AN: I'd like to thank everyone who voted on the poll, GL's staying! This chapter is more of a narrative, but it's important. Think.

Disclaimer, obvi. I don't own Magi, and not even Koujaku's name.

The sun's red rays pierced the stifling darkness of night like a pin through cloth. Koujaku blew out the candles in her tent and drew open the flap, letting the morning breeze circulate the tent's stale air. With a sharp click of her bracelet slotting into place on her wrist, she slotted her musings away together with her doubts and fixed her hair in front of the travel vanity. There's bags under her eyes again, and after she traced her eyes in dark red ochre, she covered the eye bags with a concealer.

She hadn't slept well. Nightmares of falling rocks and thunderous winds had kept her from rest, and she occupied her time with examining her Metal Vessel and going over as much paperwork as possible.

One last tug of her travel robes fixed her image, and she exited the tent.

Outside, the royal attendants were organizing the procession that'll carry the Second Princess to Balbadd. They had been up before dawn, cleaning the caravan, brushing down the horses, stacking boxes and clearing tents, and when Koujaku stepped out, a team immediately went inside to clear up and pack her belongings.

As for the princess, she went to her sister's tent.

"Hakuei?" the redhead lifted the flap of the tent and peered in. "Awake?"

Lighting inside the tent was sparse, but Koujaku recognized Seisyun's white hair. He was busying himself with organizing the First Princess's paperwork. It made several impressively tall stacks on her worktable and for just a second Koujaku felt guilty about going away. Her leave meant all her work went to Hakuei, and trying to conquer through treaties and agreements didn't make for the lightest of bureaucratic work.

A part of the reason Kouen and his vassals liked to conquer by violence. A head off a shoulder, a flag toppled, a table-full of paper work averted. Clean and simple.

But Hakuei wasn't Kouen, and Koujaku wasn't working with Kouen this time.

"Oh, Koujaku-hime!" Seisyun paused in his straightening of papers and gave a low bow. "I'm afraid Hakuei-sama is very tired from yesterday's exertion. She is not yet awake."

"Not a problem. I came to check if she's okay. How's her wounds?"

Glasya-Labolas reversed time only temporarily. Yesterday's wounds might be temporarily undone, but overnight the magic would've worn off as time caught up and the wounds reopened.

"I cleaned and dressed them, Koujaku-hime, and had the doctor take a look," Seisyun bobbed his head and gestured to Hakuei. "They've been disinfected and Hakuei-sama slept soundly."

"Thank you," Koujaku withdrew from the tent. That was all she needed to know. Hakuei knew she was leaving today, so there was no need for Seisyun to pass on that particular bit of information. If the First Princess forgot, the lack of her sister's tent would cue her in. And then a thought registered in Koujaku's mind, and she popped her head in the tent again.

Seisyun was systematically straightening the tea set.

"Did that boy turn up?"

Seisyun placed the cover over a dragon-patterned teapot, then shook his head regretfully.

"If he did, esteemed princess, I did not see him."

Koujaku nodded, lowering the tent's entrance flap.

And flipped it open again, sticking her head in once more with a grin.

"When Hakuei wakes up, give her my greetings."

Without waiting for a surprised Seisyun to reply, she drew out and shut the tent for the final time.

Whistling a tune from one of her memories, Koujaku strode away with a spring in her step, wandering towards the servants preparing the trip.

She had no retainers, no hoard of personal servants, no vassals. The people that were preparing the trip were randomly chosen from the royal household. The princess suspected not many of them had even seen an Imperial Family member before they were switched to this trip.

The procession consisted of ten horses and two servant caravans-horses for the guards and caravans for servants. They were aiming for speed and anonymity. There was only need for one royal caravan, and only one stood in the strengthening light of post-dawn.

It was the size of a command tent with delicately carved imagery on its wooden framework, as was all royal carriages. Styled slightly different from the Western carriages, this one was like an enlarged palanquin. Wood was in place the cloth covers of normal merchant caravans, with arches for doorways, covered by bamboo blinds. Yet even this was a subdued version of the one ridden by the Emperor and Empress and his advisors.

(It wasn't carried by people, though Koumei was considering changing that fact to a. manage the overwhelming amount of slaves [one could only have so many in a household. they did have to be fed, after all] and b. show off their wealth.

Hakuei shot it down. It was inhumane, even for slaves. And what Hakuei said, Kouen agreed. It was a small matter after all, and Kouen really didn't want Hakuei angry at him over trivial matters.)

Drawn by horses, it was large enough for a bed to fit, and fit a bed they did.

The bed had several uses.

On long trips, Koujaku normally sat on the bed (or even slept) to disguise her condition. It wasn't a well known fact, and the imperial family explained it away as an illness.

Her appearance certainly enforced that train of thought. Koujaku's mother was a vicious beauty during her days of glory, and while surprisingly Kouha inherited her soft edges and their father's looks, Koujaku was the one who took after the mother, all sharp edges and pale skin.

Supposedly a trait of beauty, Koujaku's pale skin was no such thing for her. On bad days it was a clammy, sickly shade of pale; on good days, almost translucent in their quality. More often than not, it teetered her on the edge of looking underfed.

Which, of course, was not a possible situation for a member of the Imperial Family to be in.

Another use was to show to the world the determination of the Kou Imperial Family.

Kouha came up with the idea when Koujaku begged their father to let her out of the palace, which was something along the lines of "look at the poor lady she's so sick she needs to stay in bed, but she still goes out for official business-for the Empire!"

Back then, Koujaku didn't care. She was just glad she could finally be of some use to the family.

Presently she had a quick word with the head of the caravan, asked around for the little boy, received no confirmations, and wandered away to the edge of camp.

She liked the Tenzen Plateau. She liked it even better when it was cloudless, as it was today.

The vastness of the sky would always be the same no matter which vision she experienced. That endless blue, that merciful constant in her hurricane of a life, will always calm her.

Sometimes there're clouds. Sometimes there aren't clouds, but the sky in each vision stays always a copy of each other-

That's not a cloud. ...Is that a flying carpet?

While she stood stunned, the black speck half a mile in the air drew close, and revealed itself to be indeed a flying carpet, carrying the little blue-haired boy of yesterday.

As he flew closer, he spotted Koujaku and began to wave frantically from his perch. The smile on his face could've turned night to day.

(Koujaku has her speculations on the shade of that hair and that winning smile. She thinks she'll tease Sinbad about it next time they meet: did he sleep with an albino and sire a bastard child?)

Koujaku smiled slightly and waved back. Despite her agreement to let the boy ride to Qishan with her, she was decidedly neutral to his presence in camp.

He touched down, pulling the carpet with him. A swish, and the cloth was a bundle on top of his head, secured by a jeweled brooch.

"Hello and good morning, onee-san!" He chirped, lively as bird, a hand on his flute, the other gripping tightly onto his knobbly staff.

"'Morning. Glad you made it in time," she reached forwards and patted the turbaned head. "Camp is back that way."

"Aren't you coming, onee-san?" He asked.

Koujaku waved a hand in the air. "I'll be there in a moment."

He looked at her a few seconds more, then smiled and ran off to the servants, who looked delighted to have a child in their midst.

§§§

The caravan set off while the sky was still a delicate shade of pink-white. Morning was properly approaching, and a knock on her carriage door had the servant allowed to travel with her rush to open it.

Outside was a rider holding a packaged breakfast.

Koujaku was initially supposed to leave at noon, after she had finished her breakfast and morning duties, but she personally requested that they leave at daybreak, to make the most of their three-month traveling limit.

Thus, breakfast was reduced to a simple matter served on the way, as with all other meals, when they couldn't afford to stop and cook.

Receiving the package from her servant with a nod and a light smile, Koujaku didn't mind.

She believed anything to be better than Hakuei's concoctions. Breakfast was a small thing, and as there weren't any growing boys (ahem Kouha ahem) around, the staff and a select few (ahem her ahem) allowed Hakuei free reign in the kitchen.

Hakuei wasn't bad, really. It was just a sad twist of fate that anything she cooks became a mess of pot crust. Edible? Almost. Tasty? ..."it's a required taste," Koujaku would say, forcing a smile, and hope her phrasing doesn't egg Hakuei to feed her more.

Before the caravan set off that morning, Hakuei had managed to come out from her tent to bade them bon voyage, all bandaged up.

And insisted Koujaku let the boy- Aladdin -ride in her carriage. Quite adamant.

With a grumble and slight reluctance, Koujaku allowed it.

And thus was her current predicament on the low table beside the carriage bed: her breakfast in its steamy goodness in front of her, the boy's blue orbs shining with viscous tears a tabletop away. That somehow managed to not overflow.

(It was nowhere as adorable a puppy face as Kouha's.)

Koujaku wondered if he had breakfast before he left the Kouga clan grounds.

Surely, they would? Or was this boy just a glutton?

With a defeated huff, Koujaku pushed the packaged food in his direction.

A squeal, blue eyes curved into elated crescents, little hands clapping together in bliss.

Koujaku tugged on a stray strand of hair, shrugged.

"You're so kind, onee-san! I thought at first that you were so scary," he began to speak while stuffing his face, chopsticks clumsy but effective, and Koujaku winced silently. "When I asked Hakuei-nee about you because I was curious at how the soldiers seemed more afraid of you then Ugo-kun and that was surprising and despite you barely saying anything that time at the tent and then again on the field so I asked Hakuei-nee about you and she said," he took a gulp of breath past his food, and while he didn't spill anything, Koujaku's fingers twitched behind her long sleeves. Aladdin giggled then, almost choked, before wolfing down his mouthful to continue talking, "she said that you are really nice but you have that effect on people and you can be harsh at times but deep down you're good and kind and warm and," he took a break to smile, huge and bright, a fleck of rice on the corner of his mouth, "she's right, because you let me have all of your breakfast! Even Alibaba only gives me half!"

He slurped on the sauce. "Can we be friends?"

Koujaku's hidden fingers stopped miming the notes of her current piece.

She tilted her head quizzically and chose to ignore the question. "Didn't the Kouga feed you?" she asked, gesturing to the manner at which he gobbled down her breakfast.

"Oh," he bobbed his head, extracting the chopsticks from their current position in his mouth. "They did! But I woke up late and I flew on the carpet all the way here and used up all my magoi so I got really hungry." He patted his stomach.

"My magoi originates from the stomach, you see," he continued, placing down his chopsticks and sitting back, "so when I use up my magoi I get really hungry really fast."

Koujaku raised a red eyebrow. "Aren't you a magi?"

"Yes?"

"So why would you 'use up' your magoi?" Koujaku drew quotation marks in the air beside her head with delicate fingers.

"Huh?" The boy rocked back in the lotus position, holding his feet, eyes wide and innocent. "How does being a magi mean not running out of magoi?"

Koujaku was silently puzzled. Judar certainly never mentioned running out of magoi. He only seemed more and more fired up whenever he did use magic. Only the court mages did that. Only her siblings and their vassals did that. She had assumed being magi meant a never ending supply of magoi, though damn if she knew why.

She shrugged again, then waved her hand to motion the servant over to clear away the food.

"Within a month we'll be at Qishan," she peered curiously at the boy, "why are you heading there? It's a far place for a kid to go. Most here don't even know of that particular trading post."

"I'm looking for a friend," he immediately replied. "I got separated with him there."

"Separated? So far away?" A red brow, carefully plucked, was raised.

"It's a long story. Would nee-san like to hear?" Another blinding smile.

If smiles could be transformed into magoi, the boy could power a thousand war ships, Koujaku thought, but she said, "We have time. Tell all the stories you want."

The boy practically lit up in excitement. Even his braid received a spasm of his energy, briefly curling up.

Koujaku smiled lightly, and with another wave of her hand the servant drew the curtains around her alienated platform and the boy launched into one of the most animated storytelling Koujaku has seen since Hakuren.

Which, incidentally, only made her smile more.