Though Yui and her Seishi have suffered an enormous setback and Taiitsukun warns them of coming perils beyond any they have yet faced, a week has passed, and they have used the time to regain their balance. Now they are prepared to move forward again with courage and faith.
Their ship departs tomorrow, but there remains much danger under the stars tonight.

Episode Twenty-eight:

Hiro sat on the living room couch with “The Universe of the Four Gods” on his lap, bracing his feet on the frame that had, until yesterday, supported the glass surface of the coffee table. Hard to believe it had only been one day. For Yui, so much time had passed...

“‘When Nuriko and Chichiri returned to the capital city, the people were hanging banners for the Star Watching Festival, and merchants were setting up kiosks for sweets and games. At the Palace of Konan, they learned that Tamahome had returned that morning, and that the Suzaku no Miko and her other Seishi had gathered at Tamahome’s father’s house. The Emperor himself was preparing to go there and join them’—”

BRRRRRRRRRRING!

The telephone shocked Hiro so that he practically threw “The Universe of the Four Gods” across the room, and he sat frozen as it rang again and again. I’d better answer in case it’s Mom. She’ll get worried if I don’t... But the prospect of it was terrifying, and he only slowly pushed himself across the room. That made it all the more distressing as the phone rang ten, eleven, twelve times. Whoever it was wasn’t giving up...

Hiro lifted the reciever to his ear. “Hongou residence.”

“Hiro, is that you!?”

“Yeah... Who is this?” He was too exhausted even to place the voice.

“Yuuki Keisuke! Duh! Listen, you’ve got some explaining to do. I just talked to my mom, who just talked to your mom, and you told somebody that Miaka went somewhere with Yui before school this morning. No one—including you on the phone last night—has seen Miaka since yesterday afternoon—or have you!? Anything you know, you’d better spill it, Hiro.”

Oh, shit... Of course he couldn’t have kept his story straight, that would’ve been smart... “Uh... My mom also told you all I was sick, right? I mean, I really don’t know what—”

“Dammit, Hiro, don’t give me this crap!” Keisuke shouted, so loud that it streaked fuzz through the phone line. “My sister is missing! Nobody knows where she is! She’s not at school; Yui’s not at school... Something is very wrong here. You know something about it, I know you do. I know where you live, Hiro. Now you tell me where the girls are or I’m gonna send the police over there!”

“No! No, don’t do that!” Hiro cried. There was nothing the police could do, except take away the book, and Yui and Miaka with it. Keisuke was right; he did know where they were, but it would sound so insane... It seemed like years ago, but he could still remember his own reaction when Yui told him the story...

“Well!?” Keisuke prompted.

“Look, uh...” Hiro couldn’t think. He was just babbling into the phone. “It’s not something I can tell you over the phone, okay?”

“Yeah, right! Cut the crap, Hiro!”

“No, I mean it, I promise! Look... How soon can you get over here?”

“A few minutes in Tetsuya’s car.”

“Well, could we keep Tetsuya out of this, maybe?”

“Hiro!”

“Okay, okay, just come over and I’ll tell you everything I know, okay?” And then you’ll probably have me put away as a psychotic...

“Fine. I’ll be right there. And if you’re not there when I come—”

“I’ll be here, okay? I don’t need the gory details.”

Click. Keisuke hung up. Hiro took several seconds before putting down the reciever.

Nothing all that serious was happening in the book right now. He should really take the opportunity to get dressed before Keisuke and Tetsuya arrived. But instead, he found himself crossing to the book, picking it up off the floor, and once again finding the last printed page.

“‘Nuriko joined the guards who marched in the procession, and the Emperor invited the monk Chichiri to accompany him in his own palanquin.’”

*

“Is everything all right?” Hotohori asked as Chichiri fidgetted in the seat facing him.

“Hai, hai, it’s just that... for a wanderer like me, it’s a strange way to get somewhere no da.”

He paused to consider it. “I can imagine how that would be true. I’m accustomed to this...”

“Anou... are you still mad at me no da?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, all those edicts you made... No. It will be something to do. I’m sorry to say something so patronizing, but the innocent intentions in them are... somewhat amusing. But in a way that deserves respect, if not implementation.”

Chichiri blushed. “But... what do you mean ‘something to do’ no da? Everything’s been so busy since...” she trailed off.

“Something to do once you all have gone. I’ll need something to distract me from worrying about you.”

“You’re not going with us no da?”

“How could I?” Hotohori asked.

“Easy no da. You just tell everybody you’re going no da. Can they really stop you no da?”

He shook his head. “For the Emperor to leave this city is all but unprecedented. For me to leave Konan is unthinkable. Besides...”—here he averted his eyes—“Taiitsukun told Yui that until Suzaku is summoned, no man must touch her with love, especially one of her Seishi. Having me there would be an unnecessary temptation.”

The dainty brows of Chichiri’s mask twisted up. “Anou... I think she just meant Yui-chan has to be a virgin no da,” she said, blushing even redder than before. “And you’re a gentleman if I’ve ever known one—and I’ve known a lot of people—so...”

“No,” he said. “Taiitsukun was very clear about it.”

Chichiri frowned and remained silent for a moment before speaking again. “Hotohori no da?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come no da?” She cut him off as he began to reply. “—I mean, not can you, or should you, but do you want to no da?”

“Of course I want to,” he said. “But—”

Just then the palanquin shifted as it came to a stop. Nuriko opened the door. “Here we are, Chichiri, Hotohori-sama.”

“Anou, would you mind going first, Hotohori no da?” Chichiri asked.

With a brief nod, Hotohori made a practiced and dignified descent from the palanquin, and Nuriko waited to help Chichiri down.

Tamahome and his family were waiting inside the tall, stately house, along with Yui and the other Seishi. Gyokuran and Chiriko sat in a pair of padded chairs and chatted, while Yui and Mitsukake talked with Tamahome’s father and Chuei. Tamahome himself was carrying Yuiren around on his shoulders with Shunkei close behind, exploring the house with its rich furnishings, which Tasuki was admiring as well. Everyone turned to the commotion at the door, but Yui looked away as guards flanked the door and Hotohori entered.

“Onii-chan, look!” Yuiren pointed. “It’s the pretty man who came to visit us.”

“That’s Hotohori-sama. He got us this house, and he’s the Emperor,” Tamahome said as his father greeted Hotohori with a deep kowtow.

“Please, you don’t need to be so formal,” Hotohori said.

Chuei stared at him in shock. “Eh... Emperor? You’re— You were the Emperor!?”

“I have been for some time,” he answered with gentle humor.

“Four years, two months, eleven days,” Chiriko volunteered. Hotohori obviously didn’t know how to react to that bit of trivia.

“What’s with Chuei?” Tamahome wondered aloud.

Chichiri was still lingering outside, but Nuriko had entered and walked up beside him to answer softly. “Hotohori-sama was with us when we visited your family before and Mitsukake healed your father. Turns out your brother, well... has some political opinions and shot his mouth off.”

“Ohhh...”

“Guess it runs in the family.”

“Hey!”

Tasuki looked up from a vase to see Nuriko. “Oh, great, you’re back. Brought the Witch, too, I’ll bet...”

Nuriko crossed the space between herself and Tasuki with shocking speed and grabbed his shoulder. “You, with me,” she growled, dragging him out of the room.

“What the hell?! What’d I do this time?”

“Speaking of someone shooting their mouth off...” Tamahome muttered. “Hey, Nuriko, could you try not to punch holes in my family’s new house, huh?”

As soon as they were adequately out of earshot, Nuriko tossed Tasuki against a wall.

“Ow! Hey! What’s your problem?”

“Don’t call her that again,” Nuriko growled.

“Call who what?”

“Chichiri. She isn’t a witch, and she doesn’t like to be called one. Don’t do it again.”

“Chichiri?!” Tasuki asked in disbelief. “Ah, hell. I ain’t got time for this crap.” He tried to pull away from her, and failed.

“I mean it, Tasuki.”

“Look, Nuriko, you don’t know nothin’ about it, so why don’t you just—”

“I know more about it than you do, Tasuki,” Nuriko growled, shoving on his shoulder harder. “A lot more. And if I hear you call her that again, you’re going to wish I hadn’t. Got it?”

Tasuki met her eyes. She meant it, every word. “All right, I got it. Ya wanna let up on my shoulder now?”

Nuriko let go of him and stepped back to let him by as he brushed himself off. “Geez, what’s your problem?” he muttered. “Think I was insulting your—” Tasuki stopped short and turned around, then stared as his jaw started toward his belt.

“Yes?” Nuriko prompted, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers on her left elbow.

“Bloody hell!” he announced at last. “One normal person in this group, that’s all I ask. Just one! For Suzaku’s sake!”

“Tasuki, how hard did I smack your head against that wall?”

“My head? MY head? What about your head? I KNOW you’re both girls!”

“Huh? What are you...” Nuriko caught his meaning and rolled her eyes. “Tasuki, now you’re just being stupid.”

“Heh.” He flashed her a fang-toothed grin. “Am I, Romeo?”

He darted back to the relative protection of the rest of the group as she dropped her arms and walked back to the main room.

“As I was saying,” Hotohori said as Nuriko returned to the room. Chichiri had apparently just walked in.

“You didn’t get blood all over our nice, new house, did you?” Tamahome whispered to her.

“No, Tama, I didn’t.”

“—I’d like Yui and the rest of you to enjoy yourselves at the festival this evening,” Hotohori continued. “Word of what happened at the summoning ceremony is already widespread—”

“Tell me about it,” Nuriko muttered.

“—And the people need a reason not to lose hope. To see the Suzaku no Miko and her Seishi in high spirits will be a tremendous help.”

“What do you mean ‘the rest of us’ no da?” Hotohori started slightly at finding the miniaturized Chichiri clinging to and peeking over the back of his chair. “Aren’t you going no da?”

“No, no... The commander of the palace guard is concerned with security after what’s happened, and...” He glanced briefly at Yui, but the moment their eyes met, they both turned away, as if recoiling from a painful touch.

Chichiri nodded slowly. This is worse than I thought no da...

*

“‘The monk Chichiri was greatly disturbed by the Emperor’s words, and resolved to’—”

KNOCK KNOCK

Hiro should’ve expected the knock on the door, but it jolted him nonetheless. Still, nothing was happening in the book that he really needed to see. It would be all right, for a little while... He shut the bookmark in it, set it aside, and went to the door.

As soon as it was open a crack, Yuuki Keisuke pushed his way into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. “All right, you said to keep Tetsuya out of it, so he’s waiting for me at the coffee shop. Now where’s my sister!?”

Hiro had retreated back to the living room. He sat down and picked up the book again, but resisted the urge to open it. “It’s a long story,” he said, “and you’re really going to think I’m crazy, so you’d better sit down.”

*

Amiboshi lay curled up in bed. The guards were still there in the room with him, and although they had become a bit less strict in the course of the week, there was still very little he could do except eat and sleep. Even the slightest strain of music still set them off, and he felt close to insanity from the deprivation. Better to sleep through it. All the suppressed songs danced through his dreams, thick and murky and unreachable, like being surrounded by fog, but at least in his dreams he could chase after them.

But today it was easier to keep awake, and he knew that he should. Suboshi had sent another message, sideways on the front of his shoulder where his shirt hid it, but as he lay there he’d managed to look under his collar surreptitiously and see the single word.

Tonight

Nakago would’ve sent those black-cloaked minions as soon as he’d heard Miaka’s whereabouts, and they’d have arrived within a day or two. They must’ve been waiting for an opportunity, and tonight was the Star Watching Festival. Most of the Sei of Suzaku would be there, out of the palace.

There was a knock at the door. The guards opened it, and by the sound of the footsteps, they let someone in.

Amiboshi raised himself to a seat and looked up. He barely managed to contain his surprise—it was Miaka there, holding his lunch tray. Somehow he had to tell her, but the guards were listening to every word... “Are you from around here?” he asked as she handed him the food.

“Um, no.”

“And you’re not going home for the festival tonight?”

She shook her head, still giving him a blank look.

“The stars really are so pretty. It’d be a great time to be with the people who care about you...” He fixed her with an intense gaze.

She only blinked back at him. “But...”

“Well, it’s my fault I’m here. I just feel lucky to be alive!”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Miaka said.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” one of the guards insisted. Amiboshi calmly started on his meal as the man took Miaka by the arm and led her back to the door. “We’ll set the tray outside when he’s done,” he said, and shut the door behind her.

Miaka started back toward the servants’ quarters a bit dazed. Why did Amiboshi talk like that? He couldn’t tell her anything straight out in front of the guards, but he’d obviously tried to tell her something...

‘The festival tonight... It’d be a great time to be with the people who care about you.’ And how he’d said, when he found her in the market, that she’d have to go back... They’re taking me back tonight...?

The thought frightened her. Back to Miboshi? Back to Nakago, who’d be furious with her for running off, and for going along with Miboshi’s plan? But what could she do? If Amiboshi and the black-cloaked men wanted to take her, they wouldn’t understand, and she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

If only she could get help, but this was Yui’s country. If she looked for refuge here, she’d probably end up at Yui’s mercy. She knew Tamahome would help her if she told him to, but even that idea was scary. He’d probably be angry at her for going along with Miboshi’s plan, too...

Maybe if she could just find a place to hide...

*

The Sei of Suzaku stayed at Tahahome’s house until the sky began to darken, and the festive noise of the celebration filtered into the house through the windows. Hotohori was carried back to the palace in the palanquin as the others—Yui, her other Seishi, and Tamahome’s family with them—set out into the streets where people were laughing under the colorful festival deocrations, and merchants shouted from kiosks of games, toys, and similar fun for sale.

“Now remember, everybody, we’re under strict orders from His Imperial Majesty to have fun,” Tasuki said, mock-threateningly. “So I better not catch any of you goofing off!”

“Tasuki!” Nuriko protested.

“Ah, forget you, you can’t take a joke...”

“Well, I’ll try to have fun,” Chiriko said.

Tasuki stared at him, then threw up his hands. “How’d I end up with you people?”

“Oh, look!” Yui tried to lighten the mood, walking over to a booth where an accurate throw could win any of the assortment of toys and dolls festooning the place. The crowd parted to let her and her Seishi up to the counter, and the people admired her from a slight distance. “This is just like carnivals back home,” she said.

“Back home? You mean the world you came from?” Chiriko asked. “They had festivals there?”

“Yes, with games just like this,” she said. “Guys were always trying to win the biggest toys for their girlfriends and things like that.”

Tamahome leaned over the counter toward the proprietor. “How much to play this?”

A pop sounded overhead, and while Tamahome talked to the merchant, the others looked up at the first of the evening’s fireworks drizzling red sparks over the river. Yui let her voice join in the collective sighs and squeals of admiration as the smell of fire wafted faintly down onto the crowd.

*

“What was that!?” Miaka cried.

“They’re starting the fireworks outside,” one of the other girls said, edging past her with a tray. “Ahh! I wish I could be out there and see it...”

As her voice trailed off into the distance, Miaka hoped that was the cause of the sound. With it getting dark, they could come to take her at any time... And try as she might, she hadn’t found a place to hide. She’d tried it in one of the bins of cloth in the laundry room, only to be berated for sleeping on the job.

She sidled nervously into the kitchen, where the chef was placing carved-radish flowers as the finishing touches on a suitably exquisite tray. A pair of guards stood where he was working, and Miaka eyed them nervously. “Um... Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

“Don’t give her this one,” another girl remarked. “Miyoko’d chew on the Emperor’s food.”

“The Emperor!? This is for the Emperor?” Miaka asked. Hotohori, whom she’d seen when she came, and then again in the hallway... She still remembered sitting in the library reading about him. He was always so kind and gentle. Maybe...

“That’s right,” the chef said. “The Em-pe-ror.”

“Um, could I take it to him? Maybe? Please?”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s so handsome, you know?” Miaka cooed. “Just to see him up close, it’d be so cool!”

The chef favored her witha bemused smile. “Promise not to nibble His Majesty’s food?”

“Promise!”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” one of the guards offered.

“All right,” the chef conceded. “You can take it.”

“Yay!” she cried, picking up the heavy tray. “I’ll do a good job, I promise!” She started out the door, then paused. “Um, where’s the Emperor’s room?”

“We’ll take you to him,” one of the guards said. They opened the door for her and led her out into the hallway, one ahead and one behind her. She had to concentrate on the tray to keep it steady as they led her down corridors and up stairways. The food was tempting, but the tray was so laden with it that there was no way she could free a hand to reach for samples.

At last they opened half of a heavy double door before her, ushered her into a wide audience chamber, and closed the door behind her. The vast space of the room stood in eerie bluish dimness, with no torches or lanterns. Looking toward the throne, she couldn’t see anyone. “Um, hello? Your Majesty?”

“Yes?”

She turned toward his low, rich voice and found him sitting alone at a large balconied window. The golden evening light washing over him made him blend in with the architectural decorations and finely-carved furniture. “Oh, I didn’t see you,” she said. “Brought your dinner.” She did what she could to dash over to him without upsetting the tray and set it on a small round table beside him.

“Thank you,” he said, and paused. “You may go,” he added when she didn’t move.

“Well, could I maybe stay a little bit? I mean, it’s such a nice view of the fireworks...”

He considered it for a moment. “Very well.” Without saying another word or touching the food, he turned back to the window.

Miaka stood behind him, staring not at the sky outside, but at Hotohori, who made for a splended view himself. The distant pop of fireworks sent a warm red glow washing over the two of them, and she could watch reflected sparks of the red fire slide down strands of his dark hair. She wanted to tell him! She wanted to hug him and lay her head on his chest and beg for him to protect her, like he protected Yui, like he had held Yui against him, and Miaka, reading it, had almost felt his warmth herself... But what could she say? Every time she thought of a place to start, it caught in her throat. She was so frightened, so nervous... “Um...”

“Yes?” He turned those stunning golden-brown eyes up at her.

“Um, could I, uh...” she stuttered, pointing awkwardly at the tray of food.

“Oh. Please, help yourself.”

Miaka picked up bits of fruit and munched on them to calm her nerves, staring again at her oblique view of Hotohori’s face. His features were a smooth landscape as the light from another firecracker caught and described them in a new way. Miaka was so fascinated by the slight motion of his face that she didn’t realize his brows were knitting up darkly until he turned to her.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“Hm?” She swallowed the mouthful of fruit. “Well, you must see us servants all the time...”

“No, I think we’ve met,” he said, with that scrutinizing look. Suddenly his face opened up in surprise and he rose to his feet. “Amiboshi brought you into the palace!”

“Um, yeah...” she admitted.

“Miyoko...” he remembered. “...Miaka?!?”

“...You know my name?”

“You’re the Seiryuu no Miko!?”

Miaka nodded.

For a moment he was dumbfounded. “Why are you here!? How!?”

“I... I followed Tamahome,” she blurted, “but then the guards wouldn’t let me in, but then Amiboshi brought me in later, and they’re going to take me back to Kutou and I don’t wanna go!” She finished with a whine as tears came to her eyes.

Hesitantly, Hotohori took her shoulders. She threw herself against his chest, which was soft and warm, but it wasn’t quite right. His muscles were tense; he handled her lightly, in an awkward, guarded way. “If you want to stay here, I certainly wouldn’t have you leave,” he said.

“But they’re coming for me! Tonight!” she cried. “Please say you’ll protect me!”

“Of course,” he said, “but tonight!?”

She nodded meekly. “I think so.”

He started toward the door, but Miaka clung to his sleeve and held him back. “Wait! Where are you going!?”

“If Kutou’s agents strike tonight, we have to prepare. I have to call the other Sei of Suzaku back to the palace.”

“And Yui, too?”

“Yes,” he said, then noticed her concerned face and took her shoulders again. “Miaka, I don’t know what has passed between you and Yui, but I assure you, she doesn’t want to hurt you. From the moment she arrived here, she was concerned about you and searching for you.”

Miaka bit back all the reasons she’d thought of why that might be true. “Please. I just don’t want to see her...”

“This is no time to argue!”

She braced her feet and hung on tighter. “No! Please, you have to promise me! Promise you’ll keep Yui away!”

He took her wrists and forcibly broke her grip. “How can I promise you that? Yui is my Miko, and my beloved. I swear, no harm will come to you.”

As he let go she shrank away from him, from the pressure he’d exerted on her wrists. She’d never even gotten close to the warm, gentle touch that had cast its shadow over her from the page, so long ago. He was just like Tamahome; even if he wanted to help her, Yui was his Miko, and she had his heart, too, so much that Miaka would never see it. Whatever Yui wanted from him, she would get, and that would put Miaka right back in her hands...

“Stay right here,” Hotohori said, and turned toward the door, walking more slowly.

Miboshi’s way had been a disaster, even if it were available now. The bond that Yui had on him... There was no way out of it, and now Miaka would get caught in it, too. She had to get out, somehow, but now she’d trapped herself. Somehow she’d have to fight her way out...

The desperation was dizzying, and she clutched the edge of the table to steady herself; it placed her staring at the tray of food. There was a knife, lay neatly beside a cut of meat. Somehow I have to fight my way out... She picked up the knife, and turned to find Hotohori not even halfway to the door. The seconds seemed so long that all of this wasn’t really taking any time at all. She tucked the knife behind her back and dashed after him to follow him out, to somewhere she could escape from, or...

He turned at the sound of her footsteps. “Miaka, stay—”

It was no good. He wouldn’t let her go. Have to get out!

“—here...” He bounced forward slightly as she hit his back with the knife in her fist. It didn’t seem real at all, not like how such a thing should really happen. He didn’t cry out in pain, even as the black-red wet shine began to bleed across the shoulder of his robe. It seemed like forever—so slowly, he turned to her, looking plainly puzzled, like he couldn’t even feel it, like it hadn’t really happened at all...

Not until he saw the bloody knife in her hand did the recognition dawn on him of what was happening.

“I’m sorry!” Miaka said.

“No...” he whispered in disbelief, stepping back from her. He took a breath to scream.

“No! Don’t!” Miaka dashed forward to clamp a hand over his mouth, and the momentum send them both crashing to the floor.

No longer forever-seconds, what happened whipped around Miaka with the unfathomable speed of a whirlwind, and suddenly she was falling into an explosion of red light that burned through her like lasers, like red hot needles. In pain and panic, she struck at it blindly—

*

“Wait a minute!” Keisuke protested. “You expect me to believe our sisters are in some fantasy world inside this book!?”

No, not really, Hiro thought, but it was the truth, no way out of it. “Look, I’ll prove it to you the way it was proved to me.” He opened the book to blank space near the end and handed it to Keisuke. “All right, now flip forward until you find the last printed page, then start reading.”

“Hiro...”

“Just humor me, okay?”

With a glare and a shrug, Keisuke started flipping. As Hiro watched, it seemed like forever until the pages came to rest and Keisuke’s eyes began scanning text. “The Seiryuu no Miko...”

“That’s Miaka, remember?”

“Yeah, right!” Keisuke accused. “You could’ve at least picked a character who acted a little bit like my sister! What’s this really about!?”

“What are you—” Hiro started, then realized. The book was saying something about Miaka, something to shock Keisuke this much, and she was in Konan Palace... Panic seized him and he snatched the book back. ‘Assaulted by the red light, the Seiryuu no Miko struck at the Mark of Suzaku on the Emperor’s neck’—“Oh, GOD, NO!!!”

*

Nuriko lay a hand on Chichiri’s shoulder as she flexed it painfully. “Is something wrong, Chichiri?”

“I suddenly got this pain no da...” Chichiri said. “But... it’s not like a pain in my body; I don’t like this no da...”

Yui struggled to look over a massive pile of dolls and toys in her arms. “What do you mean ‘not in your body’?”

“Do you mind? We’re having a festival here, boost morale and crap,” Tasuki complained. “Can’t you lighten up for one—Ow!” He slapped his neck, as if stung by a wasp.

At the same moment, the other Sei of Suzaku mirrored the gesture in their own ways, and Yui even felt a twinge there herself. Chichiri clutched that spot—the left side of her neck, and cried out in pain.

“We all felt that!” Chiriko said.

“The connection between a god’s Seishi no da...” Chichiri said. “Something’s happening to one of us no da!”

Yui dumped the toys onto the pavement. “Hotohori!”

“You’re right!” Nuriko realized. “Come on!” She turned and dashed down the street.

“I’ll teleport ahead of you no da!” Chichiri called. With two fingers to her face, she concentrated on Hotohori, on where in the palace he might be...

*

Miaka clambered back from the advancing edge of the puddle of blood. Hotohori lay still, the red light had faded away, but she’d been thrown to the whims of yet more horrors—the blood on the floor, spreading as though intent on chasing her down. Blood was splattered over her clothes...

The door rattled, and she ran to hide behind one of the carved columns by the balcony as it burst open and Chichiri dashed in, her long braid streaming in the air behind her.

“Emperor!” the guards cried. The shaft of light from the doorway cut across where he lay on the floor, and the blood on the smooth tiles and on his clothes, which had looked black-purple in the dark, now glowed a violent and deadly red.

“Get a doctor no da!” Chichiri shouted. From where Miaka stood, she heard footsteps leaving the doorway, and neither of the guards came in—only Chichiri ran to Hotohori and fell to her knees at his side.

“Hotohori-chan, please don’t die no da...” She covered the wound on his neck with her hand, and a soft, red glow surrounded it.

There wouldn’t be a better chance to escape—the guards had gone for the doctor, and Chichiri was distracted. Chichiri might stop her, though, with her magic... As quietly as she could, she crept up behind her and skirted around her, trying to stay as far away as she could and still be in striking range if she had to fight...

Chichiri’s mask-face pinched tight with effort as the red glow of her healing power continued to gain intensity. The entire posture of her body was focussed into it, as if she were pitted in grim combat against Hotohori’s wounds.

Miaka moved around her slowly. Stealthy, maybe, but maybe also watching for the outcome. At last, Hotohori moaned and stirred, opened his eyes... His gaze came to rest on Miaka; his eyes widened, and he struggled for his voice. “A-aah...!”

Chichiri whipped around to follow his gaze, and Miaka screamed in panic. She darted forward and slammed her fist, knife-point down, against Chichiri’s back, turned and ran blindly for the door.

Eyes squeezed shut, she slammed into something in the doorway and it entangled her, seized her roughly. She opened her eyes to find herself in the grip of a red-armored guard. Only one of them had gone... “You’re the servant girl!” His eyes darkened with rage as he scanned the blood on her clothes. “You attacked the Emperor!”

“No!” she cried. “Let me go!”

“Traitor!” he shouted. “Assassin! I’ll—Aagh!”

Suddenly the guard faltered and she cried out and dodged as he fell forward to the floor at her feet. The handles of three throwing knives protruded from his back.

Out of nowhere, yet another pair of hands took her shoulders—gently this time. She looked up to find Amiboshi there holding her, with a few of the black-cloaked men around him. “Miaka, come on. We have to go,” he said.

“No!” she cried, struggling free of his slight grip. “I don’t want to go back! I won’t go!”

“Miaka-sama, you have to! You’re in danger here! We’re your Seishi, please, let us protect you!”

“No, no! Leave me alone!”

As she started back from him, one of the black cloaks seized her from behind with a wet cloth over her face, and she struggled desperately against the sweet, toxic smell. “No choice. We have to get out now,” she heard one of them saying far away as the drug smothered her into a dark, heavy sleep.

Amiboshi stared in sorrow and horror at having to drug his own Miko, and then at the blood on her clothes, the dead guard here, like the ones at his room... Looking through the doorway, he saw Chichiri laying there, collapsed on top of Hotohori with the knife still stuck in her back. The floor was awash in blood.

If only I could do something... He’d come here hoping to resolve this conflict with as little bloodshed as possible, but now he’d become part of such a horrific deed... How could the Gods just watch a night like this happen? If they give us Seishi their power, how can we still be so helpless to stop this?

“Amiboshi-sama!” one of the black-cloaks called. Another one had taken the now-unconscious Miaka up in his arms to carry her. “Come! Now!”

With a last, wrenching glance through the doorway, Amiboshi ran after them.

*

To Be Continued...

*

PREVIEW

The other Sei of Suzaku are rushing to Chichiri and Hotohori’s rescue, but the night’s events will cast a shadow over the embarkation for Hokkan tomorrow. Although Yui’s pain at leaving her home and her beloved is deeply felt, greater still is the anguish in Kutou that accompanies Miaka’s return.

Next Time: