The Fox and the Phoenix

They made conversation as they went, the emperor describing the political situation of the four countries, Kurama explaining what he did as he selected each species. "This one," he said, dropping to his knees to pull up a small segment of its root, "is what blocks pain so that the body can sleep more easily. And this..." He paused, admiring what appeared to be a simple weed. "I haven't seen this in...I'm not sure how long. I think it's extinct in my world. It's an antidote for a particularly nasty poison."

Hotohori watched, fascinated, as the youko stood and secreted a few seeds in his hair. "How do you do that?"

Kurama grinned. "Practice."

The human shook his head. "I think if I had your talent, I'd have to keep seeds in more secure locations. Tucked inside jewelry, perhaps."

"But that can be taken away, just when you need it most. An enemy rarely thinks to check here," he tapped his silver mane, "unless he really knows me."

"True." He tried concealing a tiny flower above his ear, to see if he could, but it fell out again. He sighed. "I guess I'll leave that trick to the expert." A distant roll of thunder punctuated his declaration.

Kurama eyed the darkening sky as they rounded the base of a steep hill. "Hmm. Those clouds are moving in faster than I anticipated. Perhaps we should..."

Without further warning, the heavens opened up. The youko blinked, raindrops pelting his upturned face. "This isn't possible," he murmured. He could've sworn they still had plenty of time to retreat indoors.

"Kurama," the emperor prompted as the torrent increased. Trickles started fountaining down the hill, pooling around their feet.

The youko swished his tail in bemused contemplation. "What was that he said? 'The impossible is all that happens when...' Oh, no." He turned to Hotohori. "We have to get out of here before--"

Too late.

A chain reaction, initiated at the top of the hill and increasing in magnitude as the sudden downpour sluiced loose soil from the slope, culminated in a cascading river of mud that drenched the two of them completely. The swordsman closed his eyes. Even with mud dripping from every visible surface, he managed to retain an air of dignity. He had not yet opened them when the storm fizzled and ended, as abruptly as it had begun.

"I think," he said slowly, his majestic voice holding not a trace of the irritation he must surely be feeling, "I need a bath. You?"

Kurama only nodded.

They encountered Tamahome and Miaka upon reentering the palace. Both the Miko and her protector were soaked from head to foot. From Tamahome's expression, it had been an extremely cold shower at a particularly hot moment.

"'A quiet walk in the country'?" the Seishi quoted as they passed.

The youko innocently twitched his tail, flicking a bit of the mud onto the boy's tunic. Who had gotten the raw end of this curse, anyway? Sure, thwarted hormones were *annoying*--he sighed--but that was no reason to be *sarcastic*.

Since the emperor didn't indicate any differently, Kurama followed him into his private bath. A cluster of servants appeared instantly to take their soiled clothes and efficiently scrub them down, and then, after ascertaining that everything was just right in their master's world, they left the two alone. Kurama settled into the pleasantly heated water gratefully, content to allow it to drive the chill from his body.

"So..." The youko played absently with the end of his tail, combing through the worst of the tangles with his fingers. Perhaps this was a good time to get a better idea of the other's mind, now that most of his barriers were down. "What would your wish be?"

"Hmm?" The emperor looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"From Suzaku. I know what Tamahome and Miaka want, and Nuriko hasn't made any secret of her desire. What about you?"

"I..." He focused intently on his fingernails. "I want an end to my loneliness."

Kurama splashed water in his direction. "What are you talking about? You have a whole palace full of people who live to serve your every whim...dozens of lovely ladies--and a fair number of young men--who would give anything to be in my position right now..." he winked, "...and a team of loyal comrades who care deeply about you."

Hotohori bowed his head, allowing his hair to conceal his golden brown eyes. "But not one of them is the Suzaku No Miko."

"That's true enough." He ducked under the water briefly to wet his ears, resurfacing with a gasp for breath. He continued, "And I suppose it's not my place to dictate your affairs, but if companionship means that much to you, you'll have to make a hard decision. Either take Miaka by force or learn to love someone else. You don't look to me like the kind of man who would force a woman, especially not one you respect so highly."

"You're right, on both counts. Which leaves me no choice, really."

Kurama didn't envy the emperor. He wondered what he would do if the one to whom he had lost his heart fell in love with another. Would he have the courage to give that person up? He could only hope he would never have to answer that question.

"Hotohori-sama!" called a distinctive feminine voice. "Hotohori-sama, have you seen--?" Nuriko poked her head into the room. "Oh, there he is." She came over to stand behind Kurama.

The emperor began sliding farther under the water to hide himself, shocked at her audacity, then suddenly halted in confusion, obviously realizing that she was still--technically--male. The youko smothered a chuckle at his dilemma.

Nuriko put her hands on her hips. "I expect you're enjoying your bath, after leaving muddy paw prints all over the palace."

Kurama leaned toward her. "What paw prints?"

"I mean the kitsune tracks running up and down the walkway. Don't tell me that wasn't you."

Hotohori overcame his quandary and hastened to his guest's defense. "It wasn't. He's been with me all morning, and he hasn't changed form."

"He has, has he?" she asked suspiciously, then abruptly shifted gears. "Should I be jealous?" She developed a crafty gleam in her eyes. "Maybe I ought to join you..."

"No! I mean," the emperor said, recovering his composure, "we're nearly done."

No one got the upper hand on a fox when it came to teasing. He couldn't resist calling her bluff. "Right," he agreed, revealing no hint of his intention. "All done."

He stood up.

She stared for a moment in disbelief, watching the water drip down his skin. Then she blushed bright red and averted her gaze. "Kitsune-san!" she protested. Behind him, Hotohori suffered a fit of coughing, struggling not to laugh.

Kurama picked up one of the towels the servants had left behind and wrapped it around himself, then took another and started drying his hair. "Just wanted you to be sure I had no more mud on me to leave prints," he explained reasonably.

"No mud," she repeated, still not looking at him.

He tugged gently on the end of her braid. "Ne, Nuriko-sama," he said in a stage whisper, handing her a fresh towel, "do you think the emperor needs help drying off?"

"Ooooh!" she sighed, clutching the towel tightly to her chest and turning to gaze adoringly at Hotohori, who no longer found the situation quite so funny.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Kurama waved goodbye. "See you when you're dry, Majesty..."

Life would be unbearable if one didn't make a game of it.

Finally clean to his satisfaction, he scrambled out of the water and shook himself off. He was still damp, but he would dry quickly enough in the afternoon breeze. Smiling in anticipation of new adventures, he padded outside.

He perked up at the sound of approaching voices: Hotohori and Kurama. His smile widened. Playing with the youko was ever so exciting, almost as much as teasing Miaka. He had won the last round of the chase; would the other catch him this time?

Waiting just long enough for the two to snatch a glimpse of him, he turned and dashed around the corner. So involved was he in calculating Kurama's next move, he wasn't aware that someone had stepped in front of him until he found himself in a head-on collision, knocking a fellow Seishi to the floor.

He wound up draped across the chest of a very startled--and now quite damp--Tamahome. He tried to scramble free, but a hand descended to snare him by the scruff of the neck in an unbreakable grip. He was hauled, yelping, from his perch and deposited in a heap. The owner of the hand had probably expected to be able to pick him up, but he still weighed as much as a grown man, even though he wore the appearance of a small furry quadruped.

"So *this* is the creature that's been giving me a bad name," Kurama said, glaring down at him, but the golden eyes twinkled.

Chichiri managed to look affronted. Bad name? Enhancing his reputation, more like!

Tamahome groaned and sat up, making a futile attempt to brush the wet spot from the front of his tunic. "I just got dry again," he muttered accusingly. Chichiri jumped up and licked the tip of the boy's nose in apology, though he suspected the gesture wouldn't be fully appreciated.

"Chichiri..." the emperor admonished gently.

Kurama raised his eyebrows. "Chichiri? It was *you* following me in the market, wasn't it?" He shook his head wryly. "I must be getting soft. I didn't even recognize that unique shade of blue."

The fox preened. He was rather proud of his fur.

"...Although I don't know whether I should be flattered or offended," the youko continued, ignoring Tamahome, who was trying desperately to wipe all traces of the "kiss" from his face.

"First Nuriko, now Chichiri?" the boy moaned, listing the Seishi who had kissed him. He frowned speculatively at Hotohori, a bit of his good humor returning. "If *you* try anything, I can't be held responsible for the consequences," he warned, smirking.

The emperor heaved an aggrieved sigh and gave his rival a hand up. "Since we're all here," he suggested, "perhaps we should discuss business. ...Gentlemen?" he prodded the kitsune pair, who were comparing tails.

The monk popped back into his true form. "Hai, Hotohori-sama!"

The three trailed the emperor to his conference room. He seated himself at his table and looked at Kurama expectantly. "What is Mitsukake's status?"

"He's healing nicely. I reduced the dosage of his medicine this morning. If all goes well, he should awaken sometime in the next few hours with enough strength to heal himself."

"That's wonderful news. Chichiri, what have you learned about opening a channel for them?"

The monk had removed his mask, holding it in one hand, his staff in the other. He didn't need it when dealing with serious matters. "I studied Taiitsukun's magic," he reported. "As long as there is a strong connection between our guests and their world, we should be able to generate the power to send them, as you did for Miaka."

"How strong a connection?" the youko asked, a touch of anxiety in his tone.

"You must desire with all your heart to return home. If a part of you wishes to remain, the spell will be incomplete." He wondered why his words worried the silver-haired demon.

"Tamahome," the emperor turned to the other Seishi, "is Miaka prepared to summon Suzaku? We will want to hold the ceremony as soon as we have taken care of our visitors."

The Miko's protector nodded. "Ready and waiting. She is concerned about Mitsukake, but as Kurama-san said, he is recovering, and Chiriko is helping to keep her occupied with his music." He tactfully did not mention his own attempts.

Hotohori folded his hands on the table, satisfied. "Very good. I want all the Seishi to be informed the moment Mitsukake awakens, so that we can gather for the spell."

Kurama bowed his head, accepting responsibility for that task.

"Chichiri, see that arrangements for both the circle and the ceremony are made."

The monk replaced his mask. "Hai."

As he left the room to carry out his assignment, he heard the youko call, "And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

He couldn't help smiling. Yes, life was a game...but the most important part always turned out to be the other players.

A shadow fell across the bedspread. Kurama looked up from his vigil to see his friend standing in the doorway. It was the first time Hiei had approached him all day. He didn't know what the little youkai had been doing to occupy his time, but he could make an educated guess. He lowered his gaze. "The Seishi have a way to send us home," he offered.

Hiei said nothing, merely stepped inside and peered at the figure on the bed.

Mitsukake chose that moment to moan softly. His eyes blinked open as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. "Wh--who?" he asked hoarsely.

"Here." Kurama held a cup of water to his lips. "Drink this. It will steady you so that you can concentrate on healing yourself."

The suggestion had merit, even if the Seishi didn't recognize the youko, and he complied. Once his mind had cleared enough, he focused his power on his wound. The glow of energy channeled from Suzaku worked its magic, restoring him to full strength. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "Who are you?" he repeated, regarding the unfamiliar demon.

"Hiei, tell the other Seishi that he's recovered," Kurama requested, knowing that his friend could take care of informing all six in rapid succession. The black-clad youkai scowled but flickered off to do as he was bid.

The youko smiled at his former patient. "Believe it or not, I'm Kurama. Your injury has kept you out of things for nearly three days; it's understandable that you should be a bit confused."

"Three days?" The healer started. "The ceremony!"

"--Was postponed. But don't worry, everyone's quite anxious for you to take your place among them so that Miaka's wishes can be granted."

Mitsukake leaned back against the headboard. "Tasuki! I never got the chance..."

"Don't worry about the bandit. He's still limping, but his injuries haven't slowed him down too much." Anyone who could keep up with Hiei the way the flame-haired Seishi had been doing wasn't in dire need of attention, no matter how much he complained.

The patter of running footsteps preceded the Suzaku No Miko as she came careening into the room at full tilt, throwing her arms around Mitsukake's neck. Kurama bowed out, knowing he would be an extra in the happy reunions soon to follow as his friend spread the word.

He stood at the railing outside the healer's room, allowing the rain-scented wind to tease his hair. He nodded to the Seishi as, one by one, they passed by him. Three, four...he counted them absently.

"Kitsune-san!" He turned at Nuriko's cheerful hail, which was all that saved him from the two tiny darts that struck the post by his shoulder. Instantly on his guard, he crouched to make himself a smaller target and motioned for the feminine Seishi to do the same, while scanning for the source of the projectiles.

"Chichiri, an attack!" Nuriko shouted in warning. The monk swiftly raised a kekkai, protecting Miaka and the five Seishi inside the room.

Kurama finally spotted their assailant. A woman this time, she wore a brilliant green gown, slit up the sides to allow her freedom of movement. The garment hugged her body tightly, leaving none of her ample curves to the imagination--a tactic to distract her opponents, no doubt. Confident in her abilities, she didn't even bother to hide.

"Give up, Youko!" she called to him. "Even a scratch from one of these darts will kill you." Raising a hand glowing with her youki, she sent another volley arrowing toward him.

He rolled aside a moment before they peppered the walkway where he had been. "Nuriko, get inside, now!" he ordered, forming his throwing blades for a return attack.

"But--"

"Do it. Your strength can't help you here. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Hai." She joined the rest of her comrades. They could do nothing; the only ones who had long-range talents were Chichiri, who was already occupied, and Tasuki, whose wounds prevented him from maneouvering quickly enough to avoid the darts. The seventh Seishi, whose flute could easily have stopped the assassin while he remained safely behind the barrier, was only now approaching with Hiei.

Kurama flung his blades at his attacker, but her magic plucked them out of the air and shattered them. The next events happened so fast that the youko didn't have time to think.

Apprehending the danger, Chiriko tried to use his musical weapon. The assassin sent a handful of deadly projectiles toward the boy at the sound of the first notes. Hiei, reacting with his typical speed, grabbed the Seishi and dragged him out of the way. Chiriko stumbled, startled by the interruption, and Hiei paused to help him--directly in the path of the next attack.

Kurama's body moved before his mind completely registered the situation. He leapt in front of his friend, gasping in shock as three of the poisoned darts pricked his back. He fell to his knees, the little youkai's wide, burning eyes the last thing he saw before his vision began to gray.

He recognized the tingling spreading from the points of impact, knew it would be followed by numbness, chills, and then death, if its progression were not halted...and the only antidote had vanished long ago.

It was becoming difficult to concentrate. He felt hands on him, supporting his weight. Small hands. Hiei? No, he sensed his friend's ki raging behind him, accompanied by the final scream of his enemy. Chiriko, then, not yet finished growing into his adult stature.

Growing...why did that word soothe him? More arms joined Chiriko's, stronger ones to hold him as he collapsed from the dizziness. That's right--he almost laughed at the thought--his talent was growing things. Plants. Wonderful plants. He had been looking for plants that very morning. Why did it seem so hard to remember?

He could faintly hear someone calling his name, but he didn't have the coordination to formulate a response. See, Majesty? his mind whispered. This one...and this one...and...

Slowly, manipulating his hand as though it were a complex mechanical device he could no longer fully understand, he curled his fingers around a tiny seed he had gathered. "This one," he concluded, but whether or not he actually uttered the words he couldn't be certain. He poured the last of his energy into it, and then the whole universe dissolved into darkness.