Disclaimer: FY equals Yu Watase

Yes, I'm writing another Chichiri story. It seems to be a compulsion of some sort...

This is after all the OVAs… so Chichiri is around 29 years old…

Until we meet Again

The path between the two mountains had been carved out by merchants, who had needed a way to travel between villages more quickly. Normally the space between the carved out rock was cool in temperature, protecting by earth on both sides and therefore shaded. Only a fool would have traveled through it at noon, when the sun was directly up in the sky.

Chichiri felt like a fool.

Slowly and painfully he was hiking up the incline, the sun beating down on him causing beads of sweat to roll down his chest beneath his shirt. It was so hot… so unbearably hot that his skin felt like it was literally burning and separating from his flesh. Underneath his kasa, his hair was plastered to his face, his breathing a bit too hard.

'Well at least this way I won't be attacked by bandits…' The thought made him smile. He half wondered what Tasuki was up to… he hadn't seen him for… what was it, two years now? They'd parted ways directly after Miaka and Taka went back to their world. Hotohori and all the other senshis, back in their childish forms, had been taken back to their own villages.

He could still remember them standing by one another as the little girl, Nuriko, ran off into the distance into the arms of her family. Tasuki had awkwardly looked at him.

'Guess this is goodbye…' he'd said gruffly.

Chichiri had smiled at him. 'Yes. Take care of yourself. I hope your gang has success.'

'What'll you be do'n?'

Chichiri half shrugged. 'Wandering again I suppose…'

His 'suppose' had been correct. Chichiri took to wondering between villages, most of who thankfully didn't recognize him as a warrior of Suzaku. Those who did normally gave him more attention than he felt comfortable with. He never stayed anywhere long.

It was days like today that made him feel tired… and old. 'Where am I going? Why am I going there?' He couldn't say. The only thing he knew how to do was to try to be of some use to the villagers while he was with them… but it never seemed like much.

'Miaka and Tamahome aren't coming back this time,' he thought quietly as he paused in his trek, his heart beating wildly in his chest from all the exercise. 'I'll never be reunited with anyone again…' A deep sadness swept over his heart. He realized that somewhere deep inside him he selfishly hoped for something to happen so that he would once again have a purpose again. He wanted to be needed again. After all, he wasn't that old. Not thirty yet… what was he going to do for the rest of his life?

Suddenly the cry of a song bird pierced the air, causing him to whirl around and stare. The sight of the huge bird, perched on the rock beside him, easily as big as he was shocked him. The beautiful red feathers made his heart feel like it had stopped beating.

"Suzaku…?" he gasped.

The bird looked down, arching it neck in a way that suggested intellect. Chichiri slowly lowered himself to his knees, wondering if perhaps the sun had finally broiled his brains. Still he bowed his head respectfully and waited.

After two minutes in this position, his neck had a horrible creak and his knees felt like they would give out. He carefully raised his head.

The bird was gone.

Chichiri stood up slowly, his eyes still fixed to the spot. 'Was it just a hallucination then?' he wondered.

He turned and another cry pierced, not the air but his heart. The bird's song called again, but this time it called for him. The song was incredibly sweet and sad and without even realizing it, tears began to slide down his face, making his mask begin to peel like wet paper. A terrific red light engulfed him, throwing him up in the air. It was unlike any of his own magic he was familiar with, something entirely foreign and somewhat frightening. Within seconds he had faded from view, disappearing entirely.

The security guard was walking by the restricted section when he heard a 'thunk' come from inside. He opened it and shined his flashlight over the shelves. When he saw nothing he left again, his footsteps padding softly on the carpet as he walked to the next floor.

He never saw the small red book that had fallen off it's shelf.

Of course, 'fallen' is a relative term. 'Jumped' is more appropriate.

Review if you like (and if you didn't like)

Next Chapter: Chichiri in Tokyo! He gets very confused.