Movement 4: Finale: Allegro molto

“A style of music that is received and approved by many peoples, and not just by a single land, a single province, or a particular nation, must, if it is also founded on sound judgment and healthy feeling, be the very best.”
Chapter XVIII “How a Musician and a Musical Composition Are to Be Judged”

“…that which does not come from the heart does not easily reach the heart.”
Chapter XIV “Of the Manner of Playing the Adagio”

It turns out that you can’t just drown, unfortunately. At least, I couldn’t. My limbs started moving on their own, pushing me up so I could breathe.

Drowning is easier when your arms and legs grow too tired to move on their own, and logs and garbage keep smacking into your head, and the undertow is strong enough to pull you down even when your body struggles to stay afloat. When that began to happen, I felt both exhausted and relieved. If I ever try to kill myself again, I’m definitely trying the same thing. I’m not sure I could actually plunge a knife into my heart or drag one across my throat, but it’s easy to throw yourself into a river. And afterwards, if you chicken out, it’s too late. It’s perfect.

I only remember being very tired, and then a pain in my head, so I must have hit it on something. That would have been the perfect time to slip underwater and stop breathing, but I’m profoundly unlucky, I guess.

The people who saved me are normal, regular people, and I like them. But they’re one more group to deceive, to impress, to try (with more or less success) to please.

Kaika has a nice name. I like it. He has a nice life, too, in a nice country. His parents were so glad to have me, and I feel sorry for them. It’s kind of sad and creepy how they miss their son so much that they decided I was going to take his place.

I couldn’t remember very much at first—it wasn’t a lie when I told them that I didn’t know my name or where I’d come from. It didn’t take me long before things started coming back, but why say anything about it? They were so glad to have Kaika back, and I didn’t mind being him for a while. Or even permanently. I learned to swear by a new god, to eat food with new spices, and to perk up my ears when I heard a new name. I carved a new flute and learned new songs in new modes.

I guess that when you almost die, your body takes over and pushes all of the unnecessary things out of the way. When I looked for them, I found my seishi powers huddled up in a little ball inside my heart, hidden away from even my little brother. I left them there, cut off from the world, so no one would ever sense that I was anything out of the ordinary—and none of the Seiryuu seishi would be able to track me down.

After a while, I stopped worrying that Nakago would send someone to find me. They must really believe I’m dead, I thought, because if they didn’t, they’d be desperate to find me: they needed me to summon Seiryuu. I missed my brother, but I’d saved the world.

I feel bad about Seiryuu—I kinda figure I’m out of his good graces, since I abandoned the priestess and everything—but I try not to feel guilty for my decision. I think I’m doing the right thing, although it will never make up for what I’ve done.

I pray to Byakko now (which is maybe even more of a betrayal, but that’s what I am right? a traitor). At least Byakko keeps his country safe from civil war, which is more than Seiryuu ever did, although maybe he would if we asked him. Ha! That’s never gonna be one of the top three priorities, as long as Nakago’s in charge and Soi and Tomo follow him around like adoring puppies. And if Seiryuu no miko is anything like Miaka, he’ll have her wrapped around his little finger.

After a few weeks, I didn’t think about these things so much anymore.

The people in this village are friendly, and I… I’ve never been part of something like this before, at least not since I was a little kid. These people work together in the fields; they’re always running back and forth between houses to borrow kitchen utensils and tools; they gather together in the evenings to sing and dance (which I love listening to). This is the peace brought by the protection of Byakko, and Kutou can never, never destroy it.

People like me here. I mean, they like Kaika. Who doesn’t like a boy who is always polite and respectful, who never speaks a cross word or disagrees with anything, who is never annoyed and always compliant, and who is humble and coy?

I know it’s not me that people like—it’s just who I pretend to be. I’ve been pretending so long I don’t even know who I am; all I know is that I’m a liar. If these people got to know me, they wouldn’t like me at all. But I’ve enjoyed getting to know them—running errands for my “mother”, playing tag with the little girls that live next door, bartering in the market for the vegetables we can’t grow in our garden. (People always give me good deals, ‘cause I’m cute. Heh.)

I love Makan village. So when Dad and Mom were talking about the giant polecat that was bothering the neighbors’ livestock, I said I’d hunt it down. I kept imagining it taking one of the girls next door—they’re about the right size. I know that, even without my seishi powers, I’m good at hunting and killing things, so I was the perfect one to take care of it. There aren’t that many young men in the village.

My parents looked at each other and shrugged.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Dad. “You should go now—it’ll be active at night.”

“If you promise to be careful,” Mom added.

I laughed. “I will, I promise.” (I’m too cavalier with my promises, huh?)

It gets cold in the desert at night, so Mom wrapped me up in this huge old cloak. She’s a little overprotective. Dad gave me a short sword (or a long knife; it was kind of an awkward length) and a lantern.

The polecat left large, obvious tracks, but it was a while before I figured out which were the freshest. It took me about an hour to catch up to it, and by then it was dark. I could see its eyes shining in the lamplight with that eerie glow that animals have. It was ripping pieces off the carcass of a calf that it had stolen and dragged into the foothills.

“Hmph,” I said. “I found you.” I always talk to animals like that.

It took one look at me and skittered away. I gave chase; the frustrating thing led me down pebble-covered paths and through thickets of prickly brush. At last, I emerged from between two boulders to see it crouched, backed up against a rock wall. I had it cornered.

“This is where you’re hiding,” I said. “I finally found you. And now, I’m going to kill you!!”

Don’t laugh! I know, I was being totally overdramatic.

The animal stared back at me and snarled.

“I won’t let you get away,” I said, snarling right back. “You’ll never leave this place alive!!”

It wasn’t going to come any closer to me, and if I moved forward, it’d scoot around me and get away again, so I figured that the best thing was to throw the blade. I knew I could hit it.

I lifted the sword up and shifted my feet to a better position for throwing. The lamplight moved, too, and that’s when I saw her—the dirty girl lying there, flat on her stomach, crying. She must have fallen from the cliffs above. The poor thing probably thought I’d been threatening her. I wanted to go to her and see if she was all right, but the polecat was hovering right above her, perfectly willing to take a bite out of her if it had to.

I set the lantern down on a rock. It shone right into the polecat’s eyes. “Get down!!” I commanded the girl, motioning with my free hand.

“Wha—?” She obeyed, and I flung the blade, with a flick of my wrist, right into the head of the animal. Its skull split open, which was not pleasant. It was definitely dead.

“Wha—? Wha—!?” the girl cried. Evidently, she was having difficulty speaking.

I ran to her and put my arms around her, helping her sit up. She whimpered when her ankle got knocked against a rock, so I held her close to me and wrapped her up in the extra folds of my cloak—but I was still looking at the polecat, making sure it wasn’t moving.

“Are you all right!?” I asked, distracted. “It was a giant polecat. It was about to get you.”

And then I pulled her forward, into the lantern’s light, and I looked at her properly. It was Miaka, and I knew her at once (who could forget those ridiculous clothes she has?), but I have lots of practice staying composed. I just did what Kaika would have done.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, letting my concern show. “You need some help?”

I stood and offered her my hand. She looked up at me, terrified and confused. “B—But… Why?”

“Hm?” I blinked at her and smiled as though I were bewildered.

She collapsed into my arms.

“H-Hey… Are you all right!?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, and I started to get a little panicky. It was a long walk back to the village, especially with my arms full of unconscious girl, and I had no idea what had caused her to black out. Nobody loses consciousness because of a twisted ankle. Or even a broken ankle…! Her chi was so weak that I hadn’t even sensed her. Something really bad had obviously happened. Why was she in Sairou? And where were her seishi? If they had been around, I would have known.

Mom and Dad, needless to say, were surprised to see me at the door with a body in my arms. Mom calmed down a little bit when she realized that it wasn’t a corpse.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” I panted. “I left… the sword… on the mountain.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go get it later. Who’s this?”

I shook my head. “She didn’t say. She’s hurt.”

We put her on the bed in my room and moved my things into the common room. I sat up with her for a while, hoping she wake up, but she had a very high fever and was delirious. She moved around a lot—almost thrashed sometimes—and talked, but nothing that was enlightening. I had to pretend not to know her name.

Mom kept saying how pretty she was and hinting that she’d be grateful that I’d saved her life. I almost laughed aloud. Not likely.

She didn’t wake up the next day, and she didn’t wake up the day after that, either. I still had to do chores and run errands, which was frustrating, but it was worse to sit by her bedside and see no change in her. We had a doctor in, and he wrapped the twisted ankle, but he didn’t have an explanation for the fever. He just said that if anyone else got sick, we should quarantine the house. He gave us some medicine, though, made from Bohkyaku, the “oblivion herb”.

It had been a while since I’d had anyone to worry about. I think I must enjoy worrying, with the way I fret about people. Well, I mostly just enjoy taking care of people, especially people who can’t take care of themselves.

I was sitting at my bedroom window, worrying about Miaka, when she began to thrash violently and cry aloud. I went to her at once and bent over her, searching her face. “Hey! Are you all right!?”

Even when people can’t answer, you still sometimes talk to them, you know? But this time, she opened her eyes, and I could see recognition in them.

“Good, you’re finally awake!” I said cheerfully.

She sat up. She looked terrified.

“Don’t worry. You’re in my house in the village of Makan near the Sairou border.”

She didn’t answer, so I went on. “Um, you were out for three days. You must have been pretty darn tired.”

“You’re right,” she said slowly, “I was. So you’re not Suboshi, are you? Why did you…”

My heart went ka-thunk—when did she meet Suboshi?—but I just smiled and tried to look confused. “Me? I’m…”

“What is it, Kaika!?” Mom’s voice came from the other room. Honestly, can’t I even have a conversation without them pouncing? Are all parents like this?!

“Oh! You’re awake, young lady!” said Dad.

Mom bustled in after him. “Does your leg still hurt?”

“Oh!” Miaka bit her lip. “No, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Of course it doesn’t!” I said quickly, more bubbling over than talking. “We gave you a potion with Bohkyaku. The best healer in the village made it. You even forget you were ever in pain! But if you take too much, it can kill you. It’s really potent stuff!”

I winked at her. “Now you should relax and get more rest.”

“Kaika, your flute is so soothing. Play a tune for her,” suggested my mother.

I agreed at once. It was a new tune, but as soon as I began to play, I could tell that Miaka recognized me. She is so easy to read.

Eventually, Mom and Dad left and went back to doing whatever they were doing before. Miaka just lay there and cried.

Oh, you have no idea how much I wanted to do something for her! I wanted to brush her tears away and kiss her until she felt better. I wanted to beg her to tell me why she was so sad. I wanted to know who hurt her so I could find him and tear him into little pieces.

She did go back to sleep, but her sleep this time was more peaceful.

In the morning, my mother decided that Miaka was well enough to sit with us and eat. She went into my room and helped her dress, which in my imagination was kind of like trying to shove a worm into a stalk of bamboo: it’s a lot easier if the worm is helping you. Anyway, it was taking them forever, so I pushed the curtain aside and peeked in cautiously, hoping I could withdraw unnoticed if I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Mom, we made breakfa—“

I stopped short, my lips still parted. Miaka had been “shoved into” the prettiest dress I’d seen since coming to Makan, and she was beautiful. Mom had even done up her hair in matching ribbons. She looked so pure and fragile and sad.

“You look wonderful,” my mother was saying as she slipped on Miaka’s shoes. “The clothes I wore as a girl fit perfectly on you!”

“Umm,” said Miaka. “My school uniform…”

“Oh, it needs some fixing,” said my mother dismissively. “It might take a while because of the odd fabric.” She turned to me and grinned. “What do you think, Kaika?”

She was baiting me, I knew, but it’s easy to have self-confidence when you’re pretending to be someone else, so I just grinned back. To Miaka I said, “Wow! You sure look cute!”

She colored a little and looked away.

I laughed and helped her into the other room and into a chair.

“Here, eat up!” Mom pushed a plate over to Miaka. She was way too enthusiastic. It was embarrassing.

“But…” Miaka hesitated, and I started to worry again. Since when did Miaka refuse food?

“Yesterday, you went without,” my mother pressed. “You have to eat to build up strength.”

Miaka considered this. “That’s true, huh?”

My parents smiled and agreed. They hadn’t said two more words before she’d devoured an entire plate of food. I wasn’t worried anymore, but I’d forgotten how disgusting it is when she eats. We couldn’t do anything except stare at her.

“You’re right,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food. “If I don’t eat it’s bad for me, so I’ll just have a bite.”

She reached for another bowl, and Dad said, “On second thought, a starved body should take it a little at a time!”

She stopped. “You think so?”

Everyone was relieved.

Breakfast went normally after that. Mom and Dad tried to make ordinary conversation, and Miaka did her best to answer their questions. It was frustrating to watch—couldn’t they see how upset she was?—but then, maybe the best thing was to just act as though nothing was wrong. What else could be done?

Dad finally landed on the touchy subject. “I heard something about a journey, Miaka? Where are you going once your legs are healed?”

She looked down and didn’t say anything.

Dad grinned and winked at Mom. Oh, no, he was about to say something awful. How could I stop him?

“Of course you could always stay and be Kaika’s bride.”

I think I might have spat out my food. “Dad! Mom!” How could they say something like that?! I hate my parents.

“Hey!” said Mom. “You’re the right age! You went to kill the polecat, and after you did, you brought back this fine, young girl. What else would we think?”

“Stop it!” This was so humiliating; I think my whole face must have turned red. “I’m not even thinking of a bride right now!”

And then Miaka started crying.

“Miaka!” Mom turned to her, surprised. I could tell she felt really bad. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Oh, no. It’s not you,” sniffled Miaka. “I’m sorry!” She hesitated. “I’m going to my room. Don’t worry, I’d just like to be alone.”

She looked so sad.

“Let’s go outside!” I said, standing and offering her a hand.

“D-Don’t bother with me—“

“It’s beautiful out there! Being cooped up in here won’t help you.”

If there’s anything I know about, it’s sadness. And sitting around alone can only help for so long. After a while, you’re just indulging yourself.

“I’ll be your feet,” I offered.

“I don’t want to do any—“

So I just picked her up. She’s tiny.

“Hey!” she shrieked. “Put me down!!”

I laughed at her and turned to face my parents. “Mom, Dad, the lady and I are going for a walk!”

They watched us bemusedly and started saying how good we looked together and other idiotic things that parents say.

Miaka was still flailing around in my arms. “Come on!! Let me down!! I’m not in the mood! Amibo—I mean—Kaika!”

I just laughed at her again; the confusion on her face was so eloquent. I’m sure she’d never seen me act this way before.

We were barely out of the house before we were swarmed by people. Can you blame them? Miaka is so adorable, and more importantly, she was new. Makan is the perfect size for a village: the size where new things come often enough to keep everybody entertained but rarely enough to make sure we’re never jaded.

There are men in Makan, but you’d never know it if you had to spend the day with me. Seriously, I love being Kaika, but girls just won’t leave me alone. Plus, all of the older women think I’m charming, and I’m always having to make conversation with them on lame topics like how my parents are doing and what a nice day it is.

Well, to be perfectly fair, I sort of encourage them. So I’m not complaining as much as I am bragging, I guess. (Which I suppose I should feel guilty about, but… All I can do is shrug helplessly and laugh. Sorry.)

Like I said, it’s easy to be confident when you’re not yourself.

Li-san from next door was heading toward her home with a basket of peaches. She smiled when she saw me and came over, holding out a piece of fruit toward Miaka. “Young lady! Here, have a peach.”

Miaka was surprised, but she accepted the fruit.

Before I could thank Li-san, Kuei-san and Yuchun noticed us and came over, too. Yuchun had been cooing over Kuei-san’s baby, Bohai. He’s a couple of months old now. Usually, Kuei-san lets me hold him, but this time my arms were full of Miaka, so I just smiled at him, and he smiled back. I like babies because there’s nothing dishonest about them.

“It’s you, Kaika!” Yuchun is a little older than I am, and she always tries to flirt. She’s a lot of fun. “Is this the girl who was attacked by the giant polecat?”

I was more than happy to show Miaka off. I beamed at Yuchun and opened my mouth to introduce her, but Li-san interrupted me.

“Thank goodness your wounds were only minor,” she said, looking Miaka over with that concerned-and-experienced look that only old women have. “Come by and visit! We have some delicious cinnamon tea.”

Poor Miaka didn’t know what to say. I don’t think she’s used to people being so familiar with strangers.

Yuchun, not to be outdone, plopped her hat on Miaka’s head. “How adorable you look in the clothes from our village! But you’re not wearing the traditional hat!”

Miaka had embarrassment written all over her face. “I can’t buy it! I don’t have money!”

All four of us laughed at her.

“They don’t want money,” I explained. “They’re just being friendly.”

After a few more minutes of this sort of happy, pointless, chatter, I managed to extricate us with the excuse that Miaka wasn’t really up to dealing with crowds just yet. I decided not to go through the busy part of town, so we made it to the outskirts of town without having to do much more than wave (well, nod on my part, since my hands were full) at several more people.

At last, I set her down in the shade under a huge tree. It was morning, but it was already getting warm, so I thought that would be the best place for her. She was, after all, recovering from an illness.

I sat down on her right and waited for her to speak, but she didn’t say anything, so I started filling in the silence. “Isn’t this tree amazing? This is my favorite place!”

She didn’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry to drag you out,” I continued, “but I couldn’t just let you lie there. I won’t ask what happened…” (even though I was dying to know) “…but you shouldn’t withdraw like that.”

I sighed, frustrated by her refusal to answer. “People always do this. One bad thing happens, and suddenly everything in the world turns evil to them. Then next thing you know, things really do turn bad. You lose hope. I didn’t want that to happen for you, so…”

“It’s fine for you!” she snapped. “Isn’t it, Amiboshi!?”

I stared at her, shocked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry like that, before or since.

“You just forget everything!!” She was practically screaming at the top of her lungs. “It’s not fair to lecture me! My companions, people I love… even my best friend! They’re all gone. I’ve had terrible things happen around me and to me, and I can’t forget! Forgetting would be a relief!”

She turned to face me, spitting out her words like venom. “And you! You get a peaceful village, loving family, and nice neighbors! It’s not fair!! And you get to forget what you did to us. The pain that you inflicted on us! You don’t remember anything!”

It felt like a slap across my cheek. I was so stunned that I think, for an instant, she might have been able to see on my face what I was actually feeling. It was a matter of course that she believed things like that about me—I’d made it so when I began this particular deceit—but I still wished that I could explain to her how guilty I really feel. I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want her to think ill of me, especially if it’s not true.

Forgetting all of these things would be a relief, wouldn’t it?

She turned away, shocked by her own outburst.

“I’m sorry,” she said shortly. “I was upset, and I took you for someone else! You’re not Amiboshi. I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I can’t even think straight. Don’t let what I said bother you.”

I looked at her for a moment, thinking about all of the suffering in the world, and wondering what could have happened to her to change her so much. Was it Nakago? Or had he made Tomo or Ashitare hurt her? Or… oh no… Suboshi? They couldn’t summon Seiryuu without me, but I had no doubt Nakago would still want to prevent Suzaku from being summoned.

Or maybe her pain wasn’t related to Nakago at all, but just the consequence of this world being the way it is: twisted, perverse, broken.

Why wouldn’t she think ill of me? I’d destroyed her. But it was for the sake of Good, and I wished I could explain that to her. And I wished I could start over in a place where I wouldn’t be forced to become a bad person. Someday, if I ever have another life, I won’t let other people be in charge of my integrity, but it’s too late this time.

I wish I’d been born in Konan—anywhere but in Kutou. I wish I’d been a Suzaku seishi. I wish I could’ve had a childhood where the biggest thing I had to worry about was winning a footrace or having to eat some kind of food I hated. Okay, I know nobody’s life is like that—everybody suffers just for being human, even people who have perfect lives—but seeing Suzaku’s seishi made me almost believe that there are happy people.

I didn’t want to lie to her any more.

So I raised my flute to my lips and began playing a song I’d played for her before. Between phrases, I paused and gave her an earnest, significant look. “It’ll give you strength and courage.”

She studied me. “Thank you,” she said, after a moment. Then she drew her knees up to her chest, careful not to bump her ankle, and began watching the insects that were busy in the dirt.

After a while, she tried to scoot herself up next to the trunk of the tree so she could lean against it. She was having a hard time, so I stopped playing, moved up next to her, and put her head on my shoulder. I figured my shoulder had to be more comfortable than the tree.

She seemed a little uncomfortable, but she gave in, and after a while, she put all of her weight against me and fell asleep. I couldn’t play the flute with her on my shoulder, but touching her was nicer than making music, anyway. I hadn’t had anyone to snuggle with for a long time.

After an hour or so, I took her back home, where I discovered that Miaka getting better did not mean that I didn’t have to do chores.

Dad and I came back to the house at noon to find a burning odor, the vegetables sticking to the bottom of the pot, and Mom missing. Dad set about rescuing lunch and told me to go find her.

She was in my room, kneeling with her hand over her mouth in shock. A bowl lay upturned on the floor; Miaka was twitching and sweating on the bed, her chi weak and erratic. There’s only one thing I know of that causes a reaction like that.

“Miaka!?” The room is too small for me to say that I exactly ran to her bedside, but I got there as fast as I could.

Dad must have heard me cry out; pushing aside the curtain, he entered and stopped, horrified. “You fed her Bohkyaku!?” he demanded.

Mom started to cry.

“How could you!?” He was angry. He never speaks to her like that.

“I wanted her to forget about Kaika’s past!” she cried, almost too hysterical to be understood.

“Oh, Mom…” What could have put an idea like that into her head? I must have been more obvious than I’d thought. Or maybe Miaka said something about it.

“If she made you remember your past, you’d go away and leave us forever!” Mom sobbed. “I didn’t realize that I used too much. I didn’t! Can you ever forgive me!?”

“Don’t be foolish, Mom.” I went to her. Of course she hadn’t done it on purpose—how could she think we’d think otherwise? It was so sad and endearing what she’d done, and I realized for the first time how desperately she loved Kaika. (I hate how you only learn important things when somebody’s upset.)

“You two saved me from drowning in the river!” I hugged her, overflowing with pity. “How could I leave you when I owe my life!?”

And with that, I as good as promised to stay with them forever. I hate making promises, because I always break them. I don’t know why I keep doing it. It just seems like sometimes it’s the only way to get people to calm down and shut up.

At any rate, Miaka’s struggling chi had me worried. Mom was completely worthless, and Dad doesn’t know the first thing about sick people. He’s kind, but he’s not gentle at all.

“I’ll take care of Miaka,” I said. “Dad, please go and calm Mom down.”

He nodded and helped Mom out.

As soon as they were gone, I bent over Miaka intently. She was struggling to breathe. Mom must have used a lot of Bohkyaku for it to work so quickly. A dose like that can make a person vomit for hours or cause a heart arrhythmia. The immediate danger, however, was the fever. Miaka was whimpering in pain, and her face was flushed. Touching her skin felt like putting my hand in an oven.

I suddenly realized that I’d never actually had to treat a sick person before. I mean, I’ve taken care of Suboshi lots of times when he was sick, but it mostly consisted of being patient and saying soothing things and breathing chi into him until he got better. I couldn’t do that for Miaka.

I wavered, uncertain of what to try. What did people do for fevers? Obviously, I had to cool her down somehow. I could put her in cold water, I thought, but it would take too long to haul enough water to fill a tub.

While I hesitated, delirium set in, and she began calling half-incoherently for Tamahome.

I think my heart broke for her. (And for myself. My heart broke for myself, too.)

I stroked my thumb over her forehead. It was so hot; my fingers must have felt like ice to her, or they would have if she’d been sensible of her surroundings.

My next action was based on the idea that maybe I could lower her fever by absorbing some of her heat. Before I say anything else, I’d like to make it clear that this decision was only, like, thirty-five percent influenced by me wanting to see her naked.

I unbuttoned my tunic and let it fall to the floor. Ordinarily, I’d fold it and or hang it on a chair or something, but that seemed too unfeeling (symbolically, anyway), given the situation. As gently as I could—I didn’t want to cause her any more pain, the little darling—I slipped under the blanket and settled myself over her body, straddling her thighs and finding a place for my nose in the crook of her neck.

I hadn’t expected her to be so soft. I don’t just mean that her skin was smooth, but that everything about her was yielding. We fit against each other perfectly, which I marveled at until she cried out in terror at some apparition, and I snapped back into the urgency of the moment.

Trying not to look at her, I untied her robe and pulled it open and down her shoulders. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me. Her skin was sickeningly warm. This is a really un-sexy description, but it felt like holding a huge cut of meat that had been just pulled out of boiling water.

It’s probably bad to indulge in thoughts about how attractive a girl is while she’s delirious, but I sort of couldn’t help it. I had one hand tangled up in her hair to keep her head from thrashing about and hurting her neck, and her hair was so thick and curly and perfect for my fingers. Her neck and ear were soft against my cheek. And her… her breasts were pressed against my chest, which was breathtaking, really. Honestly, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I decided I could lie like that forever and never ask for a thing more.

I was trying to memorize everything about the way she felt and simultaneously to think about something—anything—that wasn’t erotic. I suppose you know how well that worked. I felt as if I was taking advantage of her… but not enough to horrify my brain into stopping its train of thought.

Anyway, the cooling-her-fever-thing that was the purpose of this exploit didn’t seem to be working. I guess, under ordinary circumstances, a reasonable person would decide to discontinue his course of action when it got no results. I wasn’t exactly reasonable at the time, so I decided instead that it just wasn’t working yet, and that I should continue until it did.

I kissed the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. She stirred and sort of wriggled underneath me, which was wonderful. I bit my lip and amended my declaration that I’d be content just lying next to her…

Thank goodness my parents didn’t come in during all of this, because I have no idea what I would have said if they had. Probably, I would have gotten in trouble and been made to listen to a long lecture. Naturally, this did not occur to me at the time. (Remind me never to get involved in something like this again—it’s like my powers of reason left.)

Her stirring was getting more and more like struggling, so I opened my eyes and raised myself up on my elbows, searching her face. Suddenly, she let out a horrific scream. “No!!”

My head jerked back from the sheer velocity of the sound, and I almost panicked, suddenly worrying that Mom and Dad would come back to check on us. A second’s worth of listening, however, revealed that Mom was still shrieking hysterically in the next room. I couldn’t understand the words, but Dad was using his “please-be-reasonable” voice.

Miaka’s movements were almost violent. “Let me go,” she cried. “No!!”

I thought at first that she was talking to me, but then I realized that she was still suffering from delusions. I don’t know what she thought was happening, but it must have been very frightening. Her eyes flickered around the room, unseeing, and she shook in my arms. She was beginning to convulse.

I was terrified. I was going to watch her die, and it was my fault. Well, I knew, of course, logically, that it was my mother’s fault, not mine, but I’m a lot smarter and more conscientious than Mom is, so it was my responsibility.

I can offer no explanation for what I did next except that I was affected by whatever you call a feeling like this, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It was certainly a stupid thing to do, and I’m sure it will have consequences far beyond what I see now.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, gathering my chi. Then I wrapped her up in my arms, pulled her face to mine, and laid my lips on hers. Energy began to move through me and into her. I could feel her cooling against my skin. Her lips were soft and dry, and part of me wanted very much to press harder against them, but I knew better than to entertain thoughts that might interrupt the flow of chi.

As my soul woke from its sleep, I became aware of the world again. I could sense the patterns of energy that moved through the room, through the village, and even through Sairou itself. There were powerful forces in this country whose presences I hadn’t detected before. Three especially healthy sources of chi were glowing about where I knew Sairou’s capitol to be. I could sense Suzaku chi, but it was scattered and feeble—and certainly there were at least two seishi missing. I located Nakago, Tomo, Soi, and a new-yet-familiar chi that must belong to Miboshi. Seiryuu no miko was within a day’s journey, and a strong force urged me to go to her, pulling at my stomach in a way that made me feel sick. Suboshi was with her, and I felt him recognize me; I felt hope overwhelm him and render him speechless… and then I felt less and less of these things as I emptied myself of power.

I began to watch Miaka’s face desperately, praying that I’d be able to give her enough to make her recover. I didn’t want to pass out and fall on her and break her nose or something, but anything less might not be enough. At last, though, she opened her eyes, and I sighed with relief and almost collapsed onto her, tucking my face back into that place where her shoulder met her beautiful neck.

“Amiboshi…?” She was unsurprisingly confused, but I could tell I’d managed to heal her of the poison. “I…”

“Your fever’s down,” I panted. “Thank goodness!”

I lay fully on top of her. My eyelashes made swishing sounds against her hair when I blinked; the sounds were intriguing, and I tried to calm my gasping breaths so I could listen.

“I’m… sorry. I’m out of strength.” I sighed against her neck. “Can I stay here… for a while?”

She didn’t answer. For a long time, there was silence. I’m not heavy enough to squash her—and anyway, I imagine it’s a nice feeling, having a little bit of weight on you; it must make you feel safe—and I think she was too disconcerted to think about her breasts pressing against my chest. (I was thinking about them, though.)

“Let’s stay together…” I murmured into her neck and the pillow. I always start saying stupid, sweet things when I’m tired. “Let’s live here forever!”

“Ah! Amiboshi… I mean Kaika…” She was so cute. “What are you saying!?”

I hefted myself up onto my hands and looked down at her from what must have been an intimidating position, considering she was pinned half-naked beneath me. “As long as you’re here,” I tried to explain, “as long as you’re here, the world can’t hurt you anymore!”

Which is all I’m allowed to want for her… and I do want it for her.

“This is a peaceful village,” I went on. “They’re all nice people. You’ll be safe as long as you’re here. And Mom and Dad would be delighted.”

She looked up at me, eyes full of despair and weariness and all of the things I’ve felt, and I thought for a moment that she was considering. Suddenly she gasped, realizing how exposed she was, and rolled over onto her stomach. She buried her blushing face in the pillow.

Her modesty was the most endearing thing about her right then, and I couldn’t do anything for a minute but stare, adoringly, at the bare skin of her back.

“Your skin is perfect,” I murmured. “But it’s on the inside that you’re all torn up.” And I kissed her left shoulder blade.

That was a dumb, dumb, dumb thing for me to do. She freaked out and started crying. She was honestly terrified, and then I began to have strong suspicions about what had happened to her, because there aren’t many things that make a person scream in terror when she’s shown a bit of affection.

“S-S-Stop!” She couldn’t even speak through her tears. “O-Or I’ll… I’ll bite off my nose and bleed to death!!”

That was such a ridiculous thing to say, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. “Isn’t the old threat, ‘I’ll bite off my tongue’?”

She looked confused by my laughter and profoundly uncomfortable with the position she was in, so my amusement turned to pity. She was hurt too badly for me to heal, even though I wished I could; she was destroyed to the point of not caring whether she ever recovered. When that happens to a person, she either dies or goes on suffering for a long time, and if she eventually gets better, she’s changed. I saw her fear, and I understood that she didn’t want me.

I sat up and began dressing. “Your fever’s down,” I said quietly. “Take another day to rest up. Also, take the day to think about what I said.”

And then I left.

I had to get away before I broke into pieces in front of my parents. So, gritting my teeth, I pasted on a chipper smile and told them that Miaka’s fever had broken and that I was going for a walk. Then I fled to the bank of the river, slid between two boulders, and wept.

I woke up much later, not having intended to fall asleep. I still felt drained, but at least in control of myself again. I had a headache, and I knew I’d screwed up. Maybe Suboshi would be smart enough not to say anything about Nakago, and Miaka and I would still be okay… but probably not.

I hid my chi, which was starting to rebuild itself, and considered the situation. This called for planning. I had to arrange things so that Miaka would stay here, where she was safe; I had to make sure that neither god could be summoned, so that there wouldn’t be a war.

Miaka wasn’t up to making serious decisions, but that could work to my advantage. She’d always been easy to bully, so I figured that if I fixed everything ahead of time so all she’d have to do is concede, and then applied a little bit of pressure, she’d cave.

When I felt comfortable with my plan, I went back to the house. It wasn’t suppertime yet, which was lucky, because if I’d missed a meal, Mom would have panicked. But it was unlucky, too, because I had to sit through supper making conversation and pretending that nothing was wrong.

The next morning, everything in the universe conspired to steal my free time. Dad’s scythe broke, and I had to repair it. One of our oxen hurt its foot. Everything took twice as long as usual.

Mom brought us lunch out in the field. She said Miaka was feeling better. Dad was suffering in the heat, though, so I felt like I should offer to finish everything up myself.

By the time I washed up and mixed up the Bohkyaku solution—this time in the correct proportions—it was late afternoon.

I pushed aside the curtain and found Miaka sitting on my bed, staring at a scrap of paper. Her old clothes (those awkward, unflattering ones from her old world) were folded up in her lap. Mom must have finished mending them.

“Miaka…”

She looked up.

“How do you feel?” I offered her the bowl I was holding. “Here.”

She stared at it, not saying anything, so I said, “It’s Bohkyaku. Take a sip, and you’ll forget everything.”

She accepted the bowl, but she just held it in her hands and stared at it.

That wouldn’t do. All she had to do was drink it, and everything would be fine.

It seems like all the people I care about are too dumb to know what’s good for them. If everyone would just listen to me and do what I say, things would work out so much better—but it’s no good explaining this to other people. They don’t understand.

I sat next to her on the bed, trying to find the magic phrase that would convince her. “While you drink, concentrate and say, ‘I want to forget everything.’ And you won’t suffer anymore! It’s best for you! Give it a try.”

She looked at the bowl, wavering. Then she lifted it to her lips and closed her eyes, as if she were steeling her resolve. Suddenly, she raised the bowl up as high as she could reach and dashed it on the floor. It shattered. Shards of china scattered over the floor, and the potion splashed. Somehow, her feet and legs avoided being cut by the sharp edges: I checked to make sure.

I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t seem like she had it in her to be so decisive. And… my plans!

“Why?” I was able to ask finally. “Don’t you want your suffering to end?” That’s what she had said the day before, after all.

She started crying. “I… I can’t forget! They’re people who love me!! They’ve save my life!! I care for them! I can’t allow myself to forget them!!”

She set her chin and looked at me hard, like she was daring me to oppose her. I think… I think that maybe she’s a lot more grown-up than I gave her credit for.

I set my own chin and looked at the far wall. It’s sick how life works. With this new respect for her, my admiration for her grew, too. I really wished… I mean that it’s so lonely here and I… But the most important thing is that she knows best what would make her happy, and if I care for her, I will help her be happy in whatever way she wants. Still, it was hard not to be a little bitter.

“Is one of them Tamahome?” I asked, still looking steadily at the wall. “What about him? Didn’t you promise to never leave him?”

Miaka perked up into a trembling mess of animation. “What—What did you just say!? D-Do you…”

“Yes,” I said tiredly. “I remember everything. I am a Seiryuu celestial warrior. Your enemy.”

She reached out to me, tugging on my sleeve with a tentative hand. “Why!? Why did you fake amnesia!?”

I sighed, leaning forward and looking at the floor between my feet. This was a long speech, because it could only be explained if I started at the beginning, but at least I knew what I was going to say—I’d been thinking it over and over.

“I fell into the river on purpose,” I said. “I wanted to die.”

This was true. Now for the say-everything-fast-and-calm-so-I-don’t-start-crying part.

“When I became a spy posing as Chiriko and living as a Suzaku warrior,” I continued, “I felt that it was a mistake. Unlike Konan, my homeland Kutou is in a state of constant civil strife. My brother Suboshi and I were orphans. When her eminence Yui appeared from the other world, I firmly believed that once Seiryuu was summoned, Kutou would find peace. Nakago insisted that your summoning of Suzaku would prevent that peace.”

I looked at her to see if she was following. She nodded to indicate that she understood, so I went on.

“But then I realized that Kutou’s intentions were to use Seiryuu to dominate not only Konan, but also Sairou and Hokkan as well. If that were true, the war would kill countless numbers of people. I didn’t know what to believe in anymore. As a Seiryuu warrior, I had no choice but to fight you.”

I looked at her appealingly, but her eyes showed nothing but sympathy—which I should have expected. She’s genuinely that nice.

“As I fell into the river,” I said slowly, “I thought that my death would prevent the summoning of Seiryuu. I was just fed up with fighting.”

I slammed my fist down on the bed. “War is pointless!! Miaka, you think so, too, right!? Then stay here! We won’t have to fight anymore!!”

This was what I wanted—the closest thing to the “real” me as I could find. I know I lie, I know I deceive people, but this was real, and passionate, and desperate. And, of course (because this is the way life works for me and all other people born under inauspicious stars), it meant nothing.

“There is a way to summon Suzaku and Seiryuu, even without all the celestial warriors present,” said Miaka, slowly and quietly.

“What!?”

I stared at her. So I’ve just been wasting time here.

“I have to go!” she said abruptly.

“Go!? Where?”

“To wherever Nakago is. I have to rescue Yui!”

I made a face at her. She was crazy. That was the worst idea in the world.

“I’m changing my clothes so turn away,” she commanded. I obeyed, too stunned to do anything else.

“No, I’ve got a better idea!” I could hear the excitement and determination in her voice. “I’ll have Yui summon Seiryuu!”

Okay, that was the worst idea in the world.

“What!?” I almost squeaked.

“I can’t summon Suzaku anymore,” she explained. My head jerked up, but she hadn’t given me permission to look at her yet. If she meant what she was saying, then the worst thing possible had happened, and…

She was still chattering, almost as if she could make things true just by saying them as quickly as possible. “But Seiryuu can be summoned, right!? If Yui realized how Nakago was deceiving her, she’d understand! After that she’d never listen to Nakago or the Kutou rulers.”

I don’t know what deception in particular Miaka was talking about (although I’d cut off my own left hand if Nakago didn’t find some way to lie to Seiryuu no miko), but I understood enough about the situation to know that it wouldn’t work out the way Miaka thought it would. I don’t think Miaka has any concept of how manipulative Nakago can be, and from what I’ve been told about Yui... Well, she doesn’t sound like she has a strong will.

There was no sense in trying to tell this to Miaka, though. She was perfectly determined.

“You may be right about that,” I said slowly, trying to think on my feet, “but you’re going alone? Right into the enemy’s camp? Aren’t you afraid?”

I had been afraid to go alone into the enemy’s camp.

She stood, and I could hear the fabric of her skirt rustling as she pulled it on. “A long time ago,” she said, “somebody told me the characters for ‘battle’ and ‘running away’ differ by only a few lines, and yet their meanings are exactly opposite.”

I nodded; this was true.

Then she said, “If you run away because you ‘can’t do it’ or because you think something’s ‘impossible’, then you’ll become a coward as an adult. Sure, I’m afraid! I’d love to run! But becoming a coward isn’t in my plans! So I won’t run. I’ll battle it through!”

She moved into my line of sight, sparkling with joy and resolution. And she said, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to leave here. I’ll go alone! My ankle seems fine, too.”

You don’t have to leave here. Which meant, I’m not a coward, but you are, Amiboshi. And she was right. I am a coward. It was a shock to realize this, because I’ve always thought of myself as being brave and responsible and grown-up, but… No, she was definitely right. I knew what was right and what was wrong, but I was too afraid to face the consequences of right action, so I ran away. And all this time, I’ve been hiding.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Miaka, don’t go this very instant,” I said. “Let’s make some kind of plan. You don’t know these people as well as I do—I can help you.”

She shook her head. “I need to leave as soon as possible. I have to find Yui, no matter what!”

She was having a hard time tying up her hair, so I held one of her ribbons while she twisted her curls into a high ponytail.

And suddenly, there was shouting all around us, the whirring of arrows through the air, the crackle of burning thatch: all sounds I know the way a baby knows its mother’s voice.

Miaka looked at me, horrified, and stupidly ran outside.

I found her standing in the doorway, screaming. “Your parents!”

“Miaka…” I tried to calm her down.

“Amiboshi, your mother and father! What could have—“

And I realized what she was trying to say. I pushed past her. There, on the doorstep, were Dad and Mom. There was blood gushing from a wound in my father’s shoulder and Mom was lying, lifeless, in his arms.

They weren’t the only ones, either. The village was burning. Horses were screaming, children were crying… It was utter chaos. I could hear the hoof-beats of the soldiers’ horses, but I couldn’t see them through the smoke.

“Wh-Why!?” Miaka was wailing.

I couldn’t help but feel that I was the one who ought to be panicking. After all, it was my fault. If I hadn’t been distracted, if I’d kept even a tiny bit of my chi aware of the world around me, this couldn’t have happened.

“Hurry! Get them inside!” Miaka was giving a lot of orders and not doing anything. “Amiboshi!”

I helped Dad sit up, trying not to bump the arrow in his arm. I must have looked worried, because he said, “It’s not that bad. They got my arm, and your mother’s only fainted.”

Then I was relieved, but for a moment… For a moment, it was too much like something I’ve seen before, and I felt sick and angry.

I gently broke off the arrow where it entered the wound. As I’d thought, the fletching was the familiar color and shape of the Imperial Army of Kutou.

“This is a Kutou arrow!” I hissed to Miaka. “So they did find me!”

“What?” Apparently, she didn’t understand how these things worked (not a surprise).

“I used my chi to ease your fever,” I explained patiently. “Nakago must have detected it and found me.”

I was pissed off. Punishing me is one thing, but all of these other people, too? I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the incredible Nakago. Well, fine then. It was too damn late to be hiding my chi anymore, so I let it flare back into life. I stalked back into the house to get a cup of water for my father.

When I came back, Miaka was surveying the village, indignant. “In any case, this is too much!! Attacking innocent villagers like this…”

While I handed the cup to Dad, she took a step forward. I knew what she was doing. (I think that’s why I like her so much. She always thinks she can do things, and she gives her best. Even though she mostly fails. How adorable!)

“Miaka, wait! You can’t go out there!”

“I’m going!” she retorted. “Nakago needs a good punching out!!”

I agreed, but she certainly wasn’t the best person to do that. I doubt she even knows how to punch someone.

Before she could take another step, a soldier on a horse materialized out of the smoke. A mask covered his face, and he held a battle-axe. He was eerily serene in the confusion around him. Even his horse was peculiarly calm.

My eyes narrowed. Have I mentioned how much I hate soldiers?

“So you are here, Suzaku no Miko!” He laughed, looking down at Miaka’s surprised little face. “You will come with me!”

They weren’t here for me. They were here for her. But they found her because of me. Damn it, am I that predictable? How did Nakago know that the only person I’d give myself up for would be her?

I moved in front of her. “Step back, Miaka!” I said firmly. “And don’t watch this!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and began to play my flute. When the soldier started to scream, half of me wondered why I didn’t feel sorry for him. The other half of me was delighting in his suffering. It wasn’t the tiniest fraction of what he deserved—of what we all deserve—because we’re all evil in Kutou. We’re all made evil by our own country and by our own countrymen.

Then came that terrifying little voice inside me that grins and whispers, “Burst!!”

There was a final agonized cry, and the man’s eardrums exploded. He fell to the ground, which was already stained by the blood of Makan villagers, and his horse reared and trampled him before it ran away.

Weapon still at the ready, I glanced over my right shoulder to see if Miaka was okay. She was cowering behind me, watching me uneasily. And I don’t blame her; I’m afraid of me when I get like that.

“Don’t worry,” I said, all business. “The sound took out one man hiding around the corner and two others near the tree.”

And at least another ten or fifteen, I added silently. But she wouldn’t come across those corpses, and it was better for her not to know.

And then…

“I feel someone’s chi.” I looked at her with alarm. “It’s huge!”

“Amiboshi?” She clung to me.

“Is this…” I tried to recognize it; it was Seiryuu chi, and one I knew, but it had grown since I’d felt it last, and… “Tomo!?”

Once I thought of Tomo, I knew that’s who it was. He’s always impressed me, because he’s such a great artist. He always wants things to be beautiful and comfortable, but he also always get things done. I respect that about him, even though he’s hard to get along with sometimes. I didn’t want to fight him, so I thought I’d just help Miaka escape from him, but…

There was another chi there with him. In fact, I could feel all sorts of chi swirling around in the Sairou desert. Everyone was so close. But Tomo had some sort of opponent, someone wounded, and it was a chi I recognized.

“Tamahome!!”

Even if Miaka didn’t love him, I still owed him for not killing me when I deserved it. I turned to face her fully. “Miaka, Tamahome’s in trouble! He’s very close by!” I pointed so she could see the direction.

She looked down, her eyes welling up with tears just from hearing his name. “No. I can’t go to him.”

“Wh-why!?” She can go on a suicide mission across country to rescue Yui, but she won’t go to the love of her life?

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “But I have no right to be near him.”

I grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her gently, forcing her to look at my face. “That doesn’t make sense!” I said firmly. “You two were in love!! You have to be together!!”

Maybe there’s no such thing as true love for people like me. But there has to be for some people. Because, if Miaka and Tamahome can’t be together, then love is nothing but a lie or a trap. And that can’t be true. I don’t want that to be true. I need to believe that they’re going to be happy.

“I’ll bring him, okay? You wait for us here, okay?” I looked sternly at her until she nodded.

“Kaika…” My father’s voice came from behind me.

I turned around. “Dad!”

“If you go,” he said, “take this Bohkyaku with you. I’m certain it will help.” He smiled. “Your mother and I will be fine.”

“Dad…” He’d heard what I’d said. I was leaving, just like Mom was afraid I would. It must have stung him, the idea of losing his son again. “Thank you!” I said earnestly, taking the vial.

I will come back.

Miaka was still standing dumbfounded, as if the words she’d said so boldly earlier—the ones about battling evil instead of running from it—meant nothing to her. No matter; it didn’t make them any less true. She’ll see the truth of her own words soon enough, when she’s a little more healed.

And it will happen; I believe this. Because for her, anything is possible, and to her, all good things will come.

“You wait here, Miaka!” I commanded. “I’ll bring Tamahome back! I can’t think of you without him!”

And I set off running, this time toward my fate instead of away from it.

This is my redemption.