Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Stalking the Wolf ❯ Servant of Suzaku; Heed Thy Destiny! ( Chapter 2 )

Stalking the Wolf

 

By: Yahnkehy

 

A/N: Thank you dear reviewers! I'm so pleased that you enjoyed the prologue, I was slightly hesitant to post it, as I had feared that some other amazingly talented author had thought of this idea before me. I hope that isn't the case. *sweatdrop * We get to see a bit of Tasuki's past after the events of the beginning of the prologue. I hope it's all right. You will also have to forgive the unbeta'd state of this entire story because my beta's have all been busy lately and I hesitate to bother busy people. *hugs *

 

Chapter Warnings: Angst, character death, flirtation, deviousness, and reflection.

 

Chapter Rating: high T for language.

 

Chapter 1: Servant of Suzaku; Heed Thy Destiny!

 

 

 

He'd been aware that Hotohori was an extremely attractive man while he'd known him in the past, but to be hit with the full brunt of that beauty in female form took his breath away. Genrou's heart raced as his long tutelage under Tibbs' fatherly eye kicked in and he bowed deeply, a charming smile sliding across his lips as flowery compliments flowed from his mouth with practiced ease.

 

Lady Alana smiled and blushed attractively under the compliments, her hand still held in Genrou's. “Why sir! I do believe you shall turn my head if you continue. Uncle warned that you were a charming man, my lord, but he never mentioned that honeyed tongue was masked by such an innocent and dashing face.” Her tone was bright and cheerful, her smile dazzling as she leaned ever so slightly forward. “Tell me, Lord McTanish, are you the devilish rake that London Town has proclaimed you?”

 

Genrou flushed slightly but strengthened his grin, fangs poking out at the corners of his mouth giving his smile a rakish cast. “Ah, but that would be tellin'.” He bowed politely and turned to shake the Nuriko double's hand. He missed the calculating gleam in her eyes as she stepped back in line next to her uncle.

 

Lord Ryan was the picture of Nuriko; same firm handshake, same laughing violet eyes tilted only slightly at the corners, same angel kiss near the corner of his left eye, same longish braid falling over one shoulder. The only difference was the lack of feminine garments and shocking purple hair. Coloring that, over the three centuries, he'd seen less and less of.

 

The outrageous colors he'd grown up seeing as an everyday thing were now lost in obscurity. There were no light and dark blues, no greens, no purples, or flame red- like his own- anymore, which had gotten him strange and appraising looks in the last few years. It was a curious happenstance that he could not explain and had no inclination to.

 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord McTanish. Uncle has raved about you since the moment you first graced our lovely town.” Lord Ryan's smile was smooth and polite, his words cultured but his gaze was curious and probing.

 

“Pleased t'meet you, too, Nu- Lord Ryan. Perhaps you c'n talk yer uncle into takin' a break from all of these damned parties an' just relax fer a change, ne? Much as I enjoy meetin' new people, it gets a bit tirin' don't' ya think?” He held those violet eyes for a moment, begging silently for some spark of recognition; just a glimmer of memory… maybe he wouldn't be so alone anymore.

 

Lord Ryan quirked a brow and tilted his chin in a non committal nod as he stepped back into the receiving line and turned to meet the next couple.

 

Not surprised by the abrupt dismissal, Genrou moved through the line and was greeted by a handful more people that was helping the Bronsville's host the party.

 

As he was ushered in and announced at the doors to the grand ballroom, Genrou caught a glimpse of a face that he thought he knew but shook it off. Aside from Bronsville and his own staff, he hadn't really gotten to know any of the ton as he knew that after only a few short months he would move to Scotland and assume his role as `The McTanish' for about 15 years before he retired for a few more years in obscurity.

 

Taiitsukun had advised him to follow that course as a way to keep unwanted questions from being asked and, after outliving two generations of bandits before being called a witch, took the old hag's words to heart. It had been hard to lose Kouji and the other bandits to old age while he remained young but being called an `unholy demon witch' by the next generation of bandits had almost crushed what little normalcy he thought he had attained.

 

He had cut all ties with the seishi and the bandits, only going back to who he once was for a single day; the day that Chichiri had died.

 

Taiitsukun had come to find him, popping up behind him in a closed storeroom where he had been working in a small town inn for room and board. He'd yelled and screamed at first, not wanting to be dragged back into a life he felt he no longer fit into, but when Taiitsukun told him of Chichiri's impending death he had dropped everything and allowed the old lady to take him to his friend.

 

Chichiri had lay quiet and still on a small mat, surrounded by weeping Nyan Nyan's; his rasping breathing only broken by wracking coughs. Tasuki kneeled at Chichiri's side, tears rolling down his cheeks as he lifted Chichiri's old and wrinkled hand into his own.

 

Age had ravaged his features, leaving his face worry marked and deeply lined yet still striking and beautiful. His once light blue hair was liberally streaked with white, and had been recently shaved to help draw out fever.

 

Tasuki had cried and held his brother seishi for hours, trying to fit in every moment he could before the inevitable happened. Nyan Nyan's had left them alone to chat and reminisce in the short time before Chichiri's life force waned, and only then had they come back. Taiitsukun, Nyan Nyan and Tasuki were the only ones to wish the Well Seishi a joyful and speedy reincarnation as he breathed his last breath. It was the day Tasuki had been caged for good and the diamond tessen's last act was to incinerate the body of a much-loved friend.

 

“Chichiri.” Genrou shivered and shook his head, now wasn't the time to be remembering such painful memories. It had been a hundred and eighty years since he'd said his good-byes to Chichiri; and in that time had fought to only remember the good times they'd had rather than depress himself with the day his brother had died. The face in the crowd had resembled Chichiri's but he knew it would be too much of a coincidence to find three reincarnated brethren in the same night and so shook off the urge to follow the man.

 

A gaggle of debutantes surrounded him, giggling and chattering brightly at him. Their breezy gossiping and the brilliant colors of their dresses helped him to overcome his dark mood.

 

He danced a few times with faceless females, each time letting them come to him.

 

The ball had begun to wind down; Genrou had retired to the side of the dance floor, listening to old men complain about their wives or daughters when a tingle shot up his spine and he turned. Lady Alana swept to his side, her laughing hazel eyes and soft throaty voice a balm to Genrou's rising boredom.

 

“My lords, please forgive me but I do believe that Lord McTanish has promised me a dance. I simply must steal him away from your comforting presence to bore him to death with my clumsy attempts to dance.”

 

A chorus of praise for her dancing habits met her ears, causing her to smile brightly as she tugged Genrou's arm gently and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

 

He was surprised that she had waited so long to ask him, actually, she had seemed quite bold when they had been introduced in the receiving line. As he took position for the waltz that was scheduled to play, he noted how her cheeks flushed becomingly when she gazed into his eyes, how her hands fluttered at his shoulder and her chest heaved as though in anticipation.

 

“I don't remember signin' yer dance card when we met earlier, Lady Alana, and I don't know why ya decided t'rescue me from those boring old men but ya have my deepest thanks. I was damn near ready t'hang myself if I heard one more word about gout an' bunions!” He chuckled as she turned a faint shade of red and dropped her gaze demurely.

 

“You didn't sign my dance card, my lord, but you did look as though you were about to expire from boredom.” She smiled and flicked her gaze up to meet his, “I was hoping to dance at least once with you and get to know you better, my lord.”

 

The music started and he swept her up into the dance, his laughter mingling with the music as he swung her around the floor with expert ease. “So, ya got a thing fer dashin' males, ne Lady Alana?”

 

Her grip tightened in his grasp, drawing his attention to her face. “No, my lord, I'm just drawn to you for some reason. I've never felt such a strong pull to another living being and had hoped I could entice you into letting me get to know you better before you leave for Scotland.”

 

His heart stopped again; did she recognize him? Were Hotohori's memories breaking the surface and coming to the fore in her mind? Could she recognize him? His feet never faltered in their movements around the dance floor as he tightened his grip at her slim waist. “I'd like that. I-I feel a bit of a pull t'you as well, Lady Alana.” `I just didn't think you'd feel it, too. I c'n hardly wait t'rub it in Taiitsukun's face when he drops in t'morrow.'

 

“Wonderful, my lord, please come to call on me here in my uncle's house tomorrow around tea time. I'd love to show you the newest additions to our gardens and perhaps show you through our hedge maze?” Her eyes sparkled and danced, lighting from within; nearly glowing with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

 

Genrou nodded as the dance came to an end; he made his bow and led her from the floor. “I'll see ya t'morrow then, my lady, but fer now I must go.” He bowed over her hand, placing a gentle kiss on the underside of her wrist, turned and left her at her uncle's side.

 

`Suzaku, I hope this is it.'

 

 

 

To be continued….

 

Thank you for reading.

 

Love!

 

Yahnkehy- V.M.