The Man I Used to Be
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The Man I Used to Be
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Author's Notes: A short. Inspired from the Second OAV when Nuriko tells Taka that he is older then Nuriko... this ignores the reincarnations.

He stood at the peak of the mountain, looking over the horizon towards the east. The pre dawn light glinted off the snow-covered trees, and the man shuddered, pulling his cloak tighter around him.
His unusual amber eyes followed the gradual progression of the sunrise, a slight smile forming on his lips. It wasn't often he got the chance to take a quiet moment for himself, and he relished the stillness. Soon he would return to his family, but for now, Kou Shun'u, formerly the Suzaku Seishi Tasuki, had peace.
The sun finally crested the horizon, and he sighed with satisfaction. He hadn't appreciated such small things when he had been a young man, and he wished he had. Sometimes he wished he could go back through time and talk to the impetuous teenager he had been, and tell him to appreciate his time with the miko and her seishi. In retrospect, he could see he had truly been blessed by Suzaku, for few were granted the chance to do the things he had done, and with such extraordinary company.
I still miss you guys, he thought fondly. Time had taken away the sting from their deaths, but the sorrow remained. He could remember Hotohori sitting on his throne, the Emperor of Konan. He remembered Nuriko slamming him into walls, Mistake healing him, Chiriko saving them from Amiboshi. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Chichiri, but Shun'u was positive the monk was still around somewhere, bouncing around and adding "no da!" to everything he said. And then there was Taka and Miaka...
Taka was not Tamahome, but Tamahome was Taka. It was a strange thing, and over the years, Shun'u had reflected on the matter, something that had taken him time to learn how to do. Miaka had loved them both, but she, with her special insight, had realized the truth before Taka had understood who he was. Miaka, though, would always hold a special place in his heart- his first love. But that was all.
"Ohayo, Tasuki-chan!" a cheerful voice called. "You look lost in your thoughts today!"
Shun'u spun around, recognizing the voice. It can't be... he thought. But it was. Nuriko, the third shichiseishi, stood before him. His hair was shorn at the nape of the neck, and his clothes were in dark shades that made his skin look pale as death- which, considering the fact that he was dead, wasn't that surprising. "Nani?" he whispered.
Nuriko gave him a happy smile and bounded up the remaining distance that separated him, his movements graceful and strangely uninhibited by the wind that whipped around the peak. "I thought I'd stop in for a visit," Nuriko said, his voice sweet and as melodic as a well-played flute.
"Strange time for me to start going mad," Shun'u muttered to himself.
"You've already been and come back quite a few times," Nuriko said cheekily.
Shun'u smiled tiredly at his friend. "So how have you been?"
Nuriko waved a hand languidly. "Pretty good for a dead guy." Then his face lost some of its assumed happiness. "But I miss arguing with you. No one to hit," he said.
Shun'u said nothing. "Aren't you going to argue that one?" Nuriko asked, surprised.
"I'm not the same man you knew, Nuriko," Shun'u said, running his hand through his hair. It was as thick as it had ever been, but many streaks of white ran through it.
Nuriko stared sadly at his friend's face. While still handsome is a predatory way, the years had taken their toll. His eyes had faint lines around them, and those amber eyes themselves looked older- almost wise. While the man was still a beautiful physical specimen, Nuriko could see from his stance that one of his knees pained him. Most of all, though, was a certain serenity that emanated from him- certainly nothing at all like the Tasuki he had known. "No, you're not the same."
They stood together in silence for a few minutes, Nuriko unwillingly to leave yet, and Shun'u unable to find anything to say. "I have a family now. I actually got married, if you can believe it," he said with a chuckle.
This set Nuriko off into a fit of giggles. "What's she like? She must be something special, if she managed to get through that 'I Hate Women!' attitude you had."
Shun'u smiled gently. "She is wonderful. We have three children, two strong boys and a girl who's even more beautiful then you ever were."
Nuriko sniffed derisively. "I doubt that. The only one who ever came close to me was Hotohori-sama."
The two friends laughed together, but finally Shun'u sank to the the ground, trying to refrain from wincing. Damn knee, he thought.
"Daijoba?" Nuriko asked.
"It's fine," Shun'u assured him. "Just an old wound that acts up in the cold- but I wanted to see the sunrise from this cliff. I do this every year, on this date."
Nuriko frowned and placed a hand on his cheek, the gesture strangely feminine. "Why this date?"
"I'm surprised that you don't remember. Thirty years ago to the day, we failed to summon Suzaku."
Nuriko shuddered. "If we had... I might still be alive," Nuriko said very wistfully. "Why do you want to remember such a horrid thing?"
"Because it was an important date. If we had succeeded then, so much pain could have been avoided. That was when things started to go wrong. I simply can't allow myself to remember each of your deaths, each time something terrible happened, or else I would be in a state of constant mourning. I've had to move on."
Nuriko slid his insubstantial body down next to Shun'u, and together they look over the land. The freshly risen sun glinted off the white snow, and the older man had to squint to avoid the sun-glare. Nuriko, though, was unaffected, one of the advantages of being a spirit. "It's strange to hear you talk like that. You sound older then I do- but then, I guess you are."
Shun'u nodded, turning his gaze to Nuriko. The man was looked exactly the way he had when he had died, and always would look the same. Eternal youth had such a bitter price. "I've had time to change- like I said before, I'm not the man you knew before. I'm not even Tasuki- I'm just Kou Shun'u, a farmer."
Nuriko seemed to grow more insubstantial, then solidify again. Shun'u cast him a questioning look, but the lavender haired man just shrugged. "It's hard to maintain a presence in the sunlight," he explained. Then he sighed, even though he had no breath to sigh with. "Did you realize we each had a destiny?"
"We were the Suzaku Seishi- of course we did!" Shun'u snapped, with a trace of his old temper.
That set Nuriko off into a minor fit of pique. Shun'u restrained himself with much more ease then he had ever done before, and waiting until Nuriko had finished sulking. "No, baka! That wasn't what I meant," Nuriko said. "What I meant was... it seemed we each fell into a roll.
"Tama-chan was to love Miaka, Hotohori to rule as a very young King, Mitsukake to save us all, Chiriko to guide us with innocent intelligence. I- I was to be the first to die, the first to become a true Seishi. Did you ever wonder why of all of us, you, Chichiri and Tamahome were the only ones to survive?"
"Every day of my life," Shun'u said.
"Tama-chan was Miaka's reward for sacrificing so much for a land that was not her own. Chichiri survived so he could spread his wisdom. But you, Tasuki, have only now come into your own as a Seishi."
"I told you I'm not Tasuki anymore," Shun'u said, wishing he was able to follow Nuriko's thoughts.
"You'll always be Tasuki, even if you become Shun'u. Like Tamahome, you have become more then what you were. I just hope you'll remember us fondly."
Nuriko rose with an elegant grace that Shun'u hadn't seen since his death- Nuriko was Nuriko, and there was no way anyone could ever approach what the third seishi had been and had. "I had better get going. The dead really aren't suppose to interact with the living, unless its for a good reason. And I doubt they would consider saying "hi!" a good enough reason."
"Why did you come?" Shun'u asked.
Nuriko didn't reply, and turned away.
"Just tell me one thing," Shun'u begged.
The imp of mischief that had been one of Nuriko's more interesting characteristics shone in the purple eyes that looked back at Shun'u. "As long as you answer a question of mine."
"Done," Shun'u agreed. "Why do you say that I've only now come into my own as a seishi? The miko has been gone for a very long time."
Nuriko winked and wagged a finger under Shun'u's nose. "I would tell you to think it through for yourself, but it might hurt you to actually use that head." Then he grew serious. "Of us all, Tasuki, you were the common man. It is now that you have a family, you have shown what the seishi stood for- the future. The future of Suzaku no Miko, this world, of Konan, of the common man is represented by you."
Shun'u nodded quietly, realizing he would have to think on the matter- perhaps during the wait for another sunrise. "What did you want to ask me?" he said after a moment.
Nuriko placed his hands on his hips. "What ever happened to your vocabulary? You haven't cursed once yet!"
Shun'u flushed redder then his hair. "That's the wife's fault. She won't let me swear- actually tied me down and washed out my mouth with soap until I stopped using certain words. Soap tastes horrible," he informed his friend with disgust.
Nuriko frowned, wondering how a woman managed to overpower a seishi, but decided some things were best left unknown. Then he smiled. "I've got to go now, Tasuki," he said quietly.
Shun'u nodded and watched as Nuriko faded from sight, vanishing without a trace. No footprints marks his presence, and the distinctive cologne the lavender haired seishi had always worn didn't linger on the breeze. Shun'u turned back towards the sun.
Had it been a dream? he wondered, then decided he didn't want to know. He sat basking in the warm sun, contented. Shun'u could look back and see the past, but it was the future that mattered. In that respect, Nuriko had been right. Then again, Nuriko had an annoying habit of always giving good advice. Even though I'm thirty years older then he is, Nuriko still acts like my big brother... sister... whatever.
Strangely, it was not a discomforting thought.

END