WARNING! This fic is yaoi (m/m lovers) and certain chapters will be very LEMON! These chapters are NOT neccessary to the fic, however, and will be marked seperately so if you wish to avoid them, you may. However, you'll still have to deal with the yaoi implications.
 

CHAPTER 1
 

Chichiri trudged wearily up the road. His feet dragged along the hard packed, dusty surface, and the brim of his kasa was pulled low to hide his face. Beneath the shadow, even his smiling mask seemed less cheerful than normal. Though the summer sky was a brilliant blue and birds sang choruses all around him, he appeared not to notice, lost in his own gloomy thoughts.

*Why am I still doing this, no da?* He wondered to himself for the hundredth time that day, perhaps the millionth time that month. *Moving aimlessly from town, never staying long enough to make friends, or even acquaintances. Once Suzaku was called, my destiny was fulfilled. What more is there to live for?*

He glanced to one side, automatically looking for the flame-red hair, dancing amber eyes, and foul mouth of the one man left in the world that understood him. Tasuki, the only other remaining Suzaku Seishi, had been his constant travel companion for nearly two and a half years. But the pointless life on the road had finally gotten to the good-natured bandit, and he had departed from Chichiri's side six months ago, to make his way back to his mountain home. Chichiri sighed heavily, feeling as if a great weight rested upon his chest. *Six months and I still miss him like crazy, no da!* The thought depressed him more, and he sighed again. *Maybe I should go visit Mt. Leikaku, na no da.* That idea brightened his spirits considerably, and he perked up immediately. *Hai, no da! That's exactly what I'll do no da!*

His steps no longer dragging, Chichiri set off more purposefully along the road he had been traveling. He was, he realized with no little amusement, already heading in the proper direction and on the correct road to get there. *Guess my subconscious already knew what I was going to do, no da!* He grinned to himself, and his magical mask echoed the expression as if with relief to be back to its normal state.
 
 

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It was mid-afternoon when Chichiri reached the city of Hinansho(1), the last large town before the territory of the Leikaku bandits began. Despite its name, the town was full of men equally as disreputable as the bandits - worse, in fact, since these were the men that Tasuki and Kouji had refused to add to their well-trained, loyal group. Tasuki's men, whom he led under his old name of Genrou, were, in all, a rather honourable bunch; and while both Tasuki and Kouji could be merciless when it pleased them, both suffered from the inflictions of soft hearts and loud consciences.

As he entered the town, Chichiri debated whether or not to stop there for the night. While there were still several hours of daylight left, he would not be able to make it to the bandit hideout before night fell. And he had no particular desire to be out in bandit-controlled forest at night, friend or no. The bandits had a nasty habit of shooting first and asking questions not at all at night, and they likely wouldn't recognize him in the dark.

Having decided to stay, Chichiri set out to find a half-decent inn to spend the night in. This turned out to be a more difficult task than he would have thought. After nearly an hour of frustrated searching and finding nothing but vermin infested hell-holes, he was about ready to give up and risk the night guards of the forest, when he heard a commotion off to one side.

"IIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" a high-pitched voice screamed from a darkened alley. "Iiee! Hanasteyo! On-onegai! Yamete!" There was the meaty sound of flesh hitting flesh, and another scream, wordless this time. Rough laughter echoed from the alley, muffling the sound of gasping sobs.

Chichiri's eyes widened, and he glanced around quickly. What few other occupants the street had were hastily averting their eyes from the alley, and scurrying off. With a snarl of contempt for the other passerby, Chichiri set his staff before him and charged into the alley.

The sight which met his eyes was pretty much what he had expected. Six large men surrounded a young woman with bright, flame-red hair in a torn, stained set of men's trousers and little else. The pieces of a man's linen shirt on the ground told him that the men had probably already begun ripping her clothes off in preparation for their 'entertainment'. Her pale, slender arms were held before her in a useless attempt to cover her more than ample chest, while the men laughed at her modesty. Chichiri's eyes narrowed in disgust. He'd seen this scene played out far too many times before.

"Yamete!" he commanded, staff brandished before him. Two of the men turned to snarl at him, while the other four ignored him completely.

"Go find one of your own," said one brute roughly. "This one's ours."

Chichiri pulled off his mask with one hand, revealing his scarred face. He lowered his staff to the ground with a crack, the rings jangling discordantly. "Perhaps you didn't understand me the first time," he growled. "Leave her alone!"

One man cracked his knuckles, and the other pulled out a club from somewhere. The woman had abandoned her efforts to cover her chest in a desperate attempt to keep her pants in one piece, as two of the others seemed intent on cutting them off her. Chichiri noted distantly that she was doing a fairly good job of fighting back, using nails, teeth and feet to do a fair amount of damage to the brutes. Unfortunately, this was simply inciting them to be rougher, and her strength was no match for theirs.

Chichiri had had enough. Raising his ki, he let his battle aura flare out around him, the shining red of one of Suzaku's Seishi lightening the alleyway. Startled, the two men who were set to attack him backed off.

"I said, leave her be!" He yelled, and forced his ki outwards in a blinding wave, which knocked four of the six men back from the girl. The four men touched by the light screamed in pain, and their two luckier companions turned and ran at the sound. As Chichiri's aura withdrew back towards him, the other four followed their friends out of the alley, leaving the stunned girl alone with the Seishi.

Chichiri let his aura fade, and knelt tiredly before the woman, who was now curled up in a ball, hands covering her face. "Daijoubu?" he asked, gathering up the scraps of her shirt. Realizing the garment was too far-gone to be repaired, even temporarily, he gave up and unfastened his kesa, slinging it around her shoulders.

Her long red hair, matted and dirty, streamed down the blue cloth, giving the impression of fire dancing on water. Chichiri sensed that, properly cleaned and taken care of, the mass would be a waterfall of fiery silk. The girl's body was delicate and well proportioned, and he could easily see why she had been targeted for the attack, especially in this city. "Daijoubu?" He asked again, concerned that she had not answered him.

Her delicate hands gripped the material around her torso, and she stared at it disbelievingly. Finally she raised wide amber eyes to his face. "Chichiri?" she exclaimed, her voice soft and melodious. Startled that she knew his name, and feeling eerily as if he should know her, Chichiri took a step back.

"Chichiri!" She cried out, leaping to her feet and grabbing his hands to prevent him from backing further away. She was openly sobbing, the tears running down her stunning features like rivers, her chest heaving with gasping breaths. "Suzaku-sama, it's really you! Ya gotta fucking help me, Chichiri! I can't take it anymore!"

Chichiri stared into those wild amber eyes, stifling an insane urge to laugh at the incongruousness of the harsh language coming from such a delicate-seeming woman. The language, the manner, that fiery hair, those amber eyes…. "Masaka!" Chichiri cried in disbelief. He glanced down at her arm, knowing and dreading what he would see there.

On her forearm, glowing in red, was the symbol of a Suzaku Seishi.

Tasuki's symbol.
 

(1) Hinansho means "shelter"
 
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