Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ The Universe of the Four Gods ❯ A perilous meeting ( Chapter 27 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Zoku stares out at the garden around her, eyes blank and staring, posture rigid and uneasy. Her mind reels with thought, though mainly she is confused. And a bit annoyed.

‘Why should I have feelings for him?’ Zoku thinks, and even her mind speech sounds monotone. A hint of aggravation, however, courses through her and irritably she shifts her weight to her other foot. The soldiers around her seem to stiffen, expecting something to leap out of the nearby trees, but when nothing happens they settle down. Zoku ignores them.

‘Is that what this is? This feeling? This ache in my chest? Is it because I care about him?’’ Zoku wonders absently, gazing at a nearby flower without really seeing it. Sensing her uncertainty, Pedru clicks his beak together and flares his one good wing, the end of it brushing against Zoku’s neck. A chill runs through her, but she absently pushes the sensation away, focusing solely on the flower.

‘Well if that’s what this is, then I don’t want it. Shit, but It hurts. Why should I care if Nakago finds Tasuke? I don’t care. I don’t! I want revenge.’ As much as she says it, though, Zoku can’t seem to summon the strength to hate the Suzaku Seven. She can’t seem to summon the strength to hate anything, let alone love anything. She felt like an empty vassal, devoid of emotion, but plagued by thought.

Absently smoothing her robes over her hips, Zoku’s head snaps up as something rustles off to the right of her, at the corner of her vision. She feels Pedru stiffen on her shoulder, hissing a threat at whatever lingers there. The soldiers snap to attention, shifting around, murmuring to themselves.

Zoku’s gaze travels slowly around, before fixing on a patch of shadow that leaks out from a bush. And there, glinting in the early morning light, are a pair of deep crimson eyes. The eyes are filled with pain and anger.

Zoku stares back placidly, unsure of whether she’s hurt by that look or relieved by it. She can’t really discern emotion through the anguish that consumes her. Anguish for her parents deaths, no doubt, which the Suzaku warrior’s caused. Which he caused. She needed to sound the alarm. She should sound the alarm.

But, try as she might, she couldn’t. She simply stands there, unaware of the soldiers shifting around her, unaware of even Pedru, who lets lose a clipped whistle at the sight of Tasuke’s glinting optics. He stares fixedly at Zoku, and she can’t seem to draw her eyes away from his.

“Lady Zoku,” a gruff voice calls, and instantly the eyes vanish. They simply vanish, enveloped by shadow. Zoku physically feels Tasuke leave, and releases a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. As if released from a spell, Zoku turns towards the voice, and stares into the sapphire pools of Nakago. His face, as always, is devoid of emotion, though a gentle look dominates his features. “My lady Zoku, is everything alright? You appear absent,” he says gently in a grating tone.

After a moment, Zoku feels the gazes of the soldiers on her, and returns their looks stare for stare. At her blank, eerie gaze, they drop their eyes, until they pretend to ignore the very presence of Zoku and the general. Pedru, flicking his tail feather in disdain, eyes Nakago sharply with the intent of protecting Zoku. From what, the girl hadn’t a clue, she just knew the stance the hawk took was protective.

“Everything,” Zoku replies after a moment, “is fine.” Her voice is cool, monotone, hollow to her own ears. Wasn’t there a time when her voice cracked with emotion? Wasn’t there a time when she’d been so full of life her laugh had been silvery and sweet? What did a laugh even sound like? The word sounds foreign to her, this laughter.

Now, however, was no time to wallow in self pity. Nakago was supposed to come to her once they’d captured Miaka. Had they done it? Would this wretched pain finally end? A thought strikes her, and she frowns, unaware of Nakago’s words as he whispers urgently to her. What next? What after she gets revenge on the Suzaku seven? She can’t really think of what life would be like. Would the misery really end?

“Lady Zoku,” Nakago’s harsh tone snaps her back to reality, and blonde she tilts up her chin to stare into his eyes. He bows the upper half of his body with a sharp gesture of his arm, face cast down towards the ground. “My lady, I asked if you wanted to see the prisoners.” Curtly, Zoku nods, features blank.

Nodding in reply, Nakago rights himself and directs a gesture at the soldiers, a mere flick of his wrist. That gesture, however, sets them into motion, and the regime parts to reveal a band of soldiers heavily guarding three figures. One stands firm and tall, roped as she is, glaring stubbornly at the soldiers holding her. The other, his blue hair shielding his eyes from view, looks physically pained, and a quick inspection of him alerts Zoku to the blood leaking freely from an arrow wound in his side. Their last companion has to be bodily carried by two soldiers, and a trickle of blood flows down his temple and his neck.

She suspects a wound to the back of the head had knocked Nuriko unconscious and split the skin as well.

Abruptly, the escort stops before Nakago with a bow, keeping a wary eye on the prisoners. Tamahome grunts and struggles to lifts his head, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. Nuriko doesn’t react, unconscious as he is, but Miaka raises her gaze belligerently towards Nakago.

Her eyes visibly widen as they travel across Zoku. The girl doesn’t seem to react; she looks rigid yet deflated, like a puppet that has been clipped from its strings and sags forward. Nakago, however, doesn’t seem so reserved. His lips peel back to bare his pearly whites in a mocking smile.

“Greetings, Priestess of Suzaku,” Nakago says, resting his hand idly on his sword hilt. Miaka never takes her gaze off Zoku, though the girl is sure she notes Nakago’s presence.

“Zoku,” Miaka calls out desperately, “why are you doing this? We’re your friends.” An urgent tone streaks her voice, but it doesn’t affect Zoku in the least. She merely stands there, stiff as a statue and just as cold.

“True friends would not murder an innocent family,” Zoku replies levelly, and her voice sounds strangely vehement. Strange, since she didn’t feel at all angry. It was as if this was routine, and she was just doing what she’d been told to do. Emotion was out of the question. Emotion was a foreign word. Just like laughter.

“What?” Miaka mutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Zoku snaps harshly, back stiffening. “It’s one thing to do it, but to lie is another thing all together. Don’t go and pour salt on the wound.” There is a hidden threat in the suggestion, one that causes Miaka to shudder.

Abruptly Miaka peers curiously into Zoku’s eyes, and she stares back. Miaka squints as if seeing something for the first time, head craned gently forward.

“Zoku, what’s wrong with your eyes?” she whispers, and Zoku’s gaze wavers.

Tasuke’s voice comes to mind. Rocking forward on the balls of his feet, Tasuke touches a fingertip gently to the delicate skin beneath Zoku’s eyes. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” The tender flesh beneath her eyes flares with life as if Tasuke’s fingertip brushes against it at that moment. A shudder rolls down her spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nakago arch a brow as if surprised.

“Nothing,” Zoku retorts, glancing away from the priestess.

“Zoku,” Miaka tries again pleadingly. “You’ve got to believe me, I don’t know what you’re talking about! What family? We’ve never killed anyone! Zoku? Please.” Her wails smash against the invisible barrier Zoku casts up without causing a dent, though Zoku doesn’t return her gaze to Miaka. She continues to peer intently at the trunk of a nearby tree, gaze distant and disdainful.

“Lies…all lies! Nakago,” Zoku says with a silent command. Nakago nods towards the soldiers, and one of the warriors steps forward, raising a gauntleted fist as if to strike her. She winces against the oncoming attack, shying away from it, but before the man even begins to bring his fist down Tamahome steps forward, glaring at him.

“Don’t even think about touching Miaka!” he snaps, a burning red symbol appearing on his forehead. The guard’s hand falters in mid air, and he casts Nakago an uncertain glance.

Without the conscious thought of doing so, Zoku lashes out with her mind, triggering all the feelings of doubt in Tamahome. Blanching in surprise as if the attack had been a physical assault, Tamahome stumbles to the side with a blink. His jaws work, but no words seem to come forth.

Abruptly a wave of thoughts surges through Zoku, and she actually lurches to the side as if a heavy stone weighs her down.

“Does Miaka love me?” Tamahome’s voice echoes in her mind. Zoku winces at the intensity of it. “I can’t believe she looked at Nuriko that way. Wait, what am I talking about? Nuriko is gay! Why am I jealous?” Zoku gasps and struggles to stay on her feet, her head throbbing painfully. Tamahome pants hoarsely, legs trembling as if he, too, is having a hard time staying upright.

Nakago takes a step forward with an arched brow. “Lady Zoku?” he says in a tone that doesn’t sound at all worried. The words slide off of Zoku’s invisible barrier.

“Tasuke is a fool. How could he fall for the enemy? And who does he think he is, trying to take Miaka from me? I won’t let it happen.”

“Get out of my head,” Tamahome bellows painfully, wincing. Miaka staggers forward, pulling at the ropes that bind her, trying to reach Tamahome. Furtively, she peers up at him, face worried.

“Tamahome? What’s wrong?” she asks in a timid voice, shooting Zoku a look. Zoku’s entire body seems to throb, and the source of the pain radiates from her head, and from Tamahome.

“I-it’s Zoku,” he gasps out, shaking his head then groaning at the movement. “She-she’s somehow, in my head. I can feel her.” He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. “Damnit, it hurts. I-I can’t-“ he cuts off what he’s going to say with a grimace.

Zoku stumbles blindly forward with her mind, grasping for the thread that connects her to Tamahome. Flailing, she lashes out at it, severing it. The two ends recoil to each person, jolting both Zoku and Tamahome visibly. Tamahome, however, seems to get the short end of the stick and crumples to his knees.

“Tamahome!” Miaka shrieks, struggling against the rope in an attempt to reach Tamahome. “Tamahome, speak to me!” His head sags against his chest, panting raggedly. “Tamahome?”

Zoku fights to regain control of herself, placing out a hand to steady herself. ‘What the hell just happened?’ She thinks shakily. Pedru flutters his wings to keep his balance as Zoku staggers, trilling a worried note.