The Fox and the Phoenix

He had taken an interest in the boy when he witnessed the deadly power of the flute, a weapon that most enemies would be certain to underestimate. He had continued to observe and discovered the boy had another secret, a hidden connection to another who shared his soul.

The youkai dropped from his rooftop perch--*intentionally* this time--behind the boy. Few aspects of humanity captured his interest, but he felt compelled to investigate this matter. "Brother or sister?" he asked quietly.

Chiriko jumped and hastily tucked his arm from view. "What?"

"Your twin. Is it a brother or a sister?"

Strangely, the question scared the Seishi more than the unexpected arrival. "What--what are you talking about?" he hedged.

Hiei leaned back against the wall of the building. Ordinarily he would be getting upset and impatient by this point, but his curiosity was in control at present. "The ties between you are strong. Must be a brother. Identical?"

"I don't have..." Chiriko began, then the fight drained from him and he nodded slowly. "Yes. We were separated when our village was attacked. That's when I joined Miaka. I haven't seen him since."

"What was it like, when you were together?"

The boy relaxed, allowing his hidden arm to fall to his side. "All we had was each other. He was the only thing in the world that mattered to me."

"Why don't you find him, then?" the youkai demanded fiercely. "You must feel that he's still alive out there. If he means so much to you, why don't you search for him?"

The Seishi winced, but he held his ground. "I must serve my Miko. That comes above all else."

The explanation did not ease Hiei's mind. He pinned the boy with his gaze. "What if he is seeking you? What would you do if he showed up in your life again?"

Chiriko hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I would rejoice to be with him, but I don't believe it likely. I am the elder; he takes his lead from me. He knows I am alive and safe--as much as anyone can be in this war-torn world--as I know of him. That comforts us, even when loneliness might otherwise be overpowering."

The youkai lowered his eyes. "Just knowing he's alive," he repeated. He hadn't intended to let so much of his own emotions show, but it was already too late. The Seishi had picked up on it.

"That's why," he murmured. "You, too?"

Hiei was tempted to retreat. He didn't need to reveal his whole life story to this human. Didn't owe him anything. Oddly, however, Chiriko's understanding smile invited him to share, at least a little. "A sister," he admitted grudgingly.

"And you miss her, don't you? How long have you been apart?"

"I found her!" he protested vehemently. "The price... But I would have given anything." He drew himself up straight. "I found her, yet I can never tell her who I am." He turned to leave. He had had enough of this.

"Hiei-san!" the boy called after him. "Trust me--she knows."

And then he was alone.

Kurama had given Nuriko permission to play with his hair, on the condition that she limit herself to two ribbons. She had done an outstanding job, using a combination of subtle braids and twists that, though elegant, still retained a definite masculinity.

He had spent a great deal of the morning with her, describing the world of the Makai and listening to her talk about Konan. She even began telling him about the various personalities of the Seishi so that he could get to know them better. However, when she arrived at Hotohori she started swooning like a schoolgirl over her first crush and couldn't bring herself to continue on with another.

He decided to prompt her discreetly. As important as it was to learn about the country's emperor, he didn't think he was getting the most unbiased account. "What about *him*?" he interrupted, indicating the spot where Hiei was giving the redheaded bandit flaming lessons.

"Tasuki?" She paused to collect her thoughts. "We don't know an awful lot about him. He's rude and foul-mouthed, but also strong, tenacious, and loyal. He likes to have a good time--particularly if there's drinking involved--and he enjoys a good fight."

"War, wine, and women, hmm?"

"Oh, not women!" She chuckled. "He claims he doesn't like them. Gets along just fine with me, though."

Kurama looked over at the two again. Hiei had his hands on the Seishi's good arm, guiding it into the proper arc for the effect he wished to teach. He didn't seem to have noticed that his jacket had started to slip down, revealing a shoulder left bare by the muscle shirt he wore underneath.

"Excuse me a moment," the youko begged Nuriko. He strode over to the sparring partners and, trying not to be too much of a nuisance, gently pulled his friend's jacket back in place.

Hiei tensed, then turned to glare at him. "What was *that* for?"

"Nothing, nothing," Kurama assured him. He didn't want to explain in front of Tasuki; the Seishi might find it embarrassing. The little youkai put his hands in his pockets and waited to hear the reason behind the action. "I just...thought I'd keep you from catching a chill."

He knew it was a lame excuse the moment the words left his mouth, but how could he say--in a way that would be even remotely tactful--that he wanted to prevent his friend from tempting Tasuki? He could tell that Nuriko, behind him, was nearly strangling herself in an effort not to double over with laughter.

Hiei gave him a Look that clearly said, "I have never in my life met anyone as stupid as this fox!" Then, slowly, defiantly, he shrugged. The jacket slid completely off both shoulders, catching at his bent elbows.

The two friends stood staring at each other for a long moment. The bandit could only blink at the scene, perplexed, not realizing he was the cause of the conflict. Finally, Kurama had to admit defeat. He wasn't prepared to declare his true motivation, and so he was condemned to lose this battle. He turned away and went to rejoin Nuriko, who hastily wiped tears of mirth from her face.

Be careful, Hiei, he thought as she guided him along on their walk. I don't want to lose you to this world.

Not wishing to start rumors of a demon roaming the countryside, he reverted to his human form. He found the town's bustling streets and close buildings a diverting change from the sparsely populated palace grounds, though he wouldn't want to be forced to live there. He took his time soaking up the foreign surroundings, allowing himself to pretend that he was merely on vacation, a tourist in a quaint marketplace.

That illusion was dispelled as he felt eyes on him. Of course, he knew he was being watched. He had probably already been targeted by half the slave traders in the area--and the other half hadn't spotted him yet. This feeling was different...

He checked behind him. Was that a flicker of motion ducking for cover under the fish vendor's stand? He couldn't be sure. He put all his senses on the alert. After the failure of the first attack, he wouldn't be surprised if his enemy tried again.

He made another attempt to catch a glimpse of his pursuer. This time he managed to see a familiar tail flicker around the corner of a building. A kitsune tail. A *blue* kitsune tail.

He shook his head. There's no such thing as a blue kitsune. It was most likely a trick of the shadows. Plenty of the townsfolk let their dogs run loose. That would easily explain it.

Then why did it seem that someone was playing an elaborate joke at his expense?

"Ow!" He slapped at the mosquito biting his arm, but missed. "I hope you like youko blood," he murmured with a tinge of sarcasm as it buzzed away.

He turned down a lane of prepared food stands, the mix of aromas starting his mouth watering. It was getting near suppertime, his stomach reminded him. He should start back toward the palace before he missed the evening meal.

There it was again... He determined to trap whoever was spying on him in the act. He feigned preoccupation with one of the stands, hoping to surprise his opponent farther out in the open.

If he hadn't been so attuned to his surroundings in his effort to locate his shadow, he might not have detected the attack in time. An abrupt change in the nearby crowd warned him, however, and he instinctively ducked and rolled as a shuriken buried itself in the wood of the vendor's stand at his head height.

"Rose Whip!" All around him the town's citizens scattered in fear, obscuring his vision. He dodged again, not wanting to be a stationary target. Finally the street cleared enough for him to make out his assailant. Only one, but Kurama knew a trained assassin could be even more dangerous than a horde of ravening monsters.

This one looked the part. Dressed in a dark, shimmering purple robe that could hide any number of weapons, he was not much taller than Kurama in his present form. He had white hair curling down around his pointed ears, slitted silver eyes, and a faint green tinge to his skin. His hand blurred, and Kurama barely leapt aside in time to avoid another throwing star.

He lashed out with his whip--and the assassin vanished. He didn't simply move quickly, as Hiei did, he blinked out of existence. Kurama scanned the area and only just managed to catch him reappearing out of the corner of his eye. He tried using his whip once more, but his opponent teleported before the wicked thorns reached him.

He felt a surge of ki and braced himself for a renewed attack, then recognized the flavor of it as belonging to a Seishi. The monk, Chichiri, darted out from behind a building, his cloak swirling. "Quickly, Kitsune-san!" he called, laying the cloak flat on the ground and standing on it, holding his staff in a defensive position. He had taken off his mask, revealing a harsh scar across his left eye.

Kurama spun at a noise behind him. The assassin had thrown a brace of knives at him, but they had been repelled before reaching him, presumably from a barrier raised by the Seishi. He wasted no time in joining the monk, and they both melted into the cloak, transported instantaneously to the palace grounds.

"Thanks," he said as he recognized his surroundings. The only others presently in view were Tamahome and Miaka talking together several yards away. He didn't know if he would have been able to handle the assassin on his own.

Chichiri still looked worried. "We haven't defeated him yet no da," he cautioned.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the attacker teleported right in front of them and threw a small capsule that exploded upon impact with the ground. Kurama avoided the worst of the blast, but it made him stumble, stone shrapnel stinging his skin. The Seishi had been able to protect himself with his magic. Off to the side, Tamahome thrust the Suzaku No Miko behind him, a symbol on his forehead glowing bright red.

"How could he have found us so easily?" Kurama wondered aloud, trying a third time--in vain--to hit the assassin with his whip.

The monk grabbed Kurama's arm and shoved his sleeve up to uncover a small welt. "He follows you with this no da," he explained briefly before breaking off to block the next attack, a double handful of darts.

The mosquito bite? Kurama could have kicked himself for being so oblivious, if he weren't so busy fighting for his life. Tossing the whip aside, he tried a different tactic. The next time the purple robe appeared, he used its own strategy against it, flinging sharp leaf blades in its direction. It blinked away, but it didn't have a chance to make an offensive move of its own.

Kurama saw Chichiri raise his hand in front of his mouth as a focus while beginning to mumble a spell. He nodded at Tamahome, conveying his intention with a simple gesture. The Seishi guardian agreed without words.

At the assassin's return, Tamahome distracted him from the other two while Miaka ran for shelter, knowing she had no place in this battle. The monk finished the last of his spell and directed it as their opponent's back was turned, snaring him in place.

With a grim smile of satisfaction, Kurama held a blade to his throat. "Who sent you?" he demanded coldly.

The assassin merely closed his silver eyes, sighed, and went completely limp. Chichiri shook his head sadly, confirming what Kurama suspected, and dispersed his spell, allowing the lifeless body to fall to the ground. Tamahome's symbol faded with the end of the crisis.

Kurama regarded their vanquished assailant. That had been much too close for his liking. He would have to be far more careful in the future.

He straddled the railing outside his room, watching Hotohori show off his swordsmanship for the red-haired visitor. He didn't mind that one so much--at least the fox had manners. The little obnoxious one had vanished somewhere several hours ago with Tasuki, which suited him just fine. Those fanged menaces deserved each other.

When Miaka joined him, he couldn't very well ignore her. She smiled up at him with her typical good cheer, setting his heart racing. After the day's excitement--coming just as he was about to bring up the subject of their future--she could still maintain her high spirits.

"Do you know why anyone would want to kill Kurama-san?" she asked, her eyes on the innocent-seeming demon.

He shook his head. It mystified him. One would think Hiei far more likely to provoke homicide.

"You were very brave," she went on, brushing up against his near leg, sending a delightful shiver though him, "protecting me like that and going to his aid."

"How could I do otherwise? You were in danger. If anything happened to you..."

He hadn't meant for the mood to turn serious. His three failed attempts had made him wary. Yet when she folded her hands on his knee, the thought that he might lose her prematurely drove all others from his mind. How could he suppress his feelings?

He covered her hands with one of his. "If anything happened to you before I--"

Something impacted against the railing, cutting him off...almost in more ways than one. He froze, then swallowed at the realization of what a narrow miss it had been.

Embedded in the wood of the railing, standing upright and still vibrating from the impact, was Hotohori's sword. Had it landed any closer, the prospect of starting a family would have become irrelevant.

The emperor and Kurama hurried over. "What's the big idea?!" Tamahome burst out, too upset to bother with formality. Holding the blade to his throat or stabbing him through the gut was one thing, but this...

Hotohori could only stare. "I didn't..." He retrieved his weapon, yanking it out of the railing, and examined it in surprise. "My most sincere apologies, Tamahome. It slipped from my hand." He frowned, his voice puzzled. "That has *never* happened to me before."

It *was* strange, the emperor's Seishi ability going so awry--if his assertion was to be believed--but Tamahome's frustration had been building for a long time. "Right," he grumbled, "*you* never drop your sword, *Hiei* never falls from trees...I'm sure *Kurama* would never dream of entering a lady's room without permission, and *Chichiri* would never allow an assassin to follow him into the palace. It seems to me the impossible is all that happens around here anymore, at least when--" He broke off, glancing at Miaka.

"I can offer no explanation," Hotohori said solemnly, "only my assurance that it was not intentional."

"Yeah, yeah," the Miko's protector sighed, giving up. There wasn't a single thing he could do but accept it.

The emperor nodded an acknowledgement and sheathed his blade. "It is time I returned," he announced, excusing himself.

Tamahome swung his leg over the railing and hopped down. Before he could leave, however, Kurama leaned toward him. "Perhaps a quiet walk in the country?" he suggested softly. "Just the two of you, no interruptions."

The Seishi considered. Alone with Miaka, no one around but the two of them and the forces of nature...that might be exactly what they needed. His spirits rose. "Thanks," he said gratefully. His situation might not be so hopeless after all.

He rested his chin on his hand and considered his reflection in the mirror. The two would have to come back sometime. The least he could do was wish his friend pleasant dreams, right? Decision made, he changed into his fox form--the better to escape detection; he didn't want to be intercepted by one of the Seishi--and padded out into the night.

Cool breezes ruffled his fur as he made his way to the tree Hiei had taken to sleeping in. He could tell the youkai had not yet returned, but he was content to wait as long as necessary. He curled up beneath the whispering leaves and tucked his nose under a tail. He hadn't expected to fall asleep, but with the soft grass and the peaceful chirping of crickets, he soon relaxed enough to drift off.

He was awakened suddenly, his ears twitching to rid himself of the pestering tickle that disturbed his slumber. He opened his eyes to see Hiei kneeling beside him, drawing his hand back. Kurama could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a smile on his friend's face, but it might have been a trick of the moonlight.

"What are you doing out here, you stupid fox?" he asked. Though the words were gruff, the tone was gentle. "You should go back inside where you belong." He paused, turning to look at the dark hulks that were the buildings of the Imperial Palace. "You don't want Nuriko to have to brush the grass and tangles out of your hair in the morning, do you?"

Kurama's tongue lolled in an answering grin. Could it be that his friend was just a touch worried about all the attention the youko received from the "lady" of the Seishi? He would have to put a stop to that concern at once.

He uncurled gracefully and stepped forward, not stopping until his front paws were braced on Hiei's lap. He leaned against the startled youkai's chest for a long moment, gazing up into those wide, starlit eyes. Then he yipped softly, stretched up to lick the side of Hiei's face, and quickly bounded away, headed toward his room.

At least for tonight he would have the scent and taste of his friend to keep him company while he slept in this strange world so far from home.