This time the sense of urgency had increased. The mysterious Other was desperate to communicate, but the way was blocked by a barrier of fog that garbled everything he sent. Kaika sat up and rubbed his temples. Something had made it through, if he could only recall it from the fading memory. A picture, accompanied by a powerful longing. It had such feeling behind it that he couldn't dismiss it as his imagination.
He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. He could see it still in his mind, a giant red bird--he recognized it as the god Suzaku of Konan--spreading its wings over a young warrior with a glowing symbol on his forehead. Kaika knew the man only by reputation as the guardian of Konan's child prince.
He pushed out of bed and dressed while he pondered the dream. Why did the Other want so strongly for him to see a high-ranking warrior in a foreign country? Would the dreams stop pestering him if he went? How could he expect to be of service to the community in his capacity as a healer if he was constantly worrying?
Sighing, he went to his small kitchen to make his breakfast. He still lived alone, though his mother continued to urge him to find a wife. The young women of the village were pretty enough and nice enough, and many had made it plain that they would be more than willing to take up residence with him, but none of them touched his heart. Not that he didn't *want* to get married--he yearned for someone to share his life, someone to fill the loneliness that haunted him--but he was beginning to believe that if there was one perfect woman for him, she didn't exist in this isolated corner of the country.
His thoughts returned to nibbling at the problem of the Other. Konan...it seemed so far away, and yet the idea of traveling there didn't frighten him. It would mean parting from his parents. It would mean leaving the village in which he had grown up, possibly facing danger in a land that was only now recovering from a devastating war. It would mean speaking to busy, important people about dreams he didn't even understand himself.
He smiled, his mind oddly calmed. Why not?
Botan watched her charge anxiously. "Well?" she asked the moment he came out of his trance. "Did it work?"
He shook his head. "I thought I touched his dream, briefly, but not long enough to deliver the whole message. I'll have to try again later."
Yuusuke yawned. He had been sticking around out of idle curiosity. "You should give up, Botan," he advised. "You've been trying for days, and nothing's happened."
Urameshi Yuusuke's face abruptly experienced an extremely close encounter of the painful kind with the flat of a wooden oar. "You were in a similar situation yourself once, as I recall. You should have more sympathy."
He rubbed at his bruised nose grumpily. "Aw, you're only helping him 'cause you think he's cu--" His words cut off as he had to duck to avoid another smack.
"Don't listen to him, Suboshi," she encouraged the young spirit at her side. "We'll get through to your brother and have this problem fixed before you know it!"
Suboshi nodded, but even he was beginning to lose hope. It must be terrible for him, to feel the connection with his twin and yet not be able to communicate with him. The situation was only exacerbated by the fact that the barrier between them had been put in place by Suboshi himself, when he had drugged his brother into a state of amnesia.
At the time, the dead boy had explained to Botan on one of the long evenings they had spent together trying to make contact, he had been faced with a choice between living in peaceful ignorance or fighting for the woman he loved. He had been caught up in his tumultuous passions and chose to stay with his beloved Miko, drawn along by her plan of vengeance against her best friend.
After his death, after his love reconciled with her friend, he realized his horrible mistake--but it was too late. He had to pay for his actions.
However, his case was further complicated upon reaching the Reikai when it was discovered that he could not be sent on to his next incarnation, because his soul was incomplete. This surprised Botan, who had already successfully escorted souls from his fictional world, souls that had been given substance by the power of the Suzaku No Miko's affection. It had taken considerable delay, sifting through paperwork, to determine the reason: Suboshi and his twin, Amiboshi, were actually one and the same spirit, split into two bodies.
The dead Seishi could not reincarnate while his brother lived.
Because of the unusual circumstances, Koenma had offered him the chance to alter his destiny. If he could find a way to make amends for his deeds before Amiboshi died, that would be taken into account when the time came to decide his fate.
His worst act had been the murder of a defenseless family, the father and younger siblings of the Suzaku Seishi, Tamahome. That score had been mostly settled when their spirits brought about his death by his own weapon. Now what remained was to make a formal apology to Tamahome, displaying his sincere regret and remorse. In order to do so, he had to make contact with his former enemy, which was proving to be more difficult than anticipated.
Botan wished she could be of more help. If only she could establish a gate directly to Konan, she would escort the young Seiryuu Seishi there so that he could speak into Tamahome's dreams. Such a gateway had been opened before, trapping two of Yuusuke's teammates in the land of the phoenix god. Unfortunately, now that the Miko had departed the world inside the magical book Four Gods' Sky and Earth, there was no Ningenkai anchor holding it in place. Their only chance was to strengthen the bond between the twins and use that to locate the target.
That brought them back to the problem of Amiboshi's memory loss. Although he could vaguely feel his brother, he believed wholeheartedly that he was the only son of the peasant family that had "adopted" him, and therefore did not recognize the attempts at communication. As long as the total amnesia persisted, Botan could not get enough of a fix on him to be certain of the destination--and when dealing with interdimensional travel, the slightest error could throw one completely off course.
Botan tucked her oar away, now that it was no longer needed to knock sense into her friend. "Keep an eye on Amiboshi," she instructed her charge, though he was familiar with the drill by now. "Don't hesitate to call me if you sense a change."
He nodded. "Good night, Botan-chan."
That was the other difficulty plaguing their attempts at communication. The Seishi's native dimension was variable in time as well as location. One could never be certain how much passed there compared with the Reikai. Amiboshi could age a week or a month overnight. Death still had her normal duties to perform; she couldn't devote all her energy to this project. That meant the spirit had to be constantly on his guard, so that he could alert her immediately at the first sign of progress, and hope that the opportunity didn't vanish before they could respond.
Kaika could hardly believe his timing. He arrived at Konan's capital to find the whole region preparing for the annual celebration of the prince's birthday. The boy would be five years old in only a few days, and the city had already taken on a festive atmosphere.
The size of the city, teeming with people crowding in from all over the country, boggled his mind. He had never roamed far from his home village and had never seen such sheer numbers--not to mention the exotic goods at the market, the architecture of the buildings, and the foreign costumes. He wandered aimlessly at first, absorbing his surroundings. Eventually he noticed that he raised a few eyebrows as well; Imperial guards, patroling the streets to keep them safe for the duration, stared at him as he walked past. He imagined it must be the novelty of his own traditional clothing from Sairou that drew their attention, and he hoped he didn't distract them from their duty.
He spotted several rough types with visible weapons roaming about singly or in groups of two or three, and though the guards appeared to be ignoring them, he suspected they would sooner be robbing the populace than mingling with it. He tried to steer clear of them, surprised that they would be allowed in such strength so near the palace. Did Konan have a problem with bandits?
He diverted himself from the unsettling thought by pondering a way to approach the prince's guardian. He didn't want them to think him a threat to the boy, but would they let an obvious foreigner close enough to tell his story? Under ordinary circumstances he wouldn't face such a dilemma, but it was said the Seishi guardian never left the prince's side.
He became aware of a commotion behind him. One of the ruffians was striding purposefully through the crowd, calling to someone. Since the matter didn't concern him, he turned his mind back to the task of finding a solution. He didn't consider himself the dangerous sort--surely his peaceful intent would be plain. If he comported himself in a properly respectful manner, they should at least provide him the chance to explain...
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, jarring him out of his musing. He turned, startled, to see the grin of the redheaded bandit he had noted a moment before. "Amiboshi!" the man exclaimed in a hearty voice. "So, you're still alive and kicking. How've ya been?"
He shook his head and took a half-step back. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else," he protested politely, not wanting to anger the stranger. He didn't need any trouble.
For some reason, the man considered his comment to be monumentally humorous. He broke into gruff laughter, nearly losing his breath. "Not *that* again!" he said between chuckles. He pulled Kaika along with the hand still clamped on his shoulder. "Come on, you've gotta meet the rest of the gang--those of us who made it through the war, that is," he amended in a more solemn tone. He cheered up right away, however. "They'll be glad to see you. It's been much too long."
Kaika followed reluctantly. "You don't understand," he began, trying to convince the other of his error. Though he was a man of peace, a musician and healer, he did know how to take care of himself. His first choice would be to solve this with words, but if the bandit persisted, he might have to resort to more forceful means. He didn't want to be dragged into the middle of a whole gang, not when the guards were doing nothing about them. "My name is Kaika, and I'm--"
"That's right," the man said, nodding. "I should have figured you'd go back to using your real name, now that...well, you know." He tapped his chest with his free hand. "You can call me Genrou." He paused to offer a bawdy warning to one of the other bandits who was flirting with a local woman. Kaika winced at the vocabulary.
The two drew near the palace itself, and yet the red-uniformed Imperial guards not only didn't impede their path, they waved them ahead. "As I recall," Genrou went on, "we didn't part under the best of circumstances." He flashed a smile, revealing incredibly sharp canines. "You still carry around that flute of yours?"
Kaika became acutely aware of the weight of the pack on his back. His favorite instrument was the most valuable object he owned, and he was never far from it. But how could this stranger possibly have known about that? "Yes," he admitted hesitantly.
"Learn any new songs?"
More confused than ever, he answered, "Quite a few." It seemed safe enough, since he was always picking up new tunes from passing travelers or composing them himself.
"Great. You'll have to play for us. I'm sure the kid'll love it."
"Kid...?" Kaika struggled to follow the conversation, such as it was. Were there even children joining the bandits? He was so concerned, he nearly missed the instant he crossed into the heart of Konan, the Imperial Palace.
"Yeah," Genrou said as he escorted the disbelieving musician directly toward the building that housed the ruling family. "Hotohori's brat." The amusement in his voice mediated the harsh description, making it an endearment.
He finally drew to a halt before an open doorway. "Wait here," he instructed gleefully. "I want this to be a surprise." He strode inside shouting, "Oi, Tama-chan!"
Kaika leaned against the wooden railing, trying to slow his spinning thoughts. He gazed around at the incredible complex, hardly daring to breathe lest he shatter the illusion. Did the redhead truly know him? It seemed impossible, yet how else could he explain the bizarre encounter?
There was the matter of his missing childhood...
He sighed. Several years ago, his parents had told him, he had been given an accidental overdose of medicine that had erased most of his memory. He didn't remember any events from the first fifteen years of his life, though he did retain his talents and skills. Anything could have happened during that time--but he trusted his parents; wouldn't they have informed him of such a striking past acquaintance?
Genrou's distinctive voice rang from inside the structure as he returned. "You'll never guess who I found drowning in the festival crowd..." He came into view leading a monk, a dark-haired man, and a young child.
Kaika straightened at once, suddenly realizing in whose company he was now standing. "Your Highness!" he stammered, falling to his knees before the prince of Konan.
A gentle, but strong, hand on his shoulder urged him to rise. He tentatively got to his feet, finding himself face-to-face with the object of his quest. Strangely, the warrior appeared just as shocked, though his expression was kind. "Amiboshi," he murmured.
That name again. Why did they insist upon calling him by it? "It's Kaika," he corrected. "I don't know why you're granting me the honor of an audience, but I do have a question to ask, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Trouble?" the esteemed warrior repeated, his tone puzzled. "Ami--Kaika," he caught himself, "we all know how you risked your life for Miaka. You can never be too much trouble. You're one of us."
"One of...?" He scanned the faces of the three men. They all seemed in earnest. Whoever they thought him to be must have impressed them in some way. And who were they? What could a fighter, a monk, and a bandit possibly have in common that would draw them all together, here and now?
"Yeah," Genrou agreed. "One of us, the Suzaku--"
The monk abruptly thrust out his arm, gesturing for silence. "I sense a buildup of alien energy no da," he warned. "It is forming a portal to enter our world no da."
The prince's guardian immediately pulled the boy close to him. "Can you block it, Chichiri?"
The monk shook his head. "I fear it is too strong no da." He made the attempt anyway, focusing on his staff and mumbling an incantation. The bandit drew an object of shining steel from a sheath on his back, and the symbol on the warrior's forehead began to glow bright red as he prepared to ward off an attack.
The air around the group shimmered from the powerful forces battling for control. Kaika could feel it tingling against his skin, tugging at something deep inside him. He wanted to respond, to call out to the source of the disturbance, to gather it to him and shelter it in his arms where it belonged. "It's me," he whispered, eyes widening at the revelation. His whole body resonated with the conflict. He fought to express his instinctive knowledge, but he couldn't squeeze the words past the tension gripping him. "It's..."
And then Chichiri's defense failed.
Botan fell unceremoniously off her oar, landing on her posterior with a loud, "Ooomph!"
That was the least of her problems.
She had been trying to convey Suboshi to his homeworld. The Seishi had managed to achieve a stronger lock on his brother, though not nearly as firm as she would have liked. Nevertheless, it was the best they had been able to manage, and she didn't want to let the chance slip through their fingers. So, she had set off for the slight flicker of a beacon--and found her way blocked. Concentrating, she pushed harder, knowing that the veil between dimensions shouldn't be able to stop Death when she put her mind to it. When *that* proved ineffective, she tried snagging the obstruction and giving it a sharp tug to pry it loose.
It came loose all right--it popped free like a cork from a bottle under pressure...with the bottle's contents spilling after it.
She scrambled to her feet, while the "contents" tried to do the same, untangling the mass of limbs created by a disoriented pile of four people. No--make that five--she hadn't seen the small child at first. She recognized them at once from Suboshi's descriptions and rushed to greet them as soon as they steadied themselves.
"You must be Tamahome," she began, waving in the martial artist's direction. "I've heard so much about you. And Chichiri--I want to thank you for sending Kurama and Hiei back to us. Tasuki, have you been practicing that flame of yours?" She leaned down to bring herself to the boy's level. "Your Highness! You look just like your father; I'm sure he'd be very proud of you." She stood and took a deep breath, turning to face the last of the arrivals.
And froze.
His gaze was fixed on the apparition before him, a spirit that wore his own face, except that it hadn't aged over the past five years. Suboshi, in turn, stared at his brother, clearly unable to believe that they were together again after everything that had happened. Botan opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn't bear to interrupt the twins at such a beautiful moment.
"Aniki..." Suboshi bowed his head. "Please forgive me."
The musician reached out, as though to touch the ghost, but stopped himself. "You're the one, aren't you? The Other, from my dreams." He paused, his eyes bright. "You're me."
The younger of the two chuckled. "Not exactly, Aniki, but close enough to cause me no end of trouble."
Tamahome, however, was not so amused. The symbol on his forehead burned. "*You*!" he shouted at Suboshi. "I'll kill you a thousand times if that's what it takes to get rid of you forever."
Botan interposed herself between the warrior and the twins, hastening to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. "That really won't be necessary," she assured the Suzaku Seishi. "He's already dead--fighting will only cause more paperwork. Besides, you should at least listen to what he has to say, since you're here." It might have been an accident, but she would try to make the most of it.
Not even Tamahome's righteous anger could put a dent in her cheerful optimism. After a few moments spent shaking with the intensity of his emotion, he let his breath out slowly, allowing his rage to drain along with it. He regarded her solemnly. "Who are you? Where are we? And what is *he*"--he spared a second to glare at the spirit--"doing here?"
Explanations she could handle. Explanations were part of her job description. "My name is Botan," she introduced herself. "I ferry souls to the afterlife."
"Hey," Tasuki interrupted, gesturing around him with his tessen. "We're not dead, too, are we?"
She laughed happily, brushing his concern aside. "Oh, no! You're very much alive. You're in the Reikai, where human souls wind up after they leave their bodies. You'll return someday, when it's your time. I didn't mean to bring you here now, it just...happened."
Tamahome frowned. "But we're not real." His words were tinged with deep sadness. "We're characters in a book."
She nodded, still smiling. "Yes, but you have souls. All of the Suzaku Seishi do. They were created by the power of the Suzaku No Miko's love for her friends. I met several Seishi souls when they came through here in the past."
Chichiri looked back and forth between her and the twins behind her. "What about the Seiryuu Seishi no da?" he asked, pointing out the one major discrepancy.
"That's where it gets complicated." Koenma had spent a great deal of time on that very question. She pivoted so that she could include the two brothers as she continued, "Neither one, by himself, would have gained a true soul, but each received half the power needed--Suboshi from his Miko, when she comforted him over the loss of his twin, and Amiboshi from yours, because she considered him a friend, even though he was on the enemy's side."
Though she directed her answer at the monk, she was very much aware of the musician's eyes on her. She told herself sternly that she most certainly did *not* feel her cheeks growing warm. All other thoughts flew out the window, however, the instant he spoke, his gentle voice conveying the sum of his desperation in three simple words.
"Who am I?"
Her heart went out to him. It had completely slipped her mind in the excitement of her experiment-gone-awry that he still didn't remember any of the others. What could she tell him that would make sense in his world? "You are..." A Seishi? Not anymore, not since the god Seiryuu had been sealed away, taking his powers. A brother? But his twin had been the one to steal his memory--how comforting was that? A teammate? He had put fighting and war behind him.
"...A friend," she concluded. "You are a friend to everyone here."
Tasuki looked up at him from sheathing his weapon. "What's with you, anyway? I thought it was just from seeing us again after so long, but you sound really strange. Not like the Amiboshi--or Chiriko--I remember."
"He's...not." Suboshi stepped forward. "And it's my fault."
All attention focused on him. Tamahome's hand clenched into a fist. "Why am I not surprised?" he muttered.
The spirit bowed his head. "I drugged him. He wanted me to take the medicine, to forget my battle against the Suzaku No Miko and live with him in peace. He wanted me to have a normal life, where we could be together, with parents who cared for us, in a village that wouldn't be torn apart by war." He met his brother's puzzled gaze. "But that would have come at the expense of giving up the woman I loved. That was the one thing I could not do for him."
"So you made *him* forget instead," Tamahome finished, putting the final piece in place.
"Is that right?" Tasuki asked his former comrade. "You don't recognize any of us? You don't remember Miaka, or Mitsukake, or Hotohori, or..." He stopped, unable to go on listing their fallen companions.
Kaika shook his head. "I wish I could, but it's all blank. I suppose I'm no longer the same person you used to know. I'm no hero, no legendary Seishi warrior... I'm sorry."
"Just be yourself no da," Chichiri advised.
"Yeah," Tasuki assured him with a grin, adding, "we never got to meet the real you last time. It'll be an interesting change."
Tamahome, however, didn't give up on his original line of questioning. "You still haven't told us why we're here," he prompted Botan.
She clasped her hands, allowing the sleeves of her kimono to cover them. She got the impression he wasn't quite in a forgiving mood yet. She ought to give him time to get used to the repentant Suboshi before the ghost made his formal apology. "You've all just had a big shock," she said, "and it's getting late. Why don't I show you to rooms, so you can rest, and we can settle everything in the morning. Hmm?"
The warrior didn't appear satisfied, but he grudgingly relented. "It *is* nearly bedtime for--" he broke off, looking around. He checked a second time, more thoroughly, the others catching on almost immediately.
"Damn that kid!" the bandit growled, worry written all over his face.
"He should know better than to wander off in a new place." Tamahome turned to Botan. "We have to find the prince. How far could he have gotten while we've been talking?"
She concentrated, trying to recall the last time she had seen the child. She had been so distracted, she hadn't been paying close enough attention. "Reikai is big," she admitted. "He could be anywhere by now. But he should be safe."
"Safe?!" the prince's guardian demanded. "In the land of the dead? How can you be sure?"
"The oni won't hurt him--they're likely too busy to notice him." Of course, that meant they wouldn't have kept track of where he went, either, but there was no need to bring that up. "Koenma-sama would have informed me of any dangers on the loose." At the top of his lungs, no doubt. "His Highness will probably curl up in a nice, dark, out-of-the-way room and fall asleep. It'll be easier to locate him in the morning, when he's hungry and bored of exploring."
"Chichiri," Tasuki cut in, "do you still have your chi linked to him, or whatever that thing is you do? You'd know if he got in trouble, right?"
"Hai," the monk confirmed.
"There, see?" Botan put on her best positive expression. "I'll bet he's never had an adventure like this before, all cooped up in the palace his whole life. Little boys like excitement." At least, judging by the *big* boys she knew. "It'll do him good to get his share now, when he won't be harmed. Plus, I'll spread the word that anyone who stumbles upon him is to bring him back."
Tamahome finally let himself be persuaded. "All right," he sighed. "But if he isn't returned soon, we hunt for him first thing in the morning!"