Quick thing I'd like to point out; I'm a college student who has to take twelve units minimum if I wish to have health insurance. I work roughly eighteen hours each week, and I have duties as the VP of my club. Further, I have four other fics I'm actively working on and cannot ignore for the same reasons I can't ignore this fic; i.e.: the fans. I will try and update at least once a month, but don't count on it. But I will not abandon this fic. That simply won't happen. If in the unlikely event that I am completely unable to continue this fic, I will let all of you know and ask for someone to pick up where I left off. As I said, this is HIGHLY unlikely; progress here may be slow, but it'll be progress.

 

I have every intention of becoming a published writer at some nebulous point in the future and I consider this very valuable practice. Any and all feedback and criticism is wanted and welcome. Once upon I time I wrote because I had an idea I wanted to get down. Now I write because of reviews. My speed in getting a chap out is directly proportional to the amount of reviews I get! #wink# Anyway, on with the fic!

~*~*~

Jiro sat on the bed of the rather opulent room he'd been given, hunched over in deep thought. Nothing was as he would have thought. He had reluctantly come to the conclusion that not only was this not a dream, it wasn't a hallucination either. Which meant that all that he was currently going through was real. That he was, in fact, being worshiped as a holy being, the Chosen representative of the local deity.

 

Utter insanity. But still, it was, the giant tiger currently pillowing his great head on his human's feet proved this. The local deity was the Great White Tiger, Byakko, and his creatures were naturally the more mundane orange tigers. The fact that Tora-kun (Jiro hadn't bothered to come up with a more creative name) was as loyal as a dog to Jiro and Jiro alone was only proof of the youth's exalted status. At least according to Tatara, who had been on cloud nine since the `miracle'.

 

Jiro still wasn't sure about all this, but his logic driven mind couldn't dispute the facts. Fact one: he wasn't in Tokyo, the main island Honshu, Japan or even in a time period that he recognized anymore. Fact two: upon coming to this odd time and/or place, he had been grievously injured and no longer was over the course of a single night, a thing that was quite clearly (he hated to think the word) miraculous. Fact three: the tiger at his feet was not only reputed, but recorded to be a ruthless man-eater.

 

Jiro glanced down at the beast who had rolled over and was now silently begging for a belly-rub. Against his better judgment, Jiro obliged him. Man-eater, right. Unless `man' is another word for pig in this place. Jiro sighed heavily and brought his arm back up so that he could cross his hands under his chin again as he resumed his introspection. Tora-kun had been a man-eater, but clearly no longer was, the second part of the `miracle' that led to Jiro's current status as Byakko no Shounin.

 

But that `miracle' alone wouldn't have permitted him his status; there was another part to it, or rather, two people. Shintara, called Tatara, and Shinalla, called Subaru. Both of the Imperial twins were Celestial Warriors with the power that their God had granted them. Tatara's power lay in his phenomenal combative skill, especially with ranged weapons. Whatever he aimed for that was within range, he hit. Every time.

 

No one can do that, it's simply not possible. Except for Tatara it seemed, Jiro had seen him. Subaru now, or rather Shinalla as she preferred to be called, her power was different. Tatara said she threw tantrums. Well, she threw things alright, especially if her brother called her by her Celestial name. She didn't even have to touch the object she chucked at her brother's head, and the angrier she got, larger and heavier the object was.

 

Jiro had witnessed a fight between the two of them three days ago, five days after the `miracle'. The young Priest would have scoffed at the person who claimed that an eighty pound marble pillar could be lifted and thrown with the power of a young woman's mind alone, but that was what he had seen. Good thing Tatara's good at dodging.

 

So that would be fact four: the power of the Celestial warriors. And now I have to go out in search of the other five. Looking for the other five… It wasn't going to be easy. The first thing Tatara had done after the `miracle', aside from sleep for eighteen hours, was to begin making arrangements for their quest, since of course he was going along with his Shounin. The Emperor, of course, wasn't cooperating, but Tatara was successfully talking him down.

 

We leave tomorrow. They'd be traveling on horse-back, a thing that Jiro was dreading, and their first stop was going to be the estate of one of the sympathetic nobles to acquire a commoner guide/assistant. That was Jiya's idea.

 

“The Shounin is new to this world and doesn't know it; and when was the last time you ever haggled for something at the market place Tatara?” the High Keeper had said.

 

“Uuuhhhh……” the Warrior had replied.

 

“Exactly, you need someone to assist you and purchase things for you so you don't get gulled out of every last zenny before you're a month out, and it can't be me!”

 

Jiro sighed again, which caused Tora-kun to sit up and cock his head at his master. The gesture teased a slight smile to Jiro's lips, but it quickly died. The youth acknowledged the fact that he was in another world where Gods, miracles and holy powers were a reality; he acknowledged the fact that for some reason, probably drug-induced, he was the Shounin of the immediate region's God and he even acknowledged the fact that he was needed to gather the other five Celestial Warriors.

 

But this acknowledgement still didn't make him happy, nor permit him to be content with being here. How could he be content in a place where the residents saw him as a freak? All he had to do was set one foot in the courtroom, and he knew he was as much an unaccepted outsider here as he was at home. Not that it was any better there.

 

Even though he was unhappy here, going home held zero appeal as well. At least here there are people who respect me, or rather, they respect what I represent. That was the crux of the problem, Jiro was a symbol again. At home he was the symbol of the invading West, foreigners and foreign ways that clashed and destroyed native values.

 

It had taken him awhile to figure it out, but that's the conclusion he had come to; his red hair and blue-green eyes marked him as being of the blood of the Barbarian West. Even if his age-group didn't know why they and their parents disliked him, the adults probably knew at a subconscious level at least. And didn't care.

 

Here, he was a different symbol, but a symbol and not a person none the less. He represented the God's interference in the mortal world, for good or ill; he represented change, which was never well embraced; he represented the coming of disaster, for why should he be here if not to, hopefully, waylay it? He represented many things to many people, but there was one thing he didn't represent; himself.

 

No one, not even the so-noble, so-attentive Tatara, saw Jiroshi. All they saw was the Byakko no Shounin. Jiro squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to block out the old pain, then let all the air out of his lungs in a #wuff# as Tora-kun head-butted his stomach gently.

 

He couldn't help but smile, however sadly, at that. “No matter what the others think of me or see me as, you like me at least.” He murmured to the big cat who groaned back as Jiro scratched the beast's ears. The tiger lay his head in the youth's lap and looked up soulfully then chuffed his affection.

 

Well, here's one reason to stay, I wasn't permitted a pet at home, and the few people who were kind to me rarely had time to spend with me. In this world, I have a pet, a strange one, but still a loving pet; and the people who are kind to me are the ones who spend the most time near me. This world was at least that much more attractive, and it was different. Different was scary, but there was hope attached to it was well.

 

The only hope that Jiro had for his life back home was to get into S High School then transfer to a university in another nation, one where red-heads were common, or at least not rare and looked askance of. Change, and something different; that was all he could hope for.

 

“So I may as well accept difference and change here than at home, huh Tora-kun?” The tiger lazily opened the eyes he had closed to look up at his master and whuffed softly in answer. Jiro continued to rub the beast's ears and heaved a sigh that wasn't as heavily laden with depression as his earlier sighs had been.

 

He still wasn't happy here, and didn't anticipate ever being happy; being at the bottom of the social hierarchy for the bulk of your life didn't lend to optimism. But he felt that he could give this world a chance and see what came of it. After all, the worst thing that could happen was for him to get killed.

 

Jiro ideally turned over one wrist to cynically eye the two parallel scars that decorated it; one scar clearly older than the other. Death holds no fear for me, so it being the worst possible outcome isn't much of a deterrent. After all, I accepted death as an alternative a long time ago. Why should I fear something that I had willingly embraced?

~*~*~

Mid-Story Authors Notes

One reviewer thought that I was overplaying the prejudice and its effects; let me assure you, I do not believe I am. And if you feel that I'm overplaying Jiro's depression… Once upon a time I was very nearly in his shoes and if the twin factors of me being a coward and my parents being saints hadn't stopped me, you wouldn't be reading this right now, for I wouldn't BE here right now. The pain of being alone and friendless is very real and very strong. Prejudice is also very real and very strong. The prejudice I suffered from was probably the mildest of its kind, that of being a newcomer with zero social skills; a thing that was remedied with time.

I do not believe that I'm overplaying this, I may perhaps be underplaying it, since even though Jiro attempted suicide, he didn't go all the way through, and there are many people for whom that cannot be said, with prejudice of whatever variety being the cause.

Gomen ne for the morbidity. I wanted to get the proper feel across, and this was the best way I could think of, I'll try and do better in future.

Arigatou for your patience. Let the tale continue.

~*~*~

Nakago, or rather, his soul, looked over the valley that lay under the mountain cave in which he was bound. Within lay the re-energized Shinza-ho of his Priestess and God. He had been bound to guard it, least it be ill-used as it once had been.

 

The Four Gods had been displeased that Genbu had been summoned so early, and by Seiryuu's Miko no less! So They had decided that the incident should be erased, that things should be put back as they had been. So the Shinza-ho of Seiryuu and Suzaku had been filled with Their essence again.

 

Nakago glared ruefully at the ornate necklace at the back of the cavern. His soul was bound to guard the necklace that was Yui's while Chichiri and Tasuki were given Miaka's ring. They were free to wander where they willed, but he was bound to one place, possibly for centuries, until his duty was done.

 

Genbu was weakened from being summoned early and so had to pass his turn to Byakko as the next to be served. But since an order still had to be followed, the Great Tortoise would be served just after Byakko.

 

Nakago didn't know the how's or why's of it, nor did he care. He'd been stuck in the cave for fifty years already and saw no end of his vigil. The only entertainment he had were those fools who thought to steal the thing he guarded. The bones littering the floor showed how well they had faired.

 

Spirits can't sigh, lacking the lungs needed for the expression, but Nakago managed something like it. A little over a week ago, he had felt something stir within the fabric that he was now a part of. He wasn't entirely certain what it was, but he had a guess.

 

His guess was that a new Miko had entered the world. The coming may mean the end of his vigil, or it might not. He cared little, what would come, would come. He no longer believed in hope, only in what was or was not. If the Miko appeared before him, he would test her and let her take the Shinza-ho or not, depending on whether or not she was worthy of it. But for now…

 

Feh, more fools are coming. When will these moronic treasure seekers ever learn? Nakago made himself fade from view as a party of four tomb-robbers marched up the side of the mountain seeking the invaluable Shinza-ho of legend. If they were lucky, they'd escaped maimed, and physically and emotionally scarred for life. If not…

 

More bones shall decorate the place of my existence to warn off those fools who don't heed any other kind of warning. Still, killing the idiots was something to do that spiced up Nakago's dull `life'. For the very first time in his entire existence, he honestly wished that he had someone to talk to. Why only he of the six dead Seiryuu warriors was chosen to stand guard he didn't know. It was Seiryuu's will, thus it was.

 

I guess this is hell; the boredom is certainly torturous enough for it. Even killing the treasure hunters is getting monotonous. After the third robber fell and the forth fled screaming, leaving an arm behind, Nakago felt a twinge. It wasn't the full-on sense of something coming that had happened several days ago, but more of a promise that something would come.

 

The lingering Seiryuu Seishi crushed the necks of his victims with his heightened power to insure their death and stared out to the North, where the twinge had come from. The last feel had come from the West, Byakko's country. Have the next two Miko's come? And so near in time, nearer than Yui and that twit Miaka. I wonder if there will be war between them as there was with the Suzaku Seishi and mine. If there is, perhaps things will grow… interesting.

 

His insubstantial lips curled up in his mockery of a smile. He could sense tension over there, between the two nations. Kutou had learned its lesson, and Konan was inherently peaceful. But perhaps the other two nations needed to give themselves lessons in the futility of war. Interesting indeed.

~*~*~

Kauji was having a bad day. Make that a bad… three years now? His family, emigrants from Hokkan, was poor and to lessen the strain on them he had headed off to make his own way. Unfortunately the only way he could feed himself was if he used his natural fighting abilities and join a gang of bandits. He picked the wrong gang to join, and knew it, but hadn't been able to back out.

 

So that led him up to that misfortunate encounter with the red-head with the archer guardian. That the archer was the Imperial Prince and the red-head the Byakko no Shounin was only more unfortunate. Still, he'd been able to lie, wheedle and butt-kiss his jailors into a false sense of security, enabling him to escape.

 

I knew I should have headed north. Why did I head south? If I hadn't gone south, I wouldn't be here right now. `Here' was on the ground. On his back, weaponless. With the afore mentioned archer and red-head staring down at him, the former on foot, the latter on horse-back. And him, staring up into the partly opened mouth of the biggest damned tiger he had ever seen.

 

Oh Gods, I'm sorry for my many sins, well except for spiking Einke's drink that one time. Oh and stabbing that one rich bastard in the ass, that was funny. And smacking that one girl upside the head, she was asking for it. But aside from that, I am so, so, so sorry…

 

The tiger sneezed, ew, but Kauji only whimpered, then whined even more determinedly when he saw the archer string his bow and pull an arrow out of his quiver.

 

“You do realize the penalty of escaping from prison, do you not?” The Prince drawled, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

 

“Uh, no actually,” Kauji babbled in high-pitched nervous tone, “ya see, I ain't actually frum `round here an'- Nice kitty!” The tiger yawned widely, if I live through this, I need to get a new pair of pants, and snapped his huge jaws close with a click.

 

“The penalty for escaping is immediate execution upon recapture.” The archer explained, smirking at the bandit's obvious fear, “I see no reason why I cannot fulfill that now.” He nocked his arrow and drew it slightly

 

“I c'n! I c'n see plenty a' reason!” Kauji yelped, temporarily forgetting the big, big kitty with its big, big teeth in the more immediate fear of the sharp pointy object aimed at his neck. “Ya see, I never really killed no one as didn' try an' kill me, just thrashed `em a li'l and stole from `em!”

 

“I find that difficult to believe.” The archer said, drawing the arrow taunt.

 

“It's true! It's true!” the bandit whimpered, “I ain't never killed no one as was innocent! An' I had ta' steal ta' live an'- Oh Gods, don' eat me…” Tora-kun was panting slightly in the heat, giving the bandit a very excellent view of the beast's dental work.

~*~*~

Tatara lowered his bow slightly; the bandit's words had a faint ring of truth to them. Sairo was a hard land, dry with very little farming for the main part.

 

That was why there were so many bandits. The only real wealth came through trade via the Western coast and the rivers. If you weren't involved in trade some way, odds were that you were broke. Or a thief. Which is still a crime, and he did escape from prison.

 

“Sorry, murderer or thief, you still broke the law and are still sentenced to death.” Tatara announced, raising his bow again.

 

“HHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” Said the bandit, staring wide-eyed in fear at the drawn bow.

 

“Tatara, stop.” A calm voice said from behind the prince. Jiro-sama? Tatara turned around to stare at his Shounin in shocked surprise. The youth was sitting calmly on the placid mare that he had been given, staring down at the bandit and tiger.

 

“Your Eminence, I don't und-“

 

“Don't call me that,” Jiro interrupted dispassionately, “and look closely at Tora-kun.” Tatara obeyed in confusion, and looked at the tiger.

 

“I fear I don't understand.” The Warrior admitted, “The beast is doing nothing of note.”

 

“Precisely, Tora-kun isn't growling, snarling or in any other way menacing the bandit. If the man was a genuine threat, don't you think that Tora-kun would have killed him already?” The bandit whimpered, and Tatara felt a head-ache coming on. He had had a rough day from the very beginning, starting off with the tiger itself.

 

He had wanted to leave the beast behind, but despite all the measures that the prince had gone to, including caging the feline, Tora-kun had escaped to join up with them. On the last attempt that Tatara had made, he had felt that he'd finally succeeded. But no, just outside the capital, along came Tora-kun, trotting up to meet them, `maur'-ing in displeasure at being left behind.

 

The second thing to go wrong was the fact that they were unable to acquire their guide. When Tatara had led Jiro up to the estate that was supposed to supply the man they needed, the gates had been barred with a `Plague' seal applied to the gate lock. No use even trying to get in.

 

The Warrior was forced to lead his Priest back to that capital to see if they couldn't find another man to aid them, and then Tora-kun had bolted off and tackled someone skulking just off the dry, dusty road. Which naturally led up to the current state of affairs.

 

“Your Em-, I mean, Jiro-sama,” Tatara began, “I fear that regardless of how your tiger behaves, the law is the law, and I cannot just-“

 

“If a man stole bread to feed to his sick children, was caught for it and then tried to escape out of worry for those children, would you still execute him for doing so?” Jiro asked ruthlessly. The Warrior felt like he just swallowed his tongue.

 

“I-“ Tatara tried to say, but ended up just staring helplessly at his Shounin. My cold-hearted, emotionless Shounin, who only seems to care about getting his way, or making sure his tiger gets its way. Not matter what Tatara tried, said or did, Jiro refused to warm up to him; or even talk to him. It was frustrating for the Celestial Warrior, for how was he to accomplish his divinely mandated duty if his Priest would not let him know what he was to do?

 

“So there you are you lousy, good-for-nothing, scofflaw, lay-about, rakes-hell son of mine!” A shrill, aged, female voice shrieked, making all the of the living beings standing there, man, tiger and horse alike, jump and stare at the new figure entering the scene. The new figure was a weather-beaten, but clearly still strong, older woman about Jiro's height.

 

The hawk-nosed, near-hag stalked up to the prone bandit, careless of Tora-kun's presence to glare down at the equally hawk-nosed young man; who was roughly twice her height. Tora-kun stumbled back away from the mini-juggernaut, clearly intimidated, and the bandit scouted back away from the woman to press against the tiger as the lesser of two evils.

 

The woman glared at the man, glanced rapidly at Tatara, his rich dress and drawn bow, then at Jiro, with his fresh scars still apparent, and then back to the bandit. She next cast a quick glance up to Tora-kun.

 

“Eat `im!” She ordered, making ever one keel over in shock.

~*~*~

“So, there ya' have it;” the old woman stated as she pour tea for Jiro as the four humans sat around the central hearth in her small home, “we come from Hokkan to rear a family in peace an' wit' real food, eldest boy hares off on his own to Gods know where, next I hear he's been arrested for bein' a bandit! So I kit m'self up to the capital, see if I can't mitigate his sen'ence, that're deliver it m'self! An' then I see `im pinned by the Shounin's beast wit' the Warrior Prince hisself threatin' the young bastard?”

 

She paused to sip her tea, then glared ferociously at her son Kauji, who cowered back in real fear. “So my thought is, since ya' says ya' need a common guide, take this brat, fer howe'er much he's worth. He did you wrong, m'lord,” she said, looking seriously over at Jiro, who reclined back against Tora-kun, who was snoozing completely at ease, “By our an'esters laws, he forefi' his life ta' ya', you own `im now.” She nodded sharply at Jiro's blink of surprise, then looked over at Tatara.

 

“'Tis only right an' proper, I think!” She declared, lifting her very stubborn chin. Tatara lifted a brow, then sipped his tea, mulling over his choices. It was true that he needed someone common, and clever, to assist them. A fast runner sent back to the capital had revealed that Kauji's escape had been completely unnoticed, pointing to the bandit's cleverness. Tatara had sent the runner back stating that he'd take care of the situation.

 

Sharp questioning by Tatara and the old woman had revealed that Kauji had taken no part in Jiro's torture, and had in fact pressed for mercy. The mercy he pressed for had been that Jiro should be killed out right, but that was a kindness when the alternative was death-by-rape-and-torture. This coincided with Jiro's somewhat fuzzy memories of the event.

 

So he's clever, and has some kindness in him. But still, is he trustworthy? Tatara was not going to expose himself, and more importantly Jiro, to the real threat that Kauji may go turncoat. The young man could have taken an honest occupation. But how many jobs exist out here for an unskilled laborer? He could have stayed home and helped out here. Take a good look around and see how poor these people are. He could have done something that didn't involve robbing others. But then how would he have gotten the rice to feed himself with?

 

Tatara sighed heavily, and cast a quick glance over at Tora-kun. The beast was sleeping, whiskers and paws twitching in some dream, completely relaxed and at ease. The utter opposite of how the beast behaved whenever the Advisor or the Emperor were around, or when any who felt ill-will towards the Shounin was around for that matter.

 

“Alright, I suppose we shall have to grant you a test then.” The prince said reluctantly. Kauji, who had been staring at his folded knees nervously suddenly brightened like a puppy that had just gotten petted instead of smacked.

 

“Really!?” He chirped hopefully. Tatara eyed the man, dressed in scruffy gi pants, patched common tunic, with a headband wrapped around his forehead, keeping his very scruffy bluish hair out of his black eyes. He had a scar cutting across his left eyebrow and then down his left cheek, luckily missing his eye. It didn't look like he had shaved in over a week and there was a vague aroma of stale sweat and dirt coming from him. The prince; dressed in sturdy, clean riding pants, tooled leather vest over tough linen tunic, with his hair braided back neatly; didn't relish the thought of keeping company with crude man.

 

“Only after you bath.” Tatara growled in distaste.

 

“Good! I haven' been able ta get a decent bath in, yea Gods, comin' on a month now.” Kauji shuddered, “You know how hard `tis ta' find enough water to wash in, in the desert? What water we did find was kept fer drinkin', not bathin'. I'd a hoped fer a bath in the prison, but they wouldn' let me have one!”

 

“Like it woulda done any good ta' wash yer sins off!” the old woman snapped, which somehow incited her son to finally snap back, starting a parent-child squabble. Tatara blinked and watched the fight in bemusement, feeling some of his reservation easing. That Kauji was going to bathe, that he wanted to bathe was a part of it, but the good natured bickering was the real reason that the prince finally admitted that maybe this was a good idea.

 

None of the insults going back and forth really had any venom attached to them. They were all of a kind that were easily shrugged off. Perhaps it was show for the guests, but it didn't feel like it. Tatara darted a quick glance at his Priest, to see how he felt about all this.

 

Jiro's expression was as mask-like as ever, but his body-language conveyed that he was at ease. Or as much at ease as he ever has been. Why won't he open up to me, to anyone? Jiya and I gave him every kindness, showed him every deference, and from the way he acted, you would have thought that we were as cruel to him as the court, or my sister was.

 

The bulk of the court had definitely given Jiro the cold shoulder; they had made it clear that while he was respected, he was not welcome. Subaru was even worse; she had expected a Miko if any had come, another girl to make girl-talk with. Another woman who would be her peer.

 

That the Chosen was a male, and a younger stripling at that, was a terrible insult to her. If the Chosen must be male, why couldn't he have been a strapping example of masculinity, someone she could swoon over? Why must the Chosen be a mere boy, and an under-developed one at that?

 

The first time that Tora-kun had met her, he had turned his back to her, lifted his tail, and sprayed. Apparently the tiger wasn't fond of her, and the antipathy was returned three-fold.

 

Tatara turned his attention back to his surroundings as the quarrel resolved and the old woman offered them dinner and sleeping space, since it was nearly sunset by this point. The prince accepted her offer, since it would be an insult to her not to, and offered to hunt to give her meat to cook with. The offer was gratefully accepted, as was Jiro's offer to assist in the dinner preparations.

 

“Thankee, your Eminence, that is truly kind of you.” The woman said eyes wide with awe and respect.

 

“As is your offer to share your meal, since it is obvious that the land is not as generous as it could be.” Jiro returned with a small smile. Tatara felt a pain at that smile; that it had been given to some stranger and not to him. He recognized the pain as jealousy; Jiro had never smiled at his Warrior except in cynicism, in spite of everything that Tatara had done for him!

 

“And uh,” Kauji hesitated, “um, what should we do for, um-“ he pointed to Tora-kun, who blinked up at him and yawned.

 

“I'll handle this.” Jiro said confidently as he stood in front of the great beast, “Tora, go hunt.” He said, pointing out the reed-veiled door, “Hunt Tora!” The beast looked up at his master then heaved himself up to his feet. He trotted out the door; ears pricked forward, tail raised like a banner. Tatara blink-blinked, picked up his quiver and followed the beast to fetch meat for his hosts and his Priest.

~*~*~

The next day found prince, the Priest and the bandit on the road, heading inland towards the Taikyoku Mountains. All the information that Tatara was able to dig up stated that the ruler of the mountains, Taiitsukun, had assisted the first Miko in finding her Warriors, so he figured that this person (there was no statement as to gender in the records, only of great ugliness) would be able to assist the current Shounin.

 

They were making good progress, and Kauji had already proven to be useful, leading his companions/captors down a short-cut that lopped off about three hours worth of travel. But the bandit's presence was driving Tatara mad; he had hoped for time relatively alone with his Shounin in which he could form a real bond and maybe even a friendship with the youth.

 

The guide that he had thought he was going to acquire would have been a proper servant, only making himself known when there was need, but otherwise staying out of the way. This is what made servants so easy to ignore, and this would have allowed Tatara to focus of Jiro. But Kauji was, among other things, not a proper servant.

 

He was loud, nosy, noisy, crude and altogether obnoxious, at least to the prince's senses. He wished he could find a reasonable excuse to be rid of the man. None where forthcoming, but one thing that had been revealed was truly aggravating Tatara more than anything else. Jiro liked this man, this stranger, this crude barbarian that had wanted the Priest dead!

 

When Tatara had found out that he was a Seishin Senshi at age four, he had spent nearly every spare waking moment preparing for the time when his Miko would appear. He had dreamed and day-dreamed of what it would be like, fantasying about all the great deeds he would be able to do that would assure his place in history the same way his predecessor had.

 

Tatara was not so vain nor so foolish as to assume that a love would spring up between himself and the Miko, but he was certain that he would become great friends and maybe even a confidant with the other-worldly woman. That Jiro was male and the Miko of his dreams was a Shounin had not discouraged him at all. It made things better in fact, the prince could relate more easily to another male and the two could be closer friends.

 

Jiro wasn't cooperating with Tatara's dream; he had been cold and stand-offish from the start, showing only the tiniest bit of favoritism to him verses the rest of the court. And taking in mind that the bulk of the court viewed Jiro as a freak and a living symbol of doom; that smidgen of trust was almost an insult.

 

The Shounin still wasn't warming much if he was to be compared to other people. He was listening politely, on rare occasions laughed at one of Kauji's jokes and would venture a question or two towards the bandit, but aside from that…

 

But he's never laughed at my jokes, nor has he asked me any questions aside from those first two days really. The only creature in existence that received anything from Jiro that could be described as affection was the blasted tiger! Tatara knew he was jealous, knew that what he was really doing was coveting any moment of Jiro's attention that wasn't given to him, and knew that this state of mind wasn't healthy or becoming. But he couldn't help it!

 

Hadn't he planned for this? Hadn't he practiced his fighting skills and exercised his powers until he had complete control over them? Hadn't he lived his life for this moment? And now he was very nearly being shunned by the person he'd dedicated his life to! Why?!?

 

Because he's in pain, a part of Tatara's mind that wasn't taken up with irrational emotions whispered, watch his eyes, read his body language. He is waiting, constantly waiting for the back-handed blow that will separate your cast from his, that will put him back down in his place. Your scorn of Kauji only gives him that much more in common with the Shounin than with you.

 

Why? Tatara asked that other part of his mind. It had no answer for why, only speculation. Jiro's body type was slight, almost girlish. Perhaps he had been tormented because of that? Also, the Priest was clearly more of an intellectual type than an active, fighter type; maybe his home world felt that books were for girls and weapons were for boys? Maybe there was something else going on that required examination, and maybe even emotional purging?

 

Tatara filed these speculations away for later use. This wasn't helping him now. He pressed his heels lightly into the sides of his battle stallion; one of his favorites, a gorgeous blood-red bay who rode better with body movements than with reins; and came up closer to Jiro. He was just about to try and get his Priest to open up, again, when his danger sense flared into red alert.

 

“Shounin-sama! Get down!” Tatara roared as his strung his bow and nocked an arrow in perhaps five seconds. Kauji whipped out the sword that Tatara had reluctantly given him and the two were prepared for the first attack. Three black-clad fighters charged the small group, swords and knives drawn and at the ready. One fell before getting to far, his throat feathered with arrows. Kauji engaged the second, parrying both knife and sword with more than a little skill.

 

Tatara found himself involuntarily reversing his earlier opinion of the man. But his attention was quickly diverted back to the third assassin, who was still charging Jiro.

 

Correction; he was charging Jiro, until he became tiger-food. Tora-kun showed his full ferocity by lashing out with his fore-claws, catching the assassin's hood. The assassin retaliated with his blades, but the `dumb' beast ducked then leaped up, coming up inside of the blades and crushed the assassin's face in his massive jaws.

 

Tatara took in the fact that Tora-kun had that one handled and turned his attention back to Kauji in time to catch the bandit gutting his adversary. So far, so good. All opponents taken care of, so why is my danger-sense still screaming?

 

The prince had his silent question answered as a hail of arrows suddenly fell from the near-by cliffs. Shit! Tatara didn't even think, he lunged and tackled Jiro off his horse, turning athletically so that he hit the ground feet first, shielding his Priest with his own body. Not that he needed to.

 

Unanticipated aid came first in the form ofuda paper charms striking all the arrows and burning them to ash before they could strike any of the traveling party. Next a man appeared between them and the cliffs; he didn't leap there, he just appeared there. Tatara had to blink several times to convince himself that he wasn't seeing things.

 

The strange, cloaked man held up an ofuda charm between his first two fingers of his right hand in front of his face and chanted while holding his staff out horizontally with his left hand. There was an explosion and four very dead, black-clad archers either fell into view, or fell off the cliff entirely.

 

The man turned to look at Tatara and Jiroshi, both of whom were standing and staring right back. Kauji was comically standing a little distance away, gawking first at the prince and Priest then rapidly at the stranger and back again. The prince warily eyed the dark-haired, nearly black-haired, violet-eyed, tall stranger dressed as a monk of some sort. The monk was eyeing him right back, but was mostly casting startled glances at Jiro, who had already put some distance between himself and his Senshi.

 

“My lord,” the stranger intoned in a deep voice as he bowed, dropping to one knee, “I, Tokaki, have come to assist and advise you, if you would have me, de gozura yo.” He lifted his head and pulled his left sleeve down to show the white symbol on his forearm to Jiro. Tatara gaped openly while Jiro looked mildly alarmed.

 

“Whelp, looks like this gatherin' trip's gonna be easier than ya' thought if'n ya' gotta `nother one already.” Kauji drawled, tossing his arms behind his head, grinning. Tora-kun `wuffed' in agreement and went to gnaw on one of the fallen archers, pointedly ignoring the overly-serious meeting taking place behind him.

~*~*~

A.S.: Well, there's the next chapter, sorry it took so long. I've jumped onto the Naruto bandwagon and have recently added two fics to my writing duties. Gomen ne. It'll take a little longer to get back to this one because of it. Fortunately, because I finished diving class, I have a little more spare time than I had earlier.

 

Oh and out of curiosity, did anyone notice that if Kauji or Jiro thought about Tatara, they though `Prince' while when Tatara thought of himself, it was `prince'? This is because Tatara is just that much more unimpressed with his status. Being the prince isn't a big deal for him, it just is; while Kauji, Jiro and the rest are impressed by his birth status. Just thought I'd point that out incase anyone was wondering. Hope you enjoyed! What'll Tokaki add to the party and story? Ja Ne