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Chapter Six: The Third Warrior
Akane:
The idea, in theory, was a simple one. Hotohori had arranged to send for all those who showed 'particular excellence in martial or literary arts', and once they were all before us, we would pick out who among them bore the sign of Suzaku. Tamahome and Miaka had already been making bets over which of them could find a celestial warrior first.
I was not nearly so confident.
They had gathered in the courtyard; hundreds of them, all the best and brightest stars of the Konan Empire. I stood next to Hotohori on a covered dais from which we could see almost all of them, but neither of us was quite sure how to begin. Tamahome had already warned me that the symbol often appeared only under stress, so it was possible that at least one of the Seishi would not even realize what they were.
Of course, this was the same Tamahome that was now taunting them in the hopes of making it appear.
It had become apparent to me early in our acquaintance that Tamahome served only one function. He beat people up. He was good at it. He was the single best martial artist I'd ever seen, and I'd already had two or three chances to appreciate that. But--this?
"I see we are getting nowhere with this," Hotohori remarked quietly, echoing my sentiments. Warriors of Konan were flying in all directions, til only Tamahome was left standing proudly no top of the heap.
I just sighed. "We'd better come up with a better idea quickly...."
Of course, we weren't fast enough. Miaka, buoyed by Tamahome's victory over the warriors and his simultaneous failure to uncover even one of Suzaku's Seishi, pranced out in front of them.
She was making fun of them too.
"Akane--" Hotohori's voice was something mingled of wonder and trepidation as Miaka hurled insults at the gathered warriors. "What is she doing?"
I didn't really have time to formulate an answer. I heard Miaka yell something about "limp Chinese noodles", and mayhem broke out in the courtyard. Miaka, closely followed by all the best warriors of Konan, raced toward the dais we were standing on. The Emperor, his advisors, and I tried to scatter out of the way.
Not all of us were quite fast enough.
Somebody threw something--a hammer, I think, but I wasn't exactly looking close at the time. The pillar holding up our little roof cracked. I heard a few people screaming:
"Akane!!" --Hotohori, I think.
"Heika!" --one of the advisors...on second thought, probably two or three of the advisors.
"Heeeelp! Tamahome!" --Miaka. Definitely Miaka.
"Nooooo!" --who? An unfamiliar voice--
And then the walls came crashing down around us. Only Hotohori and I were still in the way of the falling ceiling, it seems as though the rest of our faithful attendants had all scattered. I cupped my arms over my head, the way they teach in earthquake drills in school, and at least one block of stone glanced off my elbow. It hurt. Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling about trying to deflect the entire ceiling.
But I didn't have to. A young woman--where had she come from?--dashed between us, and spread her arms, caught the falling stone...and held it up.
Remains of rock were still falling in all directions, but the main block of ceiling, the one that was absolutely sure to crush us beyond all recognition, was hovering in the air, held up by a beautiful, dark-haired woman no older than me, with a look of fierce concentration on her face.
She flexed, and the roof went flying. I didn't see where it landed. I was staring at her. So was Hotohori.
Our mysterious savior grinned sheepishly, but there was still worry in her eyes. "Are you all right?"
I think we both just nodded dumbly. And when Hotohori did speak, it wasn't exactly an answer to her question.
"What--how did you--where did you come by that great strength?"
But I already knew. The girl's collar had fallen open, and I could see, peeking out from its edge, the mark of the Willow on her skin. It seemed as though Miaka was going to win the bet after all. "Look--"
Then he saw it too. "Who are you?"
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Nuriko:
He asked me, "Who are you?" and I wanted to cry. I wanted to drop to the ground and bury my head in the stone and scream, "Is this what it takes for you to notice me? How long have I watched you, and you never noticed me?" But I didn't. The Emperor, the Suzaku no Miko, and me--and in that dust-covered trio, I was the calm one. I gave them two names to know me by. One was mine, truly, and one was not.
"I am called Kourin," I said, "...or Nuriko."
The Suzaku no Miko stepped toward me then. She was like the Emperor in many ways--I thought so even at first. So capable, so calm--and so lost and lonely, if you knew where to look. Just like me.
"Thank you," she said. It made me feel warm. "I'm so glad we found you. And," she added, and I swear she almost laughed, "Your timing was impeccable."
There were people around us again. The boy--the other warrior--and the girl with him. I felt the most intense rage wash over me when I saw her skipping up to us. It was her fault--her stupidity in taunting those warriors had almost gotten my Emperor and my Miko killed. The same Emperor who for almost a year I had watched and loved and adored from afar. The Miko who already spoke to me as a friend, and whose coming had provided a chance for him to notice me.
I could cheerfully have killed her. But I had a better idea.
I sidled up to the other warrior--it was easy to see she was infatuated with him, after all. "Who do we have here...?" I asked, in the most sultry voice I could manage, and kissed him on the lips.
What I could possibly do with Tamahome once I had stolen him, I had no idea. But right then, it all boiled down to the single sound of Miaka's strangled sob.
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