The smell of incense filled the room. Hotohori knelt quietly before the idol of Suzaku, hands clasped together in prayer.
    Miaka had chosen Tamahome, and Hotohori had decided to graciously step aside and allow them to love each other. Graciously step aside? He had hardly had a choice. She loved Tamahome, and would always love Tamahome, and there was no room for him in her heart. Clutching a small teddy bear, her last gift to him before leaving for Hokkan, he wished not for the first time that she wouldn't be so gentle about it. If she'd just screamed at him to leave her alone, if she had just told him to go away, that would have been so much easier to accept. Not this gentle rejection that almost wasn't. This he couldn't deal with.
    Miaka was gone from his life forever. And now, Nuriko was gone as well. He had felt the seishi's death, and had known instantly who it was. Nuriko. It had to be. None of the others... felt... like that. Nuriko, his one other chance at love. If only he had been a woman! If only...
    "Suzaku, please don't let me be alone anymore." How many times had he prayed that, in vain? He'd hoped Suzaku no Miko would be the answer to his prayers, someone to treat him as something other than the Emperor, but she had chosen Tamahome. The only person who did love him, Nuriko, was now dead. It seemed all chances of his prayer finally being answered were gone. Still he prayed. "Suzaku, please don't let me be alone anymore."
    The words echoed emptily. It was late, and the incense seemed to fill Hotohori's senses, dizzying him. He repeated the words again, and again, almost like a mantra, as though trying to drown out his loneliness with his prayer. Still no answer came, though.
    "Suzaku, are you even there?" He didn't even realize his prayer had changed until he had repeated it a few times. That was the real question now. Why had his god abandoned him? Why was he left alone still? Hadn't he been loyal enough? Hadn't he done his best? Why did Suzaku ignore his prayers?
    "Suzaku, why won't you answer me?" Hotohori's eyes were still closed, and he felt tears beginning to form under his eyelids. Every hope he had had was dead. Every love he had held dear was gone. What more was there for him?
    "Suzaku, why...?"
    "Shh."
    Hotohori's eyes shot open when he heard the soft response. A young man was kneeling in front of him, face to face. Hotohori wondered how anyone could have gotten so close to him without his noticing. His eyes were strange, a sort of ruby red, and his short hair was red to match. Something about him was soothing, and Hotohori had the odd feeling that he had been there the entire time.
    "Who--?" Hotohori managed to get out. The young man smiled.
    "You prayed to Suzaku to not be lonely, didn't you?" he asked. His voice was as strange as the rest of him, neither male nor female in quality, yet somehow very deeply beautiful. Hotohori realized with a shock that the young man was even more beautiful than himself. An idea began to creep in the back of his mind.
    "Suza..." he said. Before he could finish the name, the young man leaned forward and kissed him.