Starlit Reflections: Dark Quarter

Fushigi Yuugi is copyright Watase Yuu, Flower Comics, Studio Perriot, Pioneer Entertainment, Viz Communications and other interested parties. The characters and situation are used without permission for personal entertainment only, and no copyright infringements are intended. No profit is being made from this fic; if there was, Tasuki and Tamahome would lighten me of it, as soon as they could.

Chapter Four: On The Plains ~ Hikitsu

"They say," Hikitsu once said, "that the hero only dies one death, but a coward dies a thousand times."

I replied, thoughtfully, "That seems awfully harsh on all the people who aren't heroes."

Hikitsu shrugged. "I prefer to think of it as an indictment on heroes, myself."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it says that only cowards are bright enough to anticipate and avoid dangerous situations."

The plains of central Hokkan are deceptive. With all these broad, flat expanses of land, apparently well-watered by the broad rivers, a southerner might well ask why they are great plains of grass, and not a chequered gameboard of farmland.

The answer lies in a combination of our geography and our climate. Our crisp weather is cooler than that of the more southern nations, and warmth is needed for the growth of crops. Also, steady rainfall is required for intensive farming - and the mountains which border our country in the north and south often block the rainclouds, pregnant with lifegiving rain, which lie low in the sky. The southernmost part of Hokkan beyond the mountains, and our most eastern regions, bordered by the sea, both enjoy regular and plentiful rainfall. It should be no surprise that they are farmland, and produce the fine millets and wheat that in their turn provide us all with flour for bread, a foodstuff quite alien to the south.

To our west, where the mountains draw close together, the rivers do not flow and the land is so poor that it can only be called desert. And the plains of the centre are too dry to farm and too fine to ignore; so there dwell the herding tribes who make up the most of my people.

We were going to run into them sooner or later. Between you and I, I would have preferred it to be 'later'.

I am absolutely convinced that Genbu was paying very close attention to our progression, for that is the only explanation I can provide to the fact that no snow fell before us, to halt or slow our path; and that we were not hampered by sleet nor storm nor blizzard. This was yet more remarkable, as we were moving north during winter.

Do not ever say the Gods do not know their peoples, their lands, or their business; they may take steps to teach you otherwise.

Hatsui and I, by unspoken accord, rode together behind Takiko and Namame.

I was not trustful of this new event, even taking into account my jealousy. It is one thing to fall into a sudden, desperate attraction; such things happen regularly and are sometimes even mutual. But this was somehow something more and deeper than a passing crush, and its intensity was almost frightening.

True to Hatsui's leavening humour, Namame and Takiko had blinked, and begun to speak - almost shyly, as if each was afraid of what the other would do in response, and receiving the words of the other as if they were treasures studded with precious gems.

I was caught between amusement at their hesitant steps and exasperation at their lack of speed. Takiko had turned to Namame; I should be able to see something that made the loss, if not worthwhile, then at least explained.

"I'm pleased they're taking it slowly," Hatsui told me that evening, when I mentioned the matter, in a roundabout fashion, and not mentioning my feelings of jealous abandonment. Takiko and Namame were out of hearing range, but well within sight, fetching us water for tea from the roadside well. There was no toll on this particular well, but they spent so much time fussing over the bucket, they might as well be negotiating the price.

I sighed. "I just wish they'd declare themselves, or something," I said mournfully. "They're in love with each other -"

"Are they really?" Hatsui said thoughtfully.

I looked at him.

He looked at me, and his eyes were hooded in the evening sunlight. "Uruki, I've never said this, but you're really an innocent little girl who doesn't have a clue about the real world." He blew at a puff of smoke that was drifting near his face. "In the bottom of your mind, you believe in True Love and Honesty and Justice and all that rubbish."

"... it isn't rubbish," I said faintly, staring at the fire between us.

"My point exactly."

"I mean it," I said, looking him in the eyes and glaring at him. "It isn't rubbish! You hear the truth - that means it has to exist! Your own existence is proof of it."

Hatsui shook his head with a rueful grin. "Yes, mistress," he murmured with mock respect.

"And don't do that. You're not a Court eunuch!"

"Oh, I know that," he said, in the oddest tone of voice.

Namame and Takiko returned (with a full bucket) before I could ask him what he meant.

I decided to talk to Takiko the next morning. So I rode up beside her as we set off the next day.

Namame was on her other side (of course), but I decided to ignore that. It wasn't like I could wave my hand and dismiss him. He seemed to understand my feelings, though, and gracefully retired to Hatsui's side.

The glares I aimed at him may have helped somewhat.

"You don't like Namame, Uruki," Takiko accused me mildly as he withdrew.

"Whatever gave you that idea? He's a perfectly pleasant young man," I replied calmly. "It's just that I haven't had the chance to talk to you for a while."

Takiko winced. "I see," she muttered.

We rode in uncomfortable silent for a few minutes, and then I smiled. "Look over there!"

Takiko looked, and frowned. "I don't see anything."

"Over here," I said, looking down at the side of the road. Takiko rode over to me, and then recoiled. "Oh," she said faintly.

I blinked up at her. "What is wrong, Takiko? They're grass pythons - Genbu's sacred snake."

"There - aren't any snakes in Japan," she said softly. I didn't hear the edge of horror in her voice. I will always wonder what would have happened if I had.

But I didn't hear, and I didn't look up to see the expression on her face as I dismounted and slid my hand into the knot. Poor things, they were hungry for any scrap of warmth before the snows flew and they entered their long sleep through the winter, and so they crept over my hands and twisted around my wrists. Their soft, dry skins tickled as they ran over the back of my hands, and I laughed at the sensation.

"What is it?" Hatsui called, from where he and Namame were riding behind us.

"Come and look - both of you!" I called gayly, smiling as the snakes wove around my hands.

They did, and I raised my eyes to Namame's. With a smile of rueful apology, I said, "Come and pat them. They're perfectly friendly."

Hatsui was faster in dismounting than Namame, and strolled over to unwind a few of the snakes from my hands. "Grass pythons?" he said. "But isn't it a bit late for them?"

"Genbu is smiling on us," I replied happily.

"I agree. This is definitely the best of all possible omens," Namame said. He looked up at me and smiled, a gentle smile of forgiveness. Reaching down into the knot himself, he let the black-and-green snakes creep over his skin, smiling at the touch of the rough edges of their scales. Yes, they were ready for hibernation, and it would likely only be a few more hours before they curled up in their burrow, fat on rats and mice, and began to sleep the winter out, growing in peace and stretching their skins to the breaking point. Fine snakeskins would be lying on the ground here, come spring, and I resolved that I'd come back and find them.

None of us paid attention to the fact that Takiko remained mounted and silent.

The truly painful thing about journeying that nobody ever tells you is the way that, when you are in towns, you sleep in inns (or houses) with beds, which have pillows and mattresses; and, when you are not in towns, you sleep on the ground, on a pad fashioned of blankets, covered by another. If you are wise enough to purchase one, another option is a padded sack, made to the dimensions of a human; these roll up to much the same size as a bulky blanket and are infinitely more convenient. You're still lying on the ground, though.

The contrast is very painful. But you don't have to believe me. Ask Namame. He and I commiserated all afternoon as we rode north again.

Takiko had been very quiet after we had eaten our noon meal. I don't think she was very happy about the way Hatsui, Namame and I kept giving titbits to the snakes.

I don't regret it though. I still felt jealous of Namame, but it was nowhere near as virulent as it had been earlier; it was as if the pythons had reminded me that he was as much my brother as Hatsui, and so, as we had stroked these small reminders of our God, I had begun to speak to him. Our conversation remained light, but still... it was better than it had been.

We came upon a tribe of herders that afternoon.

The large, circular felt tents that custom decrees for the herders of the plains aren't the most efficient housing design in the world. However, the people of the plains have lived in them for hundreds of years; and custom is inviolate. We do things which we have done for hundreds of years because we have done them for hundreds of years. Logic does not come into the question.

The encampment of the nomad tribe seemed no different to any of the other tribes I'd seen from the wall around the Great Khan's palace, but with one significant difference.

They were herding horses.

The scholars may discuss the gold and gemstone deposits in the southern mountains to their heart's content. Tutors may speak of the rich alluvial soil of the south and east all they like. To me and the majority of my countrymen, our horses are our greatest wealth. The proud arch of their necks as they toss their manes - the sure step on their strong hooves - the fiery light of the sun through flickering tails - the beauty of a well-bred, well-trained horse is unmatched in all the world.

We rode down on our little ponies - and how little they looked, when compared to their full-sized cousins! - and introduced ourselves. We were welcomed and invited to stay for the night.

With that out of the way, I was able to do a little exploring, and I'm sure that it is understandable how I managed to end up beside the fence of the riding-horses' enclosure.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Takiko said, from behind me.

"Oh, yes," I agreed fervently.

She seemed uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, so I decided to make it easier on her. "I'm sorry that we made such a fuss over the pythons at noontime."

She seemed taken aback, so I continued. "I should have realized you were uncomfortable with them -"

"No, no!" she interrupted me. "It was all right. There was no need to stop you. I'm just not used to snakes. That was all."

I looked at her, she at me, and we both smiled at each other. I knew what she hadn't said, and she seemed to understand that I'd been out of sorts. She held out her hand, and I took it.

"Well, well, what have we here?" the tribe's headman's son came strolling up, with two other young men behind him.

I let go of Takiko's hand, reluctantly, and stepped away from her. "Admiring the horses," I said as calmly as I could. "They are beautiful."

"As beautiful as us?" one of the boys leered. I took a step back, further away, and was gratified to see their eyes following me, and not Takiko as she quietly eased away from the group.

"I think there's no sight quite like a beautiful horse," I replied evasively, and took another step back. Unfortunately, this brought me right up to the fence. The boys saw it and encircled me. I swallowed. My only consolation was that Takiko was well away by now.

"I'm sure I can change your mind," the headman's son leered.

"I'm not," I retorted, and quickly climbed to the top of the fence. I took a flying leap off the thin wooden paling and landed awkwardly on a young roan mare. Sitting up as fast as I dared, I saw the three boys scrambling over the fence. Without another thought, I kicked the poor mare. Hard.

The horse charged off, over the plains, and I hung on for dear life. I was an idiot! I berated myself as the frightened horse fled. I had only learnt to ride less than a month ago, and now I was trying to ride with neither bit nor saddle! I couldn't tell the horse where to go, much less to slow down and let me off - I should never have tried this!

The only thing I could think of to do was hang on until the mare tired herself out, and then when she stopped running, let myself fall off. It wouldn't be long, I told myself. After all, I am a weight, and she's obviously not used to running with a rider.

What I did not know at the time was that there's a difference between 'galloping' and 'running'. The first is a gait that, while it is very fast and does spend a lot of the horse's energy, is a natural part of a horse's life and so can be sustained for quite a while. The second is an instinctive response to danger and is faster but can't be kept up by a horse for a long period of time.

The mare had started out running, but had adjusted to a gallop. I wasn't that heavy, so she would probably have been able to keep it up for quite a long time... if the ice wall hadn't snapped up directly in front of her. She saw the jagged sheet of ice suddenly spring up in front of her, and reared. I, like the complete tyro that I was, let go of her mane; and as she flung me off, I watched the rough hair arc and fall against her neck.

Silly horse will end up breaking her neck, I thought dreamily; and then with a knock so quick it didn't even hurt, the darkness swallowed me.

It did hurt, very much so, when I woke.

"Don't move," a male voice, gently admonishing, chided me. "You've got quite a nasty bump."

"Takiko? Hatsui? Namame?" I asked blankly. I didn't try to open my eyes. I could feel a cold compress over them, so trying to open them wouldn't have done me much good anyway. "My head hurts," I inanely commented to the unknown man.

The man seemed to pause. For a long second I couldn't hear him do anything. Then the soft splashing of water in a stone basin resumed. "What is your name?" he asked me softly.

"Uruki," I said. "Well, actually, it's Mei Ling, but I'm Genbu Shichiseishi Uruki, and I'm accompanying the Priestess of Genbu, so I'm not really Mei Ling, not until we call Genbu. And I don't think I'll be Mei Ling then either, because I can't go back, can I? They've seen to that. I wasn't a threat to anyone, he didn't even notice me! Why did they have to do that?" I was babbling, but I couldn't stop myself.

"It's all right," he said soothingly. "Being Uruki isn't bad, is it?" He gently lifted the compress from my eyes, and I blinked them open. The figure bending over me was fuzzy, but he gradually came into focus.

An elegant, fine-boned face greeted me. Fine grey-white hair hung down around his face, and his thin lips were smiling at me. His left eye was a clear and steady grey, while his right....

I couldn't help myself. I reached up and gently touched the tears that flowed down his cheek, welling up in a futile, instinctive attempt to soothe the burning of the symbol graven on the eye.

Yet he was smiling, though the skin around his lips was taut with pain.

"My name is Chen Emtato," he said softly, "but I prefer to be called Hikitsu."

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