The Fox and the Phoenix

Kurama leaned over to address Chichiri discreetly. "What's the matter? Why are you upset that he noticed?"

"Hotohori is also in love with Miaka no da," the monk explained solemnly.

Kurama reflected upon that bit of information. No wonder the swordsman had been perfectly willing to kill his rival, even if the boy was one of the Seishi. To capture the heart of an emperor... "This Miaka must be a very special girl."

"Hai, Kitsune-san."

"Ne, Chichiri," Nuriko spoke up, "isn't that what Miaka called you at first? Because of your mask?"

"Hai," he said again, nodding. "But it suits our visitor so much better no da."

Mask? Kurama studied the monk's face. What kind of man needed to wear a smiling mask? How much was he hiding behind that blank, pleasant exterior? How much did he suspect about their guests' nature? More than he was revealing to his fellow Seishi, that now seemed certain.

Then the music drew Kurama's attention. In an effort to cheer the emperor, the youngest Seishi had begun playing a simple tune on his flute. Kurama could feel reiki swirling in the sound, directed by the boy's breath. He wondered about the others, whether they would display talents as well. The pattern indicated a strong likelihood.

He finished the rest of his meal in friendly silence, observing the Seishi interact with one another. They exhibited a lot of teasing, and it had apparently been designated "Pick on Tasuki Day," for the redhead bore the majority of the jokes. He, in turn, played up his injuries in a shameless bid for sympathy. Kurama pieced together that Tasuki was odd-man-out, having been a bandit before joining the group. They trusted him, though, since he had received his wounds in defense of the Miko.

Once the meal ended and Imperial servants swooped in to clear away the dishes, Kurama asked Chichiri if they had come to any conclusions about the possibility of opening a gate. He didn't want to appear impatient, but he did feel a touch of anxiety over what might be happening in his absence. The monk responded that he had been busy wrapping up an urgent matter, but he would hold a strategy session with the emperor in the morning and could discuss it then.

Kurama thanked him and retired for the night. He had been through a lot in one day, starting off with a battle and winding up stranded in an alternate plane. His last thought before drifting off was to hope Hiei had found a convenient place to sleep.

He raced, panting, across unfamiliar terrain, always aware of the vast *presence* behind him. Flames and talons raked at his tail, spurring him onward. He stumbled, regained his balance for a few paces, then fell again as the earth gave way beneath him.

He curled himself into a ball for protection as he rolled down a rocky slope. A spindly bush cushioned him at the base of the hill that had appeared out of nowhere. He paused a moment to catch his breath and lick his wounds, but then a sense of urgency pricked him. *Something* wanted him, wanted to punish him. Something large, powerful, and severely annoyed.

He whined, burrowing deeper into the bush, knowing that it couldn't hide him and yet too exhausted to run.

A shadow passed over him, accompanied by a hot wind and the angry cry of a bird. It settled to the ground in front of him, surrounded by a blazing red corona. It towered over him, filling his field of vision.

It wouldn't kill him, it promised. It would only follow. Follow him forever. Never allow him peace. If he tried to defy it, it would hurt him in ways he couldn't imagine.

It would start with his eyes...removing them would be no trouble at all. Then, perhaps, it would bathe itself in his blood.

"Why are you doing this to me?" the fox protested, his thoughts conveyed directly to the creature.

The bird beat its great wings and arched its neck to peer down at him, its near eye like a perfect ruby. It screeched its fury to the heavens. Because it had the *right*! Because the fox had done the same.

So run, little one. Run before a god's wrath. Know that there can be no escape.

Sunlight illuminated the room--normal light, not the harsh crimson of his dream. He blinked, the helpless terror fading, then ran a hand through his tangled hair. Was that concern he detected in his friend's expression? How strongly had the nightmare affected him?

If Hiei had been worried about him, the youkai didn't let it slip into his voice. "It's about time you woke up."

"Good morning to you, too," he responded, pushing the covers aside and reaching for the clothes he had left draped over his chair the previous night. He noted that his friend did indeed look good in blue.

He set about making himself presentable while Hiei waited impatiently. He needed the time to compose himself. What could have prompted such a dream? He didn't have a guilty conscience. He recognized the fiery bird as the statue in the temple, but despite his youko nature he hadn't actually done anything he seriously regretted.

The two went to breakfast together, arriving just as Tamahome and Miaka settled in. Kurama took the opportunity to study the Miko. She seemed a cheerful girl, and she certainly had a good appetite, polishing off several bowls before most at the table even finished their first serving. She was also dressed in a modern jacket, blouse, and skirt combination utterly unlike anything the Seishi possessed. Another stranded dimension traveler?

A squabble soon developed between Tamahome and Tasuki. From the words exchanged, Kurama determined that it had been the brainwashed Tamahome who had given the redhead such a beating, yet he didn't remember anything that had happened while he had been drugged and didn't entirely understand the other's grudge against him.

Hiei's attention remained on the quarrel, but Kurama's drifted to Miaka again. Her sheer optimism fascinated him. Her impression of the argument was revealed by her comment, "So, you two already get along."

"Looks like they're fighting to me," Nuriko pointed out. The lady added a morsel of food to the Miko's plate and continued, "Ne, Miaka, could you do me a little favor? When you call Suzaku, ask him to change me to a woman."

The words didn't make sense at first. As he continued to listen, however, the meaning sank in. His eyes widened and he raked his gaze up and down the Seishi. A man? Nuriko was a man? It explained the incongruities he had noticed the previous night, but it still took him by surprise. Nuriko didn't simply *look* feminine, the Seishi dressed, spoke, and acted the part so flawlessly, Kurama was hard pressed to apply a masculine pronoun, even in his thoughts. Nuriko truly wanted to be female.

He also gathered a few details about Miaka's role. As the Miko, she had the power to summon a being named Suzaku to answer wishes, and she would do so quite soon. Suzaku...a piece to the puzzle clicked in his head. Suzaku must be the deity they worshipped, the bird in the temple that had invaded his dream. If this deity really existed, as the Seishi believed, it might be understandably enraged at the desecration of its shrine.

Oops.

There was only one thing to do. He would return to the temple and apologize for his actions. He hadn't realized it was the dwelling of an actual god, one who would take offense at a stranger's presumption. Perhaps he could convince Suzaku of his sincerity, promising not to behave disrespectfully.

Anything to get the bird out of his head, freeing up his dreams for more pleasant pursuits.

By the time he made the decision, Miaka had left the table. He asked the next available person, who turned out to be Nuriko. "Would it be possible to visit your temple? I'm interested in seeing it under less troubling circumstances."

"That's no problem at all!" she...he...*she* answered brightly. "I can take you there right now."

Tasuki pushed his chair back. "I'll come, too," he announced. He glared at Tamahome. "I can't eat any more anyway."

Hiei narrowed his eyes, as though wondering what trick the fox was up to this time. He went along without a word, however, probably having nothing better to do. He stalked behind the other three, a grim shadow.

Tasuki had difficulty making it up the numerous temple steps with his broken leg, but Nuriko quickly came to his aid, supporting his weight. Priests were in evidence today, in preparation for the Miko's summoning ceremony. The group reached the top of the steps finally and entered through the large double doors.

A wave of anger slammed Kurama to his knees the moment he set foot inside. He let out a weak gasp, hugging himself against the unexpected assault. "Hiei..." he murmured, but his friend was distracted, rubbing his forehead and scowling. He had known Suzaku was upset, but he hadn't anticipated such an extreme reaction.

He gritted his teeth and attempted to squeeze out his apology. "Suzaku...please forgive..."

The bandit pulled a metallic fan from its holster on his back with his good arm. "What's going on?" he demanded. Nuriko's eyes swept the hall, seeking the invisible attacker.

Kurama struggled up and stumbled forward, toward the statue. His human body, unprepared for the psychic battering, collapsed again. Suddenly Hiei was there, a steady shoulder holding him up. "I'm sorry," he tried again. "I didn't--"

The fury eased, but the god's displeasure still pressed down on him. It wasn't satisfied. It knew him too well.

"Hai," he agreed, bowing his head. Pausing to concentrate, he shifted into his youko form. Behind him, he could hear the Seishi's startled exclamations. "I apologize for disturbing your temple, Suzaku," he said solemnly. If he had known it was inhabited...

Gradually--almost grudgingly--the rage dissipated, becoming a vague discontent and then vanishing from his perception. Kurama sighed in relief, releasing his hold on his friend, who hastily backed away.

"Kurama?" Nuriko asked. Tasuki held his fan at the ready, like a weapon.

The youko rose. "Yes," he answered them with an amused smile. "This is my true nature."

Tasuki jabbed the fan in his direction accusingly. "What are you, then? Some kind of demon, like Shoka?"

He had no idea who Shoka might be, but the question was clear enough. He flicked his tail. "You could call us that."

The redhead drew back the fan and brought it down in a sweeping arc. "Lekka Shi--erk!" his incantation cut off as the point of Hiei's blade pricked his throat.

"Now, now, that's not very nice," Kurama chided. "After all, we've just made peace with your god over a misunderstanding; that should count for something. Hiei...put your sword away."

Nuriko rested her chin in her hand, thinking. She regarded the youko in appraisal, then slid her gaze to his smaller companion. Her eyes softened. "It's all right, Tasuki. They're not here to harm us. I believe them."

The bandit rubbed his neck. "The little bastard nicked me."

Nuriko turned away from his grumbling. "Hotohori-sama must hear of this immediately, of course."

"Of course." Kurama bowed and, in a sudden fit of generosity, presented her with a white rose, ignoring the disgusted look his friend shot him for showing off. He truly wanted to return home, and since he couldn't escape this dimension on his own--it appeared to be sealed up tight, from this end--he had to convince the Seishi. Charm had its place.

Nuriko accepted the flower graciously, carefully weaving it into her braid. "Shall we go?" she asked, angling toward the exit.

Kurama had barely a moment's notice. Harsh green light flashed in front of him, spilling a horde of misshapen creatures whose primary features consisted of more teeth, tentacles, and claws than ought to be necessary on any living thing. He recognized instantly that they had originated in the Makai as they boiled toward him, their intent unmistakable.

His battle reflexes took over. "Rose Whip!" he shouted, his weapon lashing out and mutilating the two lead monsters. He dodged around in the direction of the temple doors to lead his attackers out into the open where he could maneouver. "Run!" he warned the Seishi. "It's me they're after."

Behind him, his friend harried the creatures, darting in to slash one, then flickering to another location before the rest could retaliate. He burst out of the temple, startling a pair of priests, and bounded down the steps, luring his assailants away from the bystanders, pausing at intervals to take one out with his whip. The two Seishi surprised him by fighting as well, Nuriko picking the beasts up with her bare hands and throwing them on their slavering comrades to be torn apart, Tasuki incinerating them with waves of flame emitted by his fan.

Nuriko winked at him.

As the leading edge of the battle passed a decorative fountain, the shrill notes of a flute pierced the air, sending the creatures crashing to the ground with howls of agony. The piping increased in frequency and tempo as Chiriko, perching on a railing, sent any remaining upright monsters careening into one another in a pain-filled frenzy.

With one final, lingering tone, the flute fell silent.

Nothing moved.

Kurama surveyed the carnage. Dozens of bodies littered the ground in a trail from the temple. Nuriko had acquired a nasty gash on her arm, but she was already wrapping it with a strip of cloth torn from her hem. The only one who had taken any serious injury during the attack...

Chiriko knelt next to his stricken companion. The youko must accidentally have led the chase right past the two of them, catching them in its deadly swath. Mitsukake had been knocked unconscious, claw marks raking across his back from shoulder to hip, his tunic shredded and stained with blood. The damage wasn't enough to kill him--at least, not in itself--but the Seishi healer needed immediate attention.

Kurama went to him, dropping to the ground by Chiriko and beginning to grow medicinal plants to stop the bleeding and, hopefully, prevent infection. "Hiei, fetch bandages," he ordered in a tone that would brook no argument. No one else could do the job as quickly.

Tasuki hobbled up to join them. "Is he...?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

"He'll live, if I have anything to say about it," Kurama answered. He began peeling away the Seishi's ruined tunic. He barely acknowledged his friend's return, except to take the supplies and set about binding the wounds.

"You know how to do this?" Nuriko inquired. He only nodded in response, not pausing in his work.

Word spread rapidly to the Miko and the rest of the Seishi. They all came as soon as they heard, gathering around the youko. Nuriko quietly filled them in on what had occurred, stressing Kurama's attempt to protect those not involved. Chichiri examined the corpses, frowning even through his mask.

Finally Kurama finished all he could do under the circumstances. He sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on a discarded piece of Mitsukake's tunic. "He'll need a lot of rest," he informed the anxious group, "but he should show considerable improvement in a few days."

"A few days..." Miaka repeated, eyes downcast. "The ceremony will have to wait."

"I'll take him to his room," Nuriko volunteered. The willowy Seishi scooped him into her arms, careful not to disturb the fresh bandages, not even straining under the tall man's weight. Chiriko and Miaka tagged along out of concern, and Tamahome followed his Miko.

Kurama stood, aware of the emperor's steady regard. It was the monk who spoke first, however. "Thank you, Kitsune-san. Your swift action may have saved many lives no da."

"Lives which were only in danger because of me," he qualified. He knew the emperor had to consider that, so best to get it out in the open. "Those creatures are from my dimension. They were sent for me."

Hotohori inclined his head. "Then your arrival here was no accident, either."

That gave the youko pause. The monsters had zeroed in on him with no trouble, which meant that whoever had sent them knew of his predicament...had perhaps caused it. The timing of the invasion--just as he made a tentative peace with Suzaku and the Seishi--was too convenient to ignore. Had the hypothetical opponent planned for him to come into conflict with Konan's inhabitants? He had to admit, without the mitigating force of Shuuichi's personality, events might well have turned out disastrously.

He exchanged glances with his friend, who was standing beside Tasuki. The little youkai was completely unsurprised at the notion that they had been intentionally targeted.

"Walk with me," the emperor suggested with the strength of a command. He turned and began striding away, leaving Chichiri to organize the disposal of the bodies.

"I'll take care of this," Kurama told Hiei, who responded with a minimal shrug. His long paces allowed him to draw even with Hotohori without effort. He could tell from the swordsman's bearing that this conversation would determine their chances of gaining the Seishi's assistance, and quite probably of ever returning home.