Chapter One
The dull glow of the computer, normally all but invisible, stood out like a beacon in the velvety blackness of the night. Soft light radiating from the monitor gave an ethereal cast to its user's perky features. Large green eyes, usually brimming with emotion, grew lifeless with each monotonous click of the mouse. Her blank expression gave testimony that she had fallen prey to the kind of mindlessness only to be found in those who surfed the Web at three in the morning.
Stretching sinuously, waves of reddish-brown hair spilled over Miaka Yuuki's upraised arms. She stood abruptly, and announced to the empty room, "My butt has gone numb." Undeterred by the lack of response, she continued. "I think a Sprite would be nice right now. Yes, Miaka," she agreed, "A Sprite would be nice. But first..."
She highlighted the entry box for Search, and typed in quickly Santana. With luck, it would be able to locate some sites by the time she had completed the brief journey to her kitchen and back. The Internet was usually less crowded at night, making it faster to find something.
She tromped back to her computer, perversely enjoying the noise that the thick soles of her combat boots produced. Obnoxious was not the word to describe the couple that lived beneath her. If she could disturb their rest even a little, she would consider the night well spent.
A drop of crimson on her keyboard caused Miaka to look at her hand in bemusement. Her index finger was bleeding profusely from a shallow gash. She stared at it quizzically for a moment, and then shrugged. Sticking it into her mouth, she decided that she must have cut it on the can of soda.
Settling back in front of her computer, she looked at the sites listed and groaned. She had accidentally typed "Suzaku" instead of Santana.
"Shoot. Maybe the fact that I failed every spelling test I ever took in elementary school actually meant something...Nah. That would have made my teachers right and that's just too weird to even consider."
Her mouse was poised to click on Home, when something caught her eye. Under a Website titled "The Four Gods," was a description. It read;
"Adventure with a beautiful young heroine, many gorgeous men, and as much free food as you can eat."
Interest immediately piqued, Miaka highlighted the site. What were the chances of her two favorite things in the world being listed? She didn't really care about the "beautiful young heroine" part. After all, if she did, the "many gorgeous men" wouldn't have held much appeal, now would it?
There wasn't any time for thoughts beyond that not even that it was downloading unnaturally fast, before a scarlet light filled her eyes and a dull roar her ears. She gave a wordless scream of terror.
"Not my hard drive!" came the anguished wail.
When the light cleared she blinked. She was standing in an open clearing, inhabited by rocks, lizards, and a few scruffy bushes. Also - a few equally unattractive and scruffy bandits.
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she muttered. The wisecrack helped not at all.
She whirled in shock as a hand seized her arm roughly. Facing her were five ill-matched men with swords. Each of them was twice her height and as heavily muscled as a bear. She could have cared less. Galvanized into action by the rudeness of the creep, she punched - a friendly greeting from her home city of Tokyo. Miaka had been in enough street fights that the return blow wasn't unexpected. What was unexpected was its force. It sent her sprawling, dazed to the ground. Closing her eyes, she waited for a succeeding blow that never came. Cracking an eyelid open tentatively, she saw the five bandits facing one lone black haired hunk.
"My arm! My arm! Get him!" The leader of the band, who had previously been descending on Miaka, was clutching his abused appendage from the painful treatment it had received at the hand of the newcomer.
The four men followed the orders of their indisposed leader, rushing the man and shouting oaths that made even Miaka blush. From her prone position on the ground, she watched the man fight with awe. Flowing like water from one opponent to another, her savior quickly took them down. Bruised, battered, and beaten, her assailants just scraped up the energy to turn tail and run.
"I didn't really need your help," she lied blithely, "But thanks anyway." The man turned to look at her. It was then that she saw the blazing gold symbol of the demon on his forehead.
He gave an incredulous snort. "What do you mean, you didn't need my help?" he demanded. "Never mind that. Thanks are all very well and good, but you know what's better? Money." He held out his hand expectantly before her.
"I don't know if I have any..." Miaka began searching her pockets. It proved fruitless.
"Nope, sorry. I must have left my wallet at home."
The man looked disgusted and turned away. "Great. I saved a miser." Disdain clear, he started to walk.
"Wait! I'm lost! Tell me where I am!"
"Sorry, no can do," he replied maliciously. "I've gotta go - poor folk bug me."
"Hey, get back here you big jerk!" Belatedly, she staggered to her feet and began to chase after him, but it was too late. He was gone.
"Oh no you don't. I'm not letting you get away that easily," she swore.
Hitching a ride on the back of a hay wagon, Miaka surveyed the surrounding land as she passed. Rolling green hills and sparkling blue streams were all she could see. It was a startling contrast to the barren area she had just left. To the right, a pristine city rose out of the tall grass. Miaka gasped, she had never seen anything like it. After all, in her experience, a pristine city was practically an oxymoron. Astonishment was quickly taken over by satisfaction as she spied the man.
"Got you now buddy. Thanks for the ride, mister!" Hopping off the back, Miaka ran toward the city, leaving behind a very confused wagon driver.
But upon arrival in the city, she realized she was lost and could no longer see the man.
"Shit! I've lost him! What will I do now? I'm lost in a foreign city, with no food or shelter. I'll shrivel up and die! Wild dogs will eat me, I'll get mumps, and, and..... mm, teriyaki beef." Her melodramatic tirade was cut off by the scent of food sold in the stall next to her.
"Excuse me, but have you seen a good looking man with the symbol of a demon on his forehead?" Miaka passed a few coins to the vendor as he handed her some food.
"No, but you can call me good looking any time." Miaka surveyed him carefully. He was dirty, sporting three-day-old stubble and acne scars from his youth that had never quite cleared up.
"If it's all the same, I think not."
"Huh?" He looked down, examining the coins. "Hey! This isn't real money!" Miaka ran off shouting, "Stuff it! I've had enough trouble for today!"
After getting far enough away, Miaka sat on a crate in a side alley to contemplate her next course of action.
"What do I do now? I'm all alone, in a strange world, and the guy with demon symbol is missing. If only there was some cute guy radar. If only I were back home!" As she was thinking aloud, an attractive blonde man approached her and tapped her lightly on the back, causing her to jump down from where she had been sitting.
"Excuse me, miss, but I can't help but notice that you're new around here. Would you like to go to the parade with me?"
"Parade? What parade?" she questioned. Then her thoughts intruded in a flash.
'Am I being picked up? Have I crafted myself into the woman of every man's dreams?'
Coyly, but as not to appear shy, Miaka grabbed the guy by his shirt. "I'd love to, but I'm looking for someone," she answered promptly. The man smiled winningly at her.
"The guy with the demon symbol, right? He's a friend of mine."
"Really? Then what's his name?" she asked suspiciously.
"Jack," he responded, so promptly that all of her fears were assuaged.
"Great! Can I meet him?" At the man's nod, Miaka followed the friendly stranger, happily unaware of any impending danger.
Some time later, the man stopped. She found herself in an abandoned alley, far from the man square. Movement in the shadows revealed half starved rats, whose red eyes gleamed ferally. Doors to deserted buildings waved desolately to her, their thin planks making thumping sounds as they hit the cracked mortar of decrepit walls. From these run-down shacks came a group of disreputable looking men. Come to think of it, that was the only sort of men she seemed to be meeting today... Miaka's guide smiled at her again, this time in a menacing, dangerous fashion.
"We're here."
"Um.... where's here?" she asked nervously, hoping she was missing something. A niggling suspicion was growing that she had been duped. The stench of stale urine brought back memories of the neighborhood she had grown up in. A neighborhood that had boasted more than its fair share of robberies, gang wars, drug deals, muggings, and otherwise unpleasant incidents. Though the argument could be made that was only to be expected in a ghetto, it didn't mean that she had enjoyed the situation.
The next words of the men confirmed her fears.
"Look at her clothes," one man said.
"Clothes? Look at those legs. It should be a crime to have ones that nice," another man in blue put in.
"Legs are all very nice, but look at those breasts! Is it true women traveling alone are looking for excitement?" A third man grabbed her as he asked. She punched him, but he just grinned and shrugged it off. Miaka was now backed against a wall with four men leering at her.
"Great. A gang of thugs in Ancient...wherever. I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book," Miaka groaned, crushed by her stupidity. Briefly, she found herself wishing her posse was there; Yui, Takiko, and Suzuno. No one had ever bothered the four girls more than once. Also, right about now, she could really use the back up.
"All right," she said, turning to face the toughs with sudden authority. "You picked the wrong woman to mess with. Another time, I might have let you off with a mere warning, but it hasn't been my day." Maybe bluffing would work... "Now I'm pissed, so you're going to pay!"
Hmm. They weren't leaving, nor did they look particularly intimidated. That wasn't good.
"Oh, I'm quaking," one said in a mocking falsetto. "What's one little girl like you going to do to four big, strong men like us, all alone?"
"All alone..." Her eyes widened and took on an unholy gleam. "That's right, I'm all alone in a strange city, possibly in another world. So that means..." She pushed her sleeves up and braced herself against the wall, "No police and no assault records!"
"Huh?"
"Okay punks! You had your chance. Do you see this vaccination mark? In the name of heaven, it will punish you! Now for the battle cry; embrace death!" With her ferocious cry echoing off the walls, Miaka launched herself at the men.
*************************
"Suzaku's flaming tail," Tamahome swore to himself, half in disbelief, half in admiration, "That girl is crazy!"
He watched the fight from the top of the wall he was casually perched on. If things got too bad, he would lend her a hand, of course - but as matters stood, he was interested in seeing how things worked out. He had never seen fighting like hers, and was willing to bet the gold he didn't have that neither had they. Come to think of it, he had never seen a girl fight, period. Most women could hire men to do it for them.
That was hardly the only strange thing about her either. Instead of a skirt, she wore pants, with wide legs, cut out of some cloth he had never seen. The epithets she shouted as the men fell to her made his ears burn, and he was only half sure what they meant. What was a goat and how exactly did one go about...mating with one?
"Huh. That was surprisingly easy," the girl said to herself, dusting off her hands as the last man collapsed. "I expected more of a fight. Well, whatever."
As she bent down to tie her shoe, the hand of one of the fallen men snaked out and seized her ankle. She pivoted, wearing an expression of shock as he jerked her feet out from underneath her.
Tamahome winced at her head's collision with a rock that left her stunned and helpless. Sympathy turned to fury as he saw what the man had in mind.
Grabbing a rock from nearby, he hurled it at the man's head. Once he was certain he had gotten the man's attention, he stood, holding another. "Five men," he said coldly, punctuating each word with the slap of flesh on stone as he tossed and caught the rock, again and again. "Five men to handle one little girl? Why don't we make the odds more even?" He snatched the rock from midair and attacked.
As they had many times in the past, man after man went down beneath his superior strength. Tamahome could feel the sign of the demon blazing on his forehead, giving him power and fueling his rage by serving to remind him of his difference.
Only when the last man had gone did he turn to face the girl. She took his proffered arm with a look of confusion as he hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.
"Are you all right?" he asked gently.
"Um, yeah. Thanks for saving me again." She blinked several times, eyes gaining clarity. Quit calmly, she drew back her fist and punched him in the stomach. "For future reference, I'm not a little girl, fruitcake. I'm twenty years old."
Tamahome gaped at her. "Who are you?" he blurted out disbelievingly.
"Miaka," she beamed. "And what's your name, Mr. Black-haired-hunk-with-a- demon-symbol? I've been looking for you all over, ya know."
"I know. And my name's Tamahome. Now that you've found me, what do you want?"
She stared at him, clearly at a loss.
"That's what I thought. I don't suppose you've gotten any richer since last time? No? I didn't think so. Well, since you don't need me for anything, I'll just be going." He pulled loose from her grip and started sauntering away casually.
"No wait - oh!"
Tamahome turned just in time to catch her as her knees buckled. The delicate scent of strawberries filled his nostrils when he caught a mouthful of soft, auburn hair. She clutched the folds of his jacket until the vertigo receded. Then her heart began to thump, but not from the knock on her head, but because she was pressed against a well muscled man who smelled faintly of drakkar. Miaka inhaled delicately.
"Umm...are you okay now?" She let go reluctantly and stared up at a pair of gorgeous purple eyes.
It was on the tip of her tongue to answer in the affirmative, when sudden inspiration struck.
"No," she replied, lower lip quivering slightly. "No, I'm not okay. I'm all alone and lost in a foreign country. And you you're the only one I can turn to. Please, help me." She put a quaver in her voice and looked up at him through long, velvety lashes, hopeful for a sign that her feminine wiles were having effect.
He looked truly torn. Slowly, Miaka let two artistic tears roll down her cheeks. "Please?"
"Look, I don't have the time or resources to spare messing around with a green recruit. I'm sorry, but you're on your own."
"I'm on my own?!" She killed the waterworks abruptly. "What kind of crap is that? A girl is lost in a strange land and you don't care? It's your duty to help like a good citizen. It's your duty, dammit! Stop running! Stand up and be a man!"
That stopped Tamahome in his tracks. He spun around, filled with righteous wrath.
"How dare you tell me to stand up and be a man? A man gets paid for his work. Pay up or put out!"
"What?!" Miaka screeched, her face turning an unbecoming shade of purple. She jumped on a packing crate and shouted in her best Brittany Spears imitation. "Help, oh help. This man is a slave trader and he's gonna sell me! Help!"
"Slave trader?!"
"Scum! Get away from that girl!"
"Crook! Why are you bothering honest folk like us?!"
"Derelict!"
"Dirt bag!"
"Ball-licking cum eater!"
Everyone went dead silent and stared at Miaka.
"Oops. I meant, you awful, awful man!"
Housewives stood in their doorways; hiding children behind their skirts and throwing rotten fish heads at Tamahome. Attracted by the commotion, men began to pour into the street.
"What's going on?"
"That man's a slaver!"
"Call the guards!"
"Get my crossbow."
"C'mon boys! Let's go get 'im!"
"Holy shit!" He grabbed Miaka and ran from the area as fast as his feet could take him.
"Are you going to help me now?" she asked from where he held her in his arms. "I could start spreading that slaver stuff again, ya know."
"I am not a slave trader!" he panted.
"I know."
He stopped short and dropped her.
"Ow, what was that for, bitch?" Miaka asked, rubbing her aching rump.
"Hmm..... I don't know? Could it possibly have been for calling me a slaver? Why yes, I do believe it was."
"Men get offended at the strangest things."
"What?"
"Are you going to let me come with you or not?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"Fine, you can tag along for a little while, but only because I'm feeling benevolent," Tamahome said, trying (and failing to) muster up a lordly air. It came out cranky instead.
"Yeah! Cool beans, yo!" Miaka jumped up and down excitedly, clapping her hands. He rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed by the scene she was making.
"Are you done? I have to get to work."
"Great." Suddenly Miaka was all business. "What do we do?"
"We?"
"Yeah, I'm your partner."
"Whoa, stop right there." Tamahome held up a hand, forestalling any protest. "You are not my partner. You are my apprentice. Furthermore, you will remain my apprentice until you make your first major bust on your own."
"Oh." Enthusiasm deflated a little, Miaka looked up at him with subdued eyes. "So, as your apprentice, what do I do first?"
"Um...." Tamahome was stumped. This scenario had never really occurred to him. "I know! Wait for a cart that looks like it's coming pretty fast, and then jump in front of it. I'll save you in the nick of time and we can sue for mental distress."
"Ooh, how eeevil. I love it!"
**************************
"Tamahome?" Miaka asked, drawing an exasperated sigh from him. God! Women were like puppies - feed 'em once and they follow you home.
"You're still here?" he asked rudely. The plan had bombed - each and every cart had kept going.
"Try not to let your enthusiasm overwhelm you," she returned dryly. "Anyway, I was just wondering, you know that blonde guy, the who tried to kidnap me? He mentioned a parade before luring me into the alley. Was he making it up or is there really one?"
"How should I - no wait, never mind. I think he meant the procession for the emperor's middle son."
"The emperor's middle son? Why does he get a parade? And how come it isn't for the emperor, or at least his eldest son? I don't understand."
"Obviously," he muttered under his breath, then, with another sigh, began to explain.
"There isn't a parade for the emperor because no one has seen him for as long as I've been in the city. Longer. About eight years ago he and his eldest son, the heir, disappeared. That left his next eldest bastard in charge. No one knows what happened to them for sure, but it's a safe bet they're still alive, since his other son is quite emphatic on the point that he is not emperor; he's just filling in until his father returns."
"Did anyone ask the son what happened to the emperor?" Miaka asked, fascinated in spite of herself.
"He was the first man they asked, but he never tells the same story twice about the emperor's whereabouts." Tamahome started to warm to the subject. "The original version was that he was out contemplating the state of his soul for a certain amount of time, but once the time period had passed, the stories started getting more interesting. One goes that he's off rescuing P.O.W.'s from Vietnam. Another is that he's made it his quest to save all bunnies from their natural predators and then plans to implement the grateful fauna into important governmental positions. Then, there's always the one that some noble peer insulted his flexibility, and he mistook the comment to be referring to his physical condition, rather than mental. In a fit of rage, he supposedly took off, vowing not to return until he could eat with his toes...."
"I've heard that trying to eat with your toes is dangerous," Miaka put in solemnly. "I don't know from first hand experience, mind you, but I heard you can knock yourself out trying."
"Obviously not first hand experience," he agreed blandly. "We're here, Miaka."
The stood before a run-down building that must have been impressive in its heyday. It stood two stories high, a decrepit relic, now only a shadow of its former glory. Its elegant plaster mold was worn into shapelessness by time and the elements now. Cheap paint was peeling off the side of the rickety walls and where the windows weren't cracked, they were made of thick panes of flawed, bubbly glass. A faded sign, showing a naked woman dancing among grapes, hung crookedly over the doorway.
From the inside, shouts of merriment could be heard. Tamahome rapped on the door in three staccato notes. After a long pause, a grate set within it opened.
"Yes?" a voice crackled. Miaka could barely make out a face in the dim red light that illuminated the outside.
"It's Tamahome," he replied. "I have a guest."
The grate shut, and after another long pause, in which Miaka could hear someone fumbling with locks, the door swung open. "Tama! Why didn't you say so? Come in and bring your pretty friend."
The light of the room dazzled Miaka at first, but her vision soon cleared. The first thing she noticed was the lanterns. There was one at every table, it seemed, and at least one customer to occupy them. Men sat drinking ale, either alone or in company. Attractive women flitted about, scanty clothing covered by silken robes that fell to the floor. The light cast by the lanterns shone through the thin cloth, revealing graceful silhouettes that left little to the imagination. She wondered at that, until it occurred to her the effect was deliberate. That was when she realized what kind of establishment this was, precisely.
"This is the common room," Tamahome explained in a murmur, taking her elbow and guiding her to an empty table. "The business quarters are upstairs."
"Eew, you brought me to a brothel! What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"No, no! I live here!"
Miaka surveyed the threadbare state of his wardrobe. "Isn't that a little expensive?" she voiced dubiously.
"No," he repeated earnestly. "I live above here. Besides," he put in an afterthought, "They think I'm gay."
"And why would they think that?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I found a guy who wasn't bashful about it and kissed him in a public area, where news would spread fast. I also make it a point to be seen periodically with notorious male prostitutes."
She could gather from his offhand manner that such relationships didn't carry the stigma that they did in Japan. She started to relax a little, until she recalled his comment from earlier; 'pay up or put out.' If he lived above a bordello, it was quite possible that he was serious... "Well are you?"
"Am I what?" he asked, clearly puzzled.
"Gay."
"Oh. No, I just let them think so. It slashed my rent down to practically nothing, since the madam was sure I wasn't going to be 'sampling the wares.' I get to eat here for free, provided I stand guard duty, three nights a week. There hasn't been a client yet who I can't handle if they get too rowdy."
Hmm....free food, eh? Well, if that wasn't reason to stay with him, what was?
"One problem though; if you're supposed to be gay, what am I doing with you?"
"Oh." He frowned in concentration and snapped his fingers. "I know! You can be my partner's little sister. You know, my partner."
"Once again; what am I doing here?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll just tell them that you're looking into the trade and are staying with me to get a better idea of what it's like."
A long silence prevailed. "Miaka?" Tamahome broke in tentatively. "Miaka, what's the matter?" He looked at her face, which was slowly turning apoplectic. Divining her thoughts, he explained hastily. "It's a perfectly respectable trade you know. It's rated with being, oh say, a musician or an artist. Besides, you won't actually have to serve upstairs."
Her color gradually turned back to more normal shades. "Okay," she agreed brightly.
Tamahome was relieved, and a little puzzled it had been so easy to pacify her. What he had seen of Miaka's temper today had convinced him that it was formidable when roused, and right now, he wanted to go to bed without collecting any more bruises for the day. Bruises he would have earned as sure as the sun rose if his new apprentice had thought he had insulted her.
'My new apprentice,' he thought in wonder. He had never even considered taking one, but here he was. There was just something about her, that infuriating as she was, he couldn't help liking. She was a bright kid, this might even turn out to be an equally profitable venture.
Mind at ease, he leaned back, intent on enjoying the music of their house minstrel, Eden. She wasn't a bad one either and he was just starting to relax, when a thought occurred to him that made him sit up straight.
'Where am I going to put her? I don't have any clean sheets.'
***********************
Miaka woke up the next morning with a ray of sunlight streaming in her face. "Wha -" she asked, rubbing her eyes blearily. Then it all came back to her. She was in Tamahome's flat, the cute, greedy punk she had won an apprenticeship to the day before. Propping herself up on one arm, she surveyed the room that she now lived in.
Tamahome slept on a pallet the floor next to her, arm thrown over his eyes and snoring loudly. Dirty laundry was tossed in all corners over the room, probably waiting to be washed until he had run out of clean outfits. There wasn't much room for walking, and even less for standing. Dishes, with stew from several weeks ago encrusted on them, were in a tottering stack to the side. The sole blanket of the room, a grimy, smelly affair was draped over her shoulders. The floor was almost clean, giving testimony that he, on rare occasions, made some marginal effort to being toward cleanliness. But only marginal. In short, he was a slob. Miaka immediately felt at home.
Rolling out of bed, she pulled on her boots and stomped downstairs to the smell of savory porridge. A dozen women lounging about the table greeted her with cheerful greetings and cries of welcome. Food was pressed into her hands and she was ushered over to the bench. As soon as she was sitting, she was bombarded with questions.
"So your Tamahome's new room mate?"
"Isn't he a sweetie?"
"How did you meet?"
Between mouthfuls, she outlined the story they had decided on.
"Yeah," one girl put in. "He's so sweet that I would have known he was gay even if he hadn't told us."
Remembering what Tamahome had told her the night before, Miaka decided to embellish on his reputation. "Oh yeah, he is definitely the gayest man I've ever met," she agreed emphatically. "Why, yesterday alone, I saw him kiss seven different men. He's really a whore. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she amended quickly, smoothing out their angry expressions into more pleasant ones. "It's not that he's a whore, it's that he's a slut."
Just then, Tamahome came down. "You ready, Miaka?" he asked gruffly.
"Yep! See ya later girls." Bounding to her feet, she followed him out into the early morning light.
"So, what's first, Boss?"
"First we go to the market area and scout any prosperous looking customers."
"What do we sell?"
"Anything," he returned promptly. "But for now, it's more a question of what these fine folk can give us."
"Um, are we talking like pick-pocketing?"
"Pretty much," he agreed. "In the mean while, anything you want to know?"
"Yeah, what in great good god's name is that?!" Miaka had jumped up on his back before he even had time to turn.
"What?" He looked at the animal she was pointing at in bafflement. "That's a horse."
"But, but - it has tusks!"
"Yeah. Your point..." his voice trailed off.
"It has tusks," she repeated again slowly.
"All horses do."
"What about the whole girls love ponies image?"
Tamahome looked at her, amazement painted clearly on his features. "Are you crazy? I wouldn't let a girl near a bloodthirsty, carnivorous animal like that."
"Whatever."
Gradually the conversation turned to a more neutral ground; politics.
"Wait, let me get this straight. There are more noble women, yet it's the men that rule?"
"Yeah," Tamahome said with a shrug. "I know it's strange, but nobility has always been set in tradition. Out here on the streets it's equal, but in the higher classes things get more restricting. Really, the nobility has a lot of strange beliefs the rest of don't share. We might as well be different species for all we have in common."
"Like what?" Their convoluted social structure was fascinating.
"Well, take the prostitution thing. It's considered an honest trade out here and a legitimate way to improve your status, but try to suggest that a lady do that...sit back and watch the fireworks. Then there's more. Out here, a man makes his reputation by his skill and merit, but up they're proper birth is all that matters."
"What's considered the proper birth?"
"In wedlock, for one. You have to have two parents of the same station - I pity the man who tries to marry above his class. Really, the only reason this prince is keeping the throne is because he's so firm on the point that he doesn't want to be emperor. If he tried to make the situation permanent, he'd probably be hauled up to trial on some trumped up charge and undergo a slow and painful execution. It'd serve as a warning to those who would try to rise above their birth. If the affair wasn't public, then tickets would probably sold to an exclusive audience of those willing to blow a small fortune on their sick little amusements."
Miaka shivered. A cloud suddenly seemed to have come between her and the warmth of the sun. "Why don't you tell me more of those emperor stories," she suggested.
Brightening visibly, Tamahome launched into another; eager to share his hobby with one that had a willing ear.
"There's always the one that he's lining the royal coffers with illegal bootlegging..."
**************************
Tamahome saw how badly he had disturbed Miaka and kept the conversation to cheerful topics, so not to upset her further. Soon, he had her in tears from laughter, former worries forgotten. It seemed he couldn't recall a time when she hadn't been by his side, tagging along in his marketing ventures. She was a natural thief if he had ever saw one. Somehow, that didn't surprise him.
"What do you think happened to the emperor, Tamahome?"
"Common sentiment on the street is that he ran away. A little before he left, Kutou, the neighboring empire started making hostile advances toward Konan. Suzaku knows that he wasn't exactly renown for his stalwart courage." He edged closer to a particularly heavy looking purse.
"Where's Konan?"
He turned to her in shock, purse forgotten. "This is Konan, you idiot. This empire. Where did you think you were?"
"I don't know," she said with a helpless shrug. "That's why I needed your help. You see, I'm not here by choice." She sat down on a crate, and in a faltering voice poured out her story.
"I was sitting at my computer-"
"What's a computer?"
"It's a machine where you can go on the Internet through."
"What's the Internet?"
"It's a place where everyone knows each other, but never meet." A long, confused silence ensued.
"What?"
"Never mind. Well, anyway, I was on the Internet and I misspelled the topic I was looking for - "
"Wait, you can write?" A calculating gleam entered Tama's eyes, as another set of marketable skills came into his already impressive repertoire.
"Yeah. Well anyway, I was looking at a website - "
"What's a website? Some kind of trap set by a spider monster?"
"Uh, yeah."
"That's pretty cool." It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, when she remembered the horses. Suddenly she didn't want to know.
"Well anyway, a gold light came out of the monitor-"
"What's a monitor?"
"Shut up and let me finish!" she shouted. He fell into a temporary, pouty silence. "Thank you. Now, as I was saying, a gold light came from the monitor, and the next thing I knew, I was in the clearing where you found me."
"Wow. That's pretty messed up."
"You insensitive jerk!" Miaka barely had the heart to punch him, she was so upset. "I'll never see Yui or Suzuno or Takiko again. I'll never get yelled at by my landlord for rent being three weeks late. I'll never have a shower or a soda again!"
"What's soda?"
"Why you -" Her fist's descent on Tamahome's head was stopped midair. "Where'd you get that ring?" she asked with interest. He peeked out from behind his arms that he had raised to fend off her blows.
"What?"
"The ring on your finger," she repeated impatiently.
"This?" A golden band glittered on his ring finger. "They're issued by the empire. Every man has one."
"Like a tagging system?"
"I guess so. What's a shower?"
She raised a fist again, only to be forestalled once again by Tamahome's deft questioning. "Are you hungry?"
"Whoa. It's like you're reading my mind."
"Cuz there's so much there to read," he muttered.
"What was that?" she asked sweetly.
"Uh, how's Cajun?"
***************************
Miaka awoke every morning with anticipation now. She was eager to see what the day would bring at Tamahome's side. Every day, she learned something new.
"Today, I will teach you about the fine art of mugging people," her mentor said grandiosely. "First, you choose a likely quarry in an abandoned place."
So that was how they had spent the last three hours, haunting alleys and waiting for a profitable subject to pass their way. Now, finally, one had come into view.
Tamahome put on a skier's mask and handed one to Miaka. "This is one of the stupid young lords who think they are immune to the accidents that befall so many of his kind. Look, he thinks he's incognito as a commoner, but his clothing is much too fine, not to mention the fact that he still hasn't dropped the insufferable arrogance common to his breed. You can practically see worthless bum written across his face. More importantly to us, you can see rich, worthless bum written on his face. Watch me."
Tamahome slid across the cracked walls, dark clothing blending in perfectly with the shadows. Following suit, Miaka watched in admiration as he came up behind the man and hit him on the back of the head with a brick. Extracting rope from somewhere, Tamahome trussed him up like a pig and began to search him for valuables. The man was made of sterner stuff than he had expected though, for halfway through, he woke up.
"Face me like a man!" he bellowed angrily. "I could kill you both with one hand tied behind my back!"
"Doubtful," Tamahome said cheerfully. "But in the off chance that you could, I took the liberty of tying both of your hands behind your back, as well as your feet together."
His face grew apoplectic. "Have you no honor?!"
"You know," he replied in a conversational tone, "Honor is a funny word. Some would say that disobeying your father and sneaking off to go drink with your buddies in a common tavern is dishonorable. After all, doesn't Confucius stress familial piety?" He cut off the man's purse and hefted it thoughtfully in his hand as he spoke. "Now, others may say that robbing a spoiled little well-born brat of his spending money is dishonorable, but me, well I prefer to think of it as a favor to society, a redistribution of resources, if you will. And though I may sit in this alley, stealing all of the worldly possessions you have on you, I never disobeyed my daddy. And which one of is being robbed, hmm? In fact, if you think about it, I'm doing you a favor. Having no cash, you can't possibly go out drinking or whoring or whatever you were planning on doing that was probably expressly against parental permission. So I'm saving you from carrying a sin on your conscience. You should thank me."
"Give me my sword! I'll cut you all to pieces! I'll kill you -"
"With one hand tied behind your back, yes we know," Miaka said with a sigh. "I assure you, if either of us wanted to face you like a man, we would have done so by now. Feel free to speak up if you have any original thoughts."
He gaped at her, looking for all the world like a stranded fish. Opening his mouth, he let out a roar of sheer rage.
"Gag him," Tamahome ordered curtly. "Someone might notice." He paused. "Wait, do you know how to gag someone?"
She bestowed on him a withering look. "Of course I know how to gag someone. I've babysat before."
"Good. Now you mentioned a sword, yes? That'll fetch a pretty penny at the pawn shop."
Only when they had searched him over for the third time was Tamahome satisfied that he hadn't missed anything.
"You did good, kid," he said to Miaka. Turning to their captive, he extended a hand and shook his tied one firmly. "Thank you sir, it was a pleasure doing business. If you tell anyone that you were mugged sneaking out to go whoring, you'll be like a true incompetent ass, so I advise against it. I'll be taking back my ropes for future use, but first, I'm sure you'll understand if we don't let you stay awake for that event. Please, feel free to come back this way anytime." Lifting a heavy board, he brought it back down again on the man's head.
"And that, was a mugging."
*********************
"Yeah, that was fun," Miaka said gleefully. "Let's do it again!"
"Sure, but later. I'm starving." Tamahome stretched and started strolling out toward the common area. "Beating people up and robbing them always makes me hungry."
Never adverse to the thought of food, Miaka fell in stride beside him. "Tamahome, what makes you different from a bandit?"
He stopped short and by the expression he wore, Miaka could tell she had hit upon a sore spot. "I'm different from a bandit because bandits are stupid," he said fiercely. "They ambush people, beat them up and take their money. I ambush them; beat them up and take their money while wearing a ski mask. They could never stroll into town without being lynched up by everyone they've ever mugged. I, on the other hand, can go anywhere with impunity.
"They all live in one place, which makes them easier to hunt down and wipe out. If I were to form a crime organization like that, I would keep everyone separate, so if they found and killed one, all the other members would be safe.
"Bandits are dirty. Bandits are hicks. Bandits smell. But you know what the worst thing about bandits is? Women aren't allowed. It's an all boy's club."
"Why Tama, that's very open minded of -"
"Who's going to cook and clean for them? Their home must be a sty," he continued, oblivious to the respect he had almost won.
"Strange words, coming from you," she said dryly, thinking back on their shared home.
"Bandits are worse than me," he said positively.
"Let's get some food."
*********************
Tamahome rolled over on his stomach and looked at the clock. It was one in the morning and more than his stiffening bruises were keeping him awake. He had earned them in a scuffle the previous day and playing the affair over in his mind, he was troubled.
"Miaka?" he whispered softly. "Are you awake?"
She rolled over on her side and met his eyes. "Yeah Tamahome?"
"There's something I have to tell you that I've never told anyone else before, ever."
Her heart sped up and rose to her throat. 'He's going to tell me he loves me,' she thought joyfully. 'He's going to tell me he can't live without me and then he's going to sweep me up in his well muscled arms and -'
"I think I'm a sadist."
"What?"
"I think I'm a sadist," he repeated patiently. "Today, when we were fighting, I found myself...enjoying it."
"That's it?"
"What did you think I was going to say?" He sounded honestly puzzled.
"I'm going back to sleep."
"No, I really want to know."
"Goodnight Tamahome."
*********************
The next lesson was on robbery of the snatch and run style.
On the way to the ever popular market, several women called their young sons inside and averted their faces from Tamahome. After the fifth such incident, he was puzzled and annoyed. He was pretty sure Miaka was involved somehow, though. Then, in a flash of insight, the sly, sidelong glances from the girls back at the brothel fell into place.
"Miaka," he asked mildly. "What did you tell them?"
"Who?"
"You know who."
"No?"
"Did you tell everyone I was promiscuous?"
"I thought your reputation could use a little polishing."
"Bad girl. Promise not to do it again."
A stranger saved Miaka from making any promises she might actually have to keep. He pulled on Tamahome's sleeve.
"Hey, aren't you that slaver?"
"Uh, no. No I'm not."
He grabbed Miaka's arm and sped his walk up to a trot.
Turning around, she caught the man's eye and started mouthing noticeably, "Yes he is. Help me."
"Guards!"
"Holy crap!" They made it to the market at a run. Panting, Tamahome pointed out her target - a little old lady's purse.
"Her?" Miaka asked, aghast. "But she's like eighty. That could be her entire life's savings."
"It's also your supper." Before he had time to blink, Miaka had punched the lady, and was running away clutching the purse triumphantly, shouting, "You don't need to eat anymore! You're gonna die soon anyway!"
Tamahome surveyed the fruits of her labor with interest.
"Anything good?" She wondered idly.
"Umm.... crumpled tissues...old, dusty Lifesavers.... and two gold coins! Good job!"
"Can I have the Lifesavers?"
***************************
"Tamahome, do I have any clean underwear out there?" Miaka called from behind the changing screen. He looked up briefly from the pile of coins he was counting.
"Dunno and I refuse to do the smell test for any that's not mine."
"Spoilsport," she muttered. Several minutes later, she crawled out, fully clothed. "Tamahome, how come I don't get any of the profits?"
"You don't get any of my profits cuz you're my 'prentice," he explained without looking up. "You're my 'prentice til -"
"I make my first big bust on my own, yeah I got that. I've been living with you six months now. What do you say I try today?"
"Today?" He looked up, interest caught. "What do you have in mind? It'll have to be big, ya know -" his tone turned warning. "I won't settle for anything less."
Miaka simply gave a mysterious smile. "You'll see. And trust me - it'll be big enough even for you." Standing up abruptly, she grabbed his coat and bounded toward the door. "C'mon. I feel the need to stretch my legs."
Miffed, he followed.
******************
It was a beautiful day out. The sun was bright and shining, a pleasant breeze stirred, and the scent of money was in the air. Of course, the scent of money was always in the air, provided you had the right kind of nose for it. A nose like Tamahome's and like the one Miaka was soon going to prove to him she also had.
Linking her arm casually in his, she strolled to the center square. Cheerfully whistling a strain of "Wanted Dead Or Alive" by Bon Jovi, she kept her eyes peeled for the first sight of the emperor's parade.
It was hard to miss. Colorful, not to say tacky, banners shouted royal presence from a mile away. Acrobats and jugglers preceded the actual emperor, and by Miaka's way of thinking, provided the better show. Huge elephants that looked like the ones she was familiar with cleared the crowd. A hundred guards, all in dress uniform, surrounded and carried the emperor's palanquin, a large gaudy affair decorated entirely in gold. The procession occurred at the beginning of every month to pacify the need for pomp of...someone.
Releasing her grip on Tamahome's arm, she slipped off into the crowd and started edging closer to the emperor. Warily eyeing over the guards, she counted silently to ten. Then she struck. Flying from guard to big fat guard, she kicked out all of their knees. As they fell to the ground, she charged the palanquin with a flying leap. Remembering everything she had ever learned in long jump during track, she tucked her legs up, grabbed anything she could as she went hurtling through, and landed safely on her feet.
Not waiting to see the reaction, she sprinted off to the back streets she was so at home with now and soon lost them. Blood was pounding in her ears and adrenaline surged through her body. At the sound of footsteps she pivoted, knife held ready, but there was no need; it was only Tamahome.
"Dear god, I hope that was worth it. Are you crazy? What did you get?" Questions flew out of his mouth as fast as he could find air to utter them.
She held up her richly gleaming prize. It was the emperor's crown.
Tamahome stared, dumbfounded. Silently he offered his hand.
"Welcome aboard partner."
The dull glow of the computer, normally all but invisible, stood out like a beacon in the velvety blackness of the night. Soft light radiating from the monitor gave an ethereal cast to its user's perky features. Large green eyes, usually brimming with emotion, grew lifeless with each monotonous click of the mouse. Her blank expression gave testimony that she had fallen prey to the kind of mindlessness only to be found in those who surfed the Web at three in the morning.
Stretching sinuously, waves of reddish-brown hair spilled over Miaka Yuuki's upraised arms. She stood abruptly, and announced to the empty room, "My butt has gone numb." Undeterred by the lack of response, she continued. "I think a Sprite would be nice right now. Yes, Miaka," she agreed, "A Sprite would be nice. But first..."
She highlighted the entry box for Search, and typed in quickly Santana. With luck, it would be able to locate some sites by the time she had completed the brief journey to her kitchen and back. The Internet was usually less crowded at night, making it faster to find something.
She tromped back to her computer, perversely enjoying the noise that the thick soles of her combat boots produced. Obnoxious was not the word to describe the couple that lived beneath her. If she could disturb their rest even a little, she would consider the night well spent.
A drop of crimson on her keyboard caused Miaka to look at her hand in bemusement. Her index finger was bleeding profusely from a shallow gash. She stared at it quizzically for a moment, and then shrugged. Sticking it into her mouth, she decided that she must have cut it on the can of soda.
Settling back in front of her computer, she looked at the sites listed and groaned. She had accidentally typed "Suzaku" instead of Santana.
"Shoot. Maybe the fact that I failed every spelling test I ever took in elementary school actually meant something...Nah. That would have made my teachers right and that's just too weird to even consider."
Her mouse was poised to click on Home, when something caught her eye. Under a Website titled "The Four Gods," was a description. It read;
"Adventure with a beautiful young heroine, many gorgeous men, and as much free food as you can eat."
Interest immediately piqued, Miaka highlighted the site. What were the chances of her two favorite things in the world being listed? She didn't really care about the "beautiful young heroine" part. After all, if she did, the "many gorgeous men" wouldn't have held much appeal, now would it?
There wasn't any time for thoughts beyond that not even that it was downloading unnaturally fast, before a scarlet light filled her eyes and a dull roar her ears. She gave a wordless scream of terror.
"Not my hard drive!" came the anguished wail.
When the light cleared she blinked. She was standing in an open clearing, inhabited by rocks, lizards, and a few scruffy bushes. Also - a few equally unattractive and scruffy bandits.
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she muttered. The wisecrack helped not at all.
She whirled in shock as a hand seized her arm roughly. Facing her were five ill-matched men with swords. Each of them was twice her height and as heavily muscled as a bear. She could have cared less. Galvanized into action by the rudeness of the creep, she punched - a friendly greeting from her home city of Tokyo. Miaka had been in enough street fights that the return blow wasn't unexpected. What was unexpected was its force. It sent her sprawling, dazed to the ground. Closing her eyes, she waited for a succeeding blow that never came. Cracking an eyelid open tentatively, she saw the five bandits facing one lone black haired hunk.
"My arm! My arm! Get him!" The leader of the band, who had previously been descending on Miaka, was clutching his abused appendage from the painful treatment it had received at the hand of the newcomer.
The four men followed the orders of their indisposed leader, rushing the man and shouting oaths that made even Miaka blush. From her prone position on the ground, she watched the man fight with awe. Flowing like water from one opponent to another, her savior quickly took them down. Bruised, battered, and beaten, her assailants just scraped up the energy to turn tail and run.
"I didn't really need your help," she lied blithely, "But thanks anyway." The man turned to look at her. It was then that she saw the blazing gold symbol of the demon on his forehead.
He gave an incredulous snort. "What do you mean, you didn't need my help?" he demanded. "Never mind that. Thanks are all very well and good, but you know what's better? Money." He held out his hand expectantly before her.
"I don't know if I have any..." Miaka began searching her pockets. It proved fruitless.
"Nope, sorry. I must have left my wallet at home."
The man looked disgusted and turned away. "Great. I saved a miser." Disdain clear, he started to walk.
"Wait! I'm lost! Tell me where I am!"
"Sorry, no can do," he replied maliciously. "I've gotta go - poor folk bug me."
"Hey, get back here you big jerk!" Belatedly, she staggered to her feet and began to chase after him, but it was too late. He was gone.
"Oh no you don't. I'm not letting you get away that easily," she swore.
Hitching a ride on the back of a hay wagon, Miaka surveyed the surrounding land as she passed. Rolling green hills and sparkling blue streams were all she could see. It was a startling contrast to the barren area she had just left. To the right, a pristine city rose out of the tall grass. Miaka gasped, she had never seen anything like it. After all, in her experience, a pristine city was practically an oxymoron. Astonishment was quickly taken over by satisfaction as she spied the man.
"Got you now buddy. Thanks for the ride, mister!" Hopping off the back, Miaka ran toward the city, leaving behind a very confused wagon driver.
But upon arrival in the city, she realized she was lost and could no longer see the man.
"Shit! I've lost him! What will I do now? I'm lost in a foreign city, with no food or shelter. I'll shrivel up and die! Wild dogs will eat me, I'll get mumps, and, and..... mm, teriyaki beef." Her melodramatic tirade was cut off by the scent of food sold in the stall next to her.
"Excuse me, but have you seen a good looking man with the symbol of a demon on his forehead?" Miaka passed a few coins to the vendor as he handed her some food.
"No, but you can call me good looking any time." Miaka surveyed him carefully. He was dirty, sporting three-day-old stubble and acne scars from his youth that had never quite cleared up.
"If it's all the same, I think not."
"Huh?" He looked down, examining the coins. "Hey! This isn't real money!" Miaka ran off shouting, "Stuff it! I've had enough trouble for today!"
After getting far enough away, Miaka sat on a crate in a side alley to contemplate her next course of action.
"What do I do now? I'm all alone, in a strange world, and the guy with demon symbol is missing. If only there was some cute guy radar. If only I were back home!" As she was thinking aloud, an attractive blonde man approached her and tapped her lightly on the back, causing her to jump down from where she had been sitting.
"Excuse me, miss, but I can't help but notice that you're new around here. Would you like to go to the parade with me?"
"Parade? What parade?" she questioned. Then her thoughts intruded in a flash.
'Am I being picked up? Have I crafted myself into the woman of every man's dreams?'
Coyly, but as not to appear shy, Miaka grabbed the guy by his shirt. "I'd love to, but I'm looking for someone," she answered promptly. The man smiled winningly at her.
"The guy with the demon symbol, right? He's a friend of mine."
"Really? Then what's his name?" she asked suspiciously.
"Jack," he responded, so promptly that all of her fears were assuaged.
"Great! Can I meet him?" At the man's nod, Miaka followed the friendly stranger, happily unaware of any impending danger.
Some time later, the man stopped. She found herself in an abandoned alley, far from the man square. Movement in the shadows revealed half starved rats, whose red eyes gleamed ferally. Doors to deserted buildings waved desolately to her, their thin planks making thumping sounds as they hit the cracked mortar of decrepit walls. From these run-down shacks came a group of disreputable looking men. Come to think of it, that was the only sort of men she seemed to be meeting today... Miaka's guide smiled at her again, this time in a menacing, dangerous fashion.
"We're here."
"Um.... where's here?" she asked nervously, hoping she was missing something. A niggling suspicion was growing that she had been duped. The stench of stale urine brought back memories of the neighborhood she had grown up in. A neighborhood that had boasted more than its fair share of robberies, gang wars, drug deals, muggings, and otherwise unpleasant incidents. Though the argument could be made that was only to be expected in a ghetto, it didn't mean that she had enjoyed the situation.
The next words of the men confirmed her fears.
"Look at her clothes," one man said.
"Clothes? Look at those legs. It should be a crime to have ones that nice," another man in blue put in.
"Legs are all very nice, but look at those breasts! Is it true women traveling alone are looking for excitement?" A third man grabbed her as he asked. She punched him, but he just grinned and shrugged it off. Miaka was now backed against a wall with four men leering at her.
"Great. A gang of thugs in Ancient...wherever. I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book," Miaka groaned, crushed by her stupidity. Briefly, she found herself wishing her posse was there; Yui, Takiko, and Suzuno. No one had ever bothered the four girls more than once. Also, right about now, she could really use the back up.
"All right," she said, turning to face the toughs with sudden authority. "You picked the wrong woman to mess with. Another time, I might have let you off with a mere warning, but it hasn't been my day." Maybe bluffing would work... "Now I'm pissed, so you're going to pay!"
Hmm. They weren't leaving, nor did they look particularly intimidated. That wasn't good.
"Oh, I'm quaking," one said in a mocking falsetto. "What's one little girl like you going to do to four big, strong men like us, all alone?"
"All alone..." Her eyes widened and took on an unholy gleam. "That's right, I'm all alone in a strange city, possibly in another world. So that means..." She pushed her sleeves up and braced herself against the wall, "No police and no assault records!"
"Huh?"
"Okay punks! You had your chance. Do you see this vaccination mark? In the name of heaven, it will punish you! Now for the battle cry; embrace death!" With her ferocious cry echoing off the walls, Miaka launched herself at the men.
*************************
"Suzaku's flaming tail," Tamahome swore to himself, half in disbelief, half in admiration, "That girl is crazy!"
He watched the fight from the top of the wall he was casually perched on. If things got too bad, he would lend her a hand, of course - but as matters stood, he was interested in seeing how things worked out. He had never seen fighting like hers, and was willing to bet the gold he didn't have that neither had they. Come to think of it, he had never seen a girl fight, period. Most women could hire men to do it for them.
That was hardly the only strange thing about her either. Instead of a skirt, she wore pants, with wide legs, cut out of some cloth he had never seen. The epithets she shouted as the men fell to her made his ears burn, and he was only half sure what they meant. What was a goat and how exactly did one go about...mating with one?
"Huh. That was surprisingly easy," the girl said to herself, dusting off her hands as the last man collapsed. "I expected more of a fight. Well, whatever."
As she bent down to tie her shoe, the hand of one of the fallen men snaked out and seized her ankle. She pivoted, wearing an expression of shock as he jerked her feet out from underneath her.
Tamahome winced at her head's collision with a rock that left her stunned and helpless. Sympathy turned to fury as he saw what the man had in mind.
Grabbing a rock from nearby, he hurled it at the man's head. Once he was certain he had gotten the man's attention, he stood, holding another. "Five men," he said coldly, punctuating each word with the slap of flesh on stone as he tossed and caught the rock, again and again. "Five men to handle one little girl? Why don't we make the odds more even?" He snatched the rock from midair and attacked.
As they had many times in the past, man after man went down beneath his superior strength. Tamahome could feel the sign of the demon blazing on his forehead, giving him power and fueling his rage by serving to remind him of his difference.
Only when the last man had gone did he turn to face the girl. She took his proffered arm with a look of confusion as he hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.
"Are you all right?" he asked gently.
"Um, yeah. Thanks for saving me again." She blinked several times, eyes gaining clarity. Quit calmly, she drew back her fist and punched him in the stomach. "For future reference, I'm not a little girl, fruitcake. I'm twenty years old."
Tamahome gaped at her. "Who are you?" he blurted out disbelievingly.
"Miaka," she beamed. "And what's your name, Mr. Black-haired-hunk-with-a- demon-symbol? I've been looking for you all over, ya know."
"I know. And my name's Tamahome. Now that you've found me, what do you want?"
She stared at him, clearly at a loss.
"That's what I thought. I don't suppose you've gotten any richer since last time? No? I didn't think so. Well, since you don't need me for anything, I'll just be going." He pulled loose from her grip and started sauntering away casually.
"No wait - oh!"
Tamahome turned just in time to catch her as her knees buckled. The delicate scent of strawberries filled his nostrils when he caught a mouthful of soft, auburn hair. She clutched the folds of his jacket until the vertigo receded. Then her heart began to thump, but not from the knock on her head, but because she was pressed against a well muscled man who smelled faintly of drakkar. Miaka inhaled delicately.
"Umm...are you okay now?" She let go reluctantly and stared up at a pair of gorgeous purple eyes.
It was on the tip of her tongue to answer in the affirmative, when sudden inspiration struck.
"No," she replied, lower lip quivering slightly. "No, I'm not okay. I'm all alone and lost in a foreign country. And you you're the only one I can turn to. Please, help me." She put a quaver in her voice and looked up at him through long, velvety lashes, hopeful for a sign that her feminine wiles were having effect.
He looked truly torn. Slowly, Miaka let two artistic tears roll down her cheeks. "Please?"
"Look, I don't have the time or resources to spare messing around with a green recruit. I'm sorry, but you're on your own."
"I'm on my own?!" She killed the waterworks abruptly. "What kind of crap is that? A girl is lost in a strange land and you don't care? It's your duty to help like a good citizen. It's your duty, dammit! Stop running! Stand up and be a man!"
That stopped Tamahome in his tracks. He spun around, filled with righteous wrath.
"How dare you tell me to stand up and be a man? A man gets paid for his work. Pay up or put out!"
"What?!" Miaka screeched, her face turning an unbecoming shade of purple. She jumped on a packing crate and shouted in her best Brittany Spears imitation. "Help, oh help. This man is a slave trader and he's gonna sell me! Help!"
"Slave trader?!"
"Scum! Get away from that girl!"
"Crook! Why are you bothering honest folk like us?!"
"Derelict!"
"Dirt bag!"
"Ball-licking cum eater!"
Everyone went dead silent and stared at Miaka.
"Oops. I meant, you awful, awful man!"
Housewives stood in their doorways; hiding children behind their skirts and throwing rotten fish heads at Tamahome. Attracted by the commotion, men began to pour into the street.
"What's going on?"
"That man's a slaver!"
"Call the guards!"
"Get my crossbow."
"C'mon boys! Let's go get 'im!"
"Holy shit!" He grabbed Miaka and ran from the area as fast as his feet could take him.
"Are you going to help me now?" she asked from where he held her in his arms. "I could start spreading that slaver stuff again, ya know."
"I am not a slave trader!" he panted.
"I know."
He stopped short and dropped her.
"Ow, what was that for, bitch?" Miaka asked, rubbing her aching rump.
"Hmm..... I don't know? Could it possibly have been for calling me a slaver? Why yes, I do believe it was."
"Men get offended at the strangest things."
"What?"
"Are you going to let me come with you or not?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"Fine, you can tag along for a little while, but only because I'm feeling benevolent," Tamahome said, trying (and failing to) muster up a lordly air. It came out cranky instead.
"Yeah! Cool beans, yo!" Miaka jumped up and down excitedly, clapping her hands. He rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed by the scene she was making.
"Are you done? I have to get to work."
"Great." Suddenly Miaka was all business. "What do we do?"
"We?"
"Yeah, I'm your partner."
"Whoa, stop right there." Tamahome held up a hand, forestalling any protest. "You are not my partner. You are my apprentice. Furthermore, you will remain my apprentice until you make your first major bust on your own."
"Oh." Enthusiasm deflated a little, Miaka looked up at him with subdued eyes. "So, as your apprentice, what do I do first?"
"Um...." Tamahome was stumped. This scenario had never really occurred to him. "I know! Wait for a cart that looks like it's coming pretty fast, and then jump in front of it. I'll save you in the nick of time and we can sue for mental distress."
"Ooh, how eeevil. I love it!"
**************************
"Tamahome?" Miaka asked, drawing an exasperated sigh from him. God! Women were like puppies - feed 'em once and they follow you home.
"You're still here?" he asked rudely. The plan had bombed - each and every cart had kept going.
"Try not to let your enthusiasm overwhelm you," she returned dryly. "Anyway, I was just wondering, you know that blonde guy, the who tried to kidnap me? He mentioned a parade before luring me into the alley. Was he making it up or is there really one?"
"How should I - no wait, never mind. I think he meant the procession for the emperor's middle son."
"The emperor's middle son? Why does he get a parade? And how come it isn't for the emperor, or at least his eldest son? I don't understand."
"Obviously," he muttered under his breath, then, with another sigh, began to explain.
"There isn't a parade for the emperor because no one has seen him for as long as I've been in the city. Longer. About eight years ago he and his eldest son, the heir, disappeared. That left his next eldest bastard in charge. No one knows what happened to them for sure, but it's a safe bet they're still alive, since his other son is quite emphatic on the point that he is not emperor; he's just filling in until his father returns."
"Did anyone ask the son what happened to the emperor?" Miaka asked, fascinated in spite of herself.
"He was the first man they asked, but he never tells the same story twice about the emperor's whereabouts." Tamahome started to warm to the subject. "The original version was that he was out contemplating the state of his soul for a certain amount of time, but once the time period had passed, the stories started getting more interesting. One goes that he's off rescuing P.O.W.'s from Vietnam. Another is that he's made it his quest to save all bunnies from their natural predators and then plans to implement the grateful fauna into important governmental positions. Then, there's always the one that some noble peer insulted his flexibility, and he mistook the comment to be referring to his physical condition, rather than mental. In a fit of rage, he supposedly took off, vowing not to return until he could eat with his toes...."
"I've heard that trying to eat with your toes is dangerous," Miaka put in solemnly. "I don't know from first hand experience, mind you, but I heard you can knock yourself out trying."
"Obviously not first hand experience," he agreed blandly. "We're here, Miaka."
The stood before a run-down building that must have been impressive in its heyday. It stood two stories high, a decrepit relic, now only a shadow of its former glory. Its elegant plaster mold was worn into shapelessness by time and the elements now. Cheap paint was peeling off the side of the rickety walls and where the windows weren't cracked, they were made of thick panes of flawed, bubbly glass. A faded sign, showing a naked woman dancing among grapes, hung crookedly over the doorway.
From the inside, shouts of merriment could be heard. Tamahome rapped on the door in three staccato notes. After a long pause, a grate set within it opened.
"Yes?" a voice crackled. Miaka could barely make out a face in the dim red light that illuminated the outside.
"It's Tamahome," he replied. "I have a guest."
The grate shut, and after another long pause, in which Miaka could hear someone fumbling with locks, the door swung open. "Tama! Why didn't you say so? Come in and bring your pretty friend."
The light of the room dazzled Miaka at first, but her vision soon cleared. The first thing she noticed was the lanterns. There was one at every table, it seemed, and at least one customer to occupy them. Men sat drinking ale, either alone or in company. Attractive women flitted about, scanty clothing covered by silken robes that fell to the floor. The light cast by the lanterns shone through the thin cloth, revealing graceful silhouettes that left little to the imagination. She wondered at that, until it occurred to her the effect was deliberate. That was when she realized what kind of establishment this was, precisely.
"This is the common room," Tamahome explained in a murmur, taking her elbow and guiding her to an empty table. "The business quarters are upstairs."
"Eew, you brought me to a brothel! What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"No, no! I live here!"
Miaka surveyed the threadbare state of his wardrobe. "Isn't that a little expensive?" she voiced dubiously.
"No," he repeated earnestly. "I live above here. Besides," he put in an afterthought, "They think I'm gay."
"And why would they think that?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I found a guy who wasn't bashful about it and kissed him in a public area, where news would spread fast. I also make it a point to be seen periodically with notorious male prostitutes."
She could gather from his offhand manner that such relationships didn't carry the stigma that they did in Japan. She started to relax a little, until she recalled his comment from earlier; 'pay up or put out.' If he lived above a bordello, it was quite possible that he was serious... "Well are you?"
"Am I what?" he asked, clearly puzzled.
"Gay."
"Oh. No, I just let them think so. It slashed my rent down to practically nothing, since the madam was sure I wasn't going to be 'sampling the wares.' I get to eat here for free, provided I stand guard duty, three nights a week. There hasn't been a client yet who I can't handle if they get too rowdy."
Hmm....free food, eh? Well, if that wasn't reason to stay with him, what was?
"One problem though; if you're supposed to be gay, what am I doing with you?"
"Oh." He frowned in concentration and snapped his fingers. "I know! You can be my partner's little sister. You know, my partner."
"Once again; what am I doing here?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll just tell them that you're looking into the trade and are staying with me to get a better idea of what it's like."
A long silence prevailed. "Miaka?" Tamahome broke in tentatively. "Miaka, what's the matter?" He looked at her face, which was slowly turning apoplectic. Divining her thoughts, he explained hastily. "It's a perfectly respectable trade you know. It's rated with being, oh say, a musician or an artist. Besides, you won't actually have to serve upstairs."
Her color gradually turned back to more normal shades. "Okay," she agreed brightly.
Tamahome was relieved, and a little puzzled it had been so easy to pacify her. What he had seen of Miaka's temper today had convinced him that it was formidable when roused, and right now, he wanted to go to bed without collecting any more bruises for the day. Bruises he would have earned as sure as the sun rose if his new apprentice had thought he had insulted her.
'My new apprentice,' he thought in wonder. He had never even considered taking one, but here he was. There was just something about her, that infuriating as she was, he couldn't help liking. She was a bright kid, this might even turn out to be an equally profitable venture.
Mind at ease, he leaned back, intent on enjoying the music of their house minstrel, Eden. She wasn't a bad one either and he was just starting to relax, when a thought occurred to him that made him sit up straight.
'Where am I going to put her? I don't have any clean sheets.'
***********************
Miaka woke up the next morning with a ray of sunlight streaming in her face. "Wha -" she asked, rubbing her eyes blearily. Then it all came back to her. She was in Tamahome's flat, the cute, greedy punk she had won an apprenticeship to the day before. Propping herself up on one arm, she surveyed the room that she now lived in.
Tamahome slept on a pallet the floor next to her, arm thrown over his eyes and snoring loudly. Dirty laundry was tossed in all corners over the room, probably waiting to be washed until he had run out of clean outfits. There wasn't much room for walking, and even less for standing. Dishes, with stew from several weeks ago encrusted on them, were in a tottering stack to the side. The sole blanket of the room, a grimy, smelly affair was draped over her shoulders. The floor was almost clean, giving testimony that he, on rare occasions, made some marginal effort to being toward cleanliness. But only marginal. In short, he was a slob. Miaka immediately felt at home.
Rolling out of bed, she pulled on her boots and stomped downstairs to the smell of savory porridge. A dozen women lounging about the table greeted her with cheerful greetings and cries of welcome. Food was pressed into her hands and she was ushered over to the bench. As soon as she was sitting, she was bombarded with questions.
"So your Tamahome's new room mate?"
"Isn't he a sweetie?"
"How did you meet?"
Between mouthfuls, she outlined the story they had decided on.
"Yeah," one girl put in. "He's so sweet that I would have known he was gay even if he hadn't told us."
Remembering what Tamahome had told her the night before, Miaka decided to embellish on his reputation. "Oh yeah, he is definitely the gayest man I've ever met," she agreed emphatically. "Why, yesterday alone, I saw him kiss seven different men. He's really a whore. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she amended quickly, smoothing out their angry expressions into more pleasant ones. "It's not that he's a whore, it's that he's a slut."
Just then, Tamahome came down. "You ready, Miaka?" he asked gruffly.
"Yep! See ya later girls." Bounding to her feet, she followed him out into the early morning light.
"So, what's first, Boss?"
"First we go to the market area and scout any prosperous looking customers."
"What do we sell?"
"Anything," he returned promptly. "But for now, it's more a question of what these fine folk can give us."
"Um, are we talking like pick-pocketing?"
"Pretty much," he agreed. "In the mean while, anything you want to know?"
"Yeah, what in great good god's name is that?!" Miaka had jumped up on his back before he even had time to turn.
"What?" He looked at the animal she was pointing at in bafflement. "That's a horse."
"But, but - it has tusks!"
"Yeah. Your point..." his voice trailed off.
"It has tusks," she repeated again slowly.
"All horses do."
"What about the whole girls love ponies image?"
Tamahome looked at her, amazement painted clearly on his features. "Are you crazy? I wouldn't let a girl near a bloodthirsty, carnivorous animal like that."
"Whatever."
Gradually the conversation turned to a more neutral ground; politics.
"Wait, let me get this straight. There are more noble women, yet it's the men that rule?"
"Yeah," Tamahome said with a shrug. "I know it's strange, but nobility has always been set in tradition. Out here on the streets it's equal, but in the higher classes things get more restricting. Really, the nobility has a lot of strange beliefs the rest of don't share. We might as well be different species for all we have in common."
"Like what?" Their convoluted social structure was fascinating.
"Well, take the prostitution thing. It's considered an honest trade out here and a legitimate way to improve your status, but try to suggest that a lady do that...sit back and watch the fireworks. Then there's more. Out here, a man makes his reputation by his skill and merit, but up they're proper birth is all that matters."
"What's considered the proper birth?"
"In wedlock, for one. You have to have two parents of the same station - I pity the man who tries to marry above his class. Really, the only reason this prince is keeping the throne is because he's so firm on the point that he doesn't want to be emperor. If he tried to make the situation permanent, he'd probably be hauled up to trial on some trumped up charge and undergo a slow and painful execution. It'd serve as a warning to those who would try to rise above their birth. If the affair wasn't public, then tickets would probably sold to an exclusive audience of those willing to blow a small fortune on their sick little amusements."
Miaka shivered. A cloud suddenly seemed to have come between her and the warmth of the sun. "Why don't you tell me more of those emperor stories," she suggested.
Brightening visibly, Tamahome launched into another; eager to share his hobby with one that had a willing ear.
"There's always the one that he's lining the royal coffers with illegal bootlegging..."
**************************
Tamahome saw how badly he had disturbed Miaka and kept the conversation to cheerful topics, so not to upset her further. Soon, he had her in tears from laughter, former worries forgotten. It seemed he couldn't recall a time when she hadn't been by his side, tagging along in his marketing ventures. She was a natural thief if he had ever saw one. Somehow, that didn't surprise him.
"What do you think happened to the emperor, Tamahome?"
"Common sentiment on the street is that he ran away. A little before he left, Kutou, the neighboring empire started making hostile advances toward Konan. Suzaku knows that he wasn't exactly renown for his stalwart courage." He edged closer to a particularly heavy looking purse.
"Where's Konan?"
He turned to her in shock, purse forgotten. "This is Konan, you idiot. This empire. Where did you think you were?"
"I don't know," she said with a helpless shrug. "That's why I needed your help. You see, I'm not here by choice." She sat down on a crate, and in a faltering voice poured out her story.
"I was sitting at my computer-"
"What's a computer?"
"It's a machine where you can go on the Internet through."
"What's the Internet?"
"It's a place where everyone knows each other, but never meet." A long, confused silence ensued.
"What?"
"Never mind. Well, anyway, I was on the Internet and I misspelled the topic I was looking for - "
"Wait, you can write?" A calculating gleam entered Tama's eyes, as another set of marketable skills came into his already impressive repertoire.
"Yeah. Well anyway, I was looking at a website - "
"What's a website? Some kind of trap set by a spider monster?"
"Uh, yeah."
"That's pretty cool." It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why, when she remembered the horses. Suddenly she didn't want to know.
"Well anyway, a gold light came out of the monitor-"
"What's a monitor?"
"Shut up and let me finish!" she shouted. He fell into a temporary, pouty silence. "Thank you. Now, as I was saying, a gold light came from the monitor, and the next thing I knew, I was in the clearing where you found me."
"Wow. That's pretty messed up."
"You insensitive jerk!" Miaka barely had the heart to punch him, she was so upset. "I'll never see Yui or Suzuno or Takiko again. I'll never get yelled at by my landlord for rent being three weeks late. I'll never have a shower or a soda again!"
"What's soda?"
"Why you -" Her fist's descent on Tamahome's head was stopped midair. "Where'd you get that ring?" she asked with interest. He peeked out from behind his arms that he had raised to fend off her blows.
"What?"
"The ring on your finger," she repeated impatiently.
"This?" A golden band glittered on his ring finger. "They're issued by the empire. Every man has one."
"Like a tagging system?"
"I guess so. What's a shower?"
She raised a fist again, only to be forestalled once again by Tamahome's deft questioning. "Are you hungry?"
"Whoa. It's like you're reading my mind."
"Cuz there's so much there to read," he muttered.
"What was that?" she asked sweetly.
"Uh, how's Cajun?"
***************************
Miaka awoke every morning with anticipation now. She was eager to see what the day would bring at Tamahome's side. Every day, she learned something new.
"Today, I will teach you about the fine art of mugging people," her mentor said grandiosely. "First, you choose a likely quarry in an abandoned place."
So that was how they had spent the last three hours, haunting alleys and waiting for a profitable subject to pass their way. Now, finally, one had come into view.
Tamahome put on a skier's mask and handed one to Miaka. "This is one of the stupid young lords who think they are immune to the accidents that befall so many of his kind. Look, he thinks he's incognito as a commoner, but his clothing is much too fine, not to mention the fact that he still hasn't dropped the insufferable arrogance common to his breed. You can practically see worthless bum written across his face. More importantly to us, you can see rich, worthless bum written on his face. Watch me."
Tamahome slid across the cracked walls, dark clothing blending in perfectly with the shadows. Following suit, Miaka watched in admiration as he came up behind the man and hit him on the back of the head with a brick. Extracting rope from somewhere, Tamahome trussed him up like a pig and began to search him for valuables. The man was made of sterner stuff than he had expected though, for halfway through, he woke up.
"Face me like a man!" he bellowed angrily. "I could kill you both with one hand tied behind my back!"
"Doubtful," Tamahome said cheerfully. "But in the off chance that you could, I took the liberty of tying both of your hands behind your back, as well as your feet together."
His face grew apoplectic. "Have you no honor?!"
"You know," he replied in a conversational tone, "Honor is a funny word. Some would say that disobeying your father and sneaking off to go drink with your buddies in a common tavern is dishonorable. After all, doesn't Confucius stress familial piety?" He cut off the man's purse and hefted it thoughtfully in his hand as he spoke. "Now, others may say that robbing a spoiled little well-born brat of his spending money is dishonorable, but me, well I prefer to think of it as a favor to society, a redistribution of resources, if you will. And though I may sit in this alley, stealing all of the worldly possessions you have on you, I never disobeyed my daddy. And which one of is being robbed, hmm? In fact, if you think about it, I'm doing you a favor. Having no cash, you can't possibly go out drinking or whoring or whatever you were planning on doing that was probably expressly against parental permission. So I'm saving you from carrying a sin on your conscience. You should thank me."
"Give me my sword! I'll cut you all to pieces! I'll kill you -"
"With one hand tied behind your back, yes we know," Miaka said with a sigh. "I assure you, if either of us wanted to face you like a man, we would have done so by now. Feel free to speak up if you have any original thoughts."
He gaped at her, looking for all the world like a stranded fish. Opening his mouth, he let out a roar of sheer rage.
"Gag him," Tamahome ordered curtly. "Someone might notice." He paused. "Wait, do you know how to gag someone?"
She bestowed on him a withering look. "Of course I know how to gag someone. I've babysat before."
"Good. Now you mentioned a sword, yes? That'll fetch a pretty penny at the pawn shop."
Only when they had searched him over for the third time was Tamahome satisfied that he hadn't missed anything.
"You did good, kid," he said to Miaka. Turning to their captive, he extended a hand and shook his tied one firmly. "Thank you sir, it was a pleasure doing business. If you tell anyone that you were mugged sneaking out to go whoring, you'll be like a true incompetent ass, so I advise against it. I'll be taking back my ropes for future use, but first, I'm sure you'll understand if we don't let you stay awake for that event. Please, feel free to come back this way anytime." Lifting a heavy board, he brought it back down again on the man's head.
"And that, was a mugging."
*********************
"Yeah, that was fun," Miaka said gleefully. "Let's do it again!"
"Sure, but later. I'm starving." Tamahome stretched and started strolling out toward the common area. "Beating people up and robbing them always makes me hungry."
Never adverse to the thought of food, Miaka fell in stride beside him. "Tamahome, what makes you different from a bandit?"
He stopped short and by the expression he wore, Miaka could tell she had hit upon a sore spot. "I'm different from a bandit because bandits are stupid," he said fiercely. "They ambush people, beat them up and take their money. I ambush them; beat them up and take their money while wearing a ski mask. They could never stroll into town without being lynched up by everyone they've ever mugged. I, on the other hand, can go anywhere with impunity.
"They all live in one place, which makes them easier to hunt down and wipe out. If I were to form a crime organization like that, I would keep everyone separate, so if they found and killed one, all the other members would be safe.
"Bandits are dirty. Bandits are hicks. Bandits smell. But you know what the worst thing about bandits is? Women aren't allowed. It's an all boy's club."
"Why Tama, that's very open minded of -"
"Who's going to cook and clean for them? Their home must be a sty," he continued, oblivious to the respect he had almost won.
"Strange words, coming from you," she said dryly, thinking back on their shared home.
"Bandits are worse than me," he said positively.
"Let's get some food."
*********************
Tamahome rolled over on his stomach and looked at the clock. It was one in the morning and more than his stiffening bruises were keeping him awake. He had earned them in a scuffle the previous day and playing the affair over in his mind, he was troubled.
"Miaka?" he whispered softly. "Are you awake?"
She rolled over on her side and met his eyes. "Yeah Tamahome?"
"There's something I have to tell you that I've never told anyone else before, ever."
Her heart sped up and rose to her throat. 'He's going to tell me he loves me,' she thought joyfully. 'He's going to tell me he can't live without me and then he's going to sweep me up in his well muscled arms and -'
"I think I'm a sadist."
"What?"
"I think I'm a sadist," he repeated patiently. "Today, when we were fighting, I found myself...enjoying it."
"That's it?"
"What did you think I was going to say?" He sounded honestly puzzled.
"I'm going back to sleep."
"No, I really want to know."
"Goodnight Tamahome."
*********************
The next lesson was on robbery of the snatch and run style.
On the way to the ever popular market, several women called their young sons inside and averted their faces from Tamahome. After the fifth such incident, he was puzzled and annoyed. He was pretty sure Miaka was involved somehow, though. Then, in a flash of insight, the sly, sidelong glances from the girls back at the brothel fell into place.
"Miaka," he asked mildly. "What did you tell them?"
"Who?"
"You know who."
"No?"
"Did you tell everyone I was promiscuous?"
"I thought your reputation could use a little polishing."
"Bad girl. Promise not to do it again."
A stranger saved Miaka from making any promises she might actually have to keep. He pulled on Tamahome's sleeve.
"Hey, aren't you that slaver?"
"Uh, no. No I'm not."
He grabbed Miaka's arm and sped his walk up to a trot.
Turning around, she caught the man's eye and started mouthing noticeably, "Yes he is. Help me."
"Guards!"
"Holy crap!" They made it to the market at a run. Panting, Tamahome pointed out her target - a little old lady's purse.
"Her?" Miaka asked, aghast. "But she's like eighty. That could be her entire life's savings."
"It's also your supper." Before he had time to blink, Miaka had punched the lady, and was running away clutching the purse triumphantly, shouting, "You don't need to eat anymore! You're gonna die soon anyway!"
Tamahome surveyed the fruits of her labor with interest.
"Anything good?" She wondered idly.
"Umm.... crumpled tissues...old, dusty Lifesavers.... and two gold coins! Good job!"
"Can I have the Lifesavers?"
***************************
"Tamahome, do I have any clean underwear out there?" Miaka called from behind the changing screen. He looked up briefly from the pile of coins he was counting.
"Dunno and I refuse to do the smell test for any that's not mine."
"Spoilsport," she muttered. Several minutes later, she crawled out, fully clothed. "Tamahome, how come I don't get any of the profits?"
"You don't get any of my profits cuz you're my 'prentice," he explained without looking up. "You're my 'prentice til -"
"I make my first big bust on my own, yeah I got that. I've been living with you six months now. What do you say I try today?"
"Today?" He looked up, interest caught. "What do you have in mind? It'll have to be big, ya know -" his tone turned warning. "I won't settle for anything less."
Miaka simply gave a mysterious smile. "You'll see. And trust me - it'll be big enough even for you." Standing up abruptly, she grabbed his coat and bounded toward the door. "C'mon. I feel the need to stretch my legs."
Miffed, he followed.
******************
It was a beautiful day out. The sun was bright and shining, a pleasant breeze stirred, and the scent of money was in the air. Of course, the scent of money was always in the air, provided you had the right kind of nose for it. A nose like Tamahome's and like the one Miaka was soon going to prove to him she also had.
Linking her arm casually in his, she strolled to the center square. Cheerfully whistling a strain of "Wanted Dead Or Alive" by Bon Jovi, she kept her eyes peeled for the first sight of the emperor's parade.
It was hard to miss. Colorful, not to say tacky, banners shouted royal presence from a mile away. Acrobats and jugglers preceded the actual emperor, and by Miaka's way of thinking, provided the better show. Huge elephants that looked like the ones she was familiar with cleared the crowd. A hundred guards, all in dress uniform, surrounded and carried the emperor's palanquin, a large gaudy affair decorated entirely in gold. The procession occurred at the beginning of every month to pacify the need for pomp of...someone.
Releasing her grip on Tamahome's arm, she slipped off into the crowd and started edging closer to the emperor. Warily eyeing over the guards, she counted silently to ten. Then she struck. Flying from guard to big fat guard, she kicked out all of their knees. As they fell to the ground, she charged the palanquin with a flying leap. Remembering everything she had ever learned in long jump during track, she tucked her legs up, grabbed anything she could as she went hurtling through, and landed safely on her feet.
Not waiting to see the reaction, she sprinted off to the back streets she was so at home with now and soon lost them. Blood was pounding in her ears and adrenaline surged through her body. At the sound of footsteps she pivoted, knife held ready, but there was no need; it was only Tamahome.
"Dear god, I hope that was worth it. Are you crazy? What did you get?" Questions flew out of his mouth as fast as he could find air to utter them.
She held up her richly gleaming prize. It was the emperor's crown.
Tamahome stared, dumbfounded. Silently he offered his hand.
"Welcome aboard partner."