It was good to be home.

She didn’t know when she had come to think of Konan as home, but the statement held true, nevertheless. How long had she been there, now? A month? Two? An entire year? Or maybe an eternity. She really wasn’t sure. It was really only a matter of hours in her own world, she thought, or maybe it was only the span of time it took for Keisuke to read a single page of the Book.

"I wonder how he feels about all of this," Miaka murmured as she leaned over the railing of the gazebo and gazed into the water below her. She watched as the exotic fish darted to the surface in flashes of gold, snatching unsuspecting water bugs as they skimmed across the lake. She felt sorry for her older brother, knowing that he must be suffering as much as she was, having to read every detail of her "adventures". She smiled grimly, imagining his reaction to some of the things that had happened to her and her Seishi so far. Tamahome, under the curse of the Kodoku, attempting to kill her. The first failed summoning, and Amiboshi’s supposed death. Tamahome’s family slaughtered. Nuriko and Chiriko’s tragic deaths, and her near-rape at first Nakago’s, and then Tomo’s, hands.

Her reflection broke apart as a drop of moisture fell into the water with a soft plip, spreading wavering rings outward until they vanished in the dying sunlight glimmering across the surface. It’s starting to rain, she thought, although she knew very well that it had not been a raindrop to cause those ripples. "Yui-chan," she whispered, reaching a shaking hand to wipe more tears from her eyes. Have I lost you forever…?

"Miaka?"

Startled at the unexpected voice, the girl abruptly straightened as she scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeves, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable position. Had it been Tamahome, it wouldn’t have mattered so much, but the soft, deep voice was not her beloved’s, and the last thing she wanted now was for Hotohori to see her crying like a lost child. "I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were there," she stammered, hoping against hope that her eyes weren’t as swollen as they felt, nor that her nose had turned red as it tended to do when she cried.

Hotohori, upon arriving at the gazebo and seeing his beloved Miko standing at the railing, had hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not to leave her alone. He knew she had left the others to be by herself for awhile; Tamahome had been grousing for the last fifteen minutes about how she wouldn’t even let him go with her. But then he saw her wipe at her eyes, and recognized the signs of grief, and his heart would not listen to his head any longer. "What is the matter, Miaka?" the emperor questioned softly, moving closer to her.

She managed to give him a cheery smile and a lighthearted shrug, but she wasn’t fooling him in the least, and she knew it. Her shoulders slumped again, and her hazel gaze dropped from his own as she fought to hold back more tears. "I’m sorry," she whispered, clasping her hands together in front of her. Her expression kept changing with her inner struggle. "I-I’ve failed you. I’ve failed all of you, and now horrible things are going to happen, and it’s all my fault. I turned out to be a pretty poor excuse of a Miko, didn’t I?" She swallowed and her face crumpled a little. "Yui-chan…I’ve lost her. We can never be friends again…and it hurts. It hurts here…" She laid her hand over her heart. "Right now…I think I would give up anything in the world—even Tamahome—if it meant I could have Yui-chan back again, or if I could undo all the damage that’s been done…"

Hotohori said nothing, but his expression was one of deep compassion and his golden eyes expressed heartfelt anxiety at Miaka's pain. He came to her and took her into his arms in a gentle embrace, the billowing sleeves of his robes shielding her as he stroked her hair softly. "You did what you could," he whispered. "But sometimes even one’s best is simply not good enough. None of us blame you. Please do not blame yourself. I am very proud of you, Miaka. We all are."

Miaka slowly relaxed, allowing Hotohori’s soothing presence to penetrate the coldness that had wrapped around her ever since Yui had summoned Seiryu. She realized that she had missed his warmth, his gentle embrace. How long had it been since she’d been in his arms? She sighed softly and slipped her arms around his waist to hold him back, her troubled thoughts drifting away for the time as she savored the feel of being protected…of being loved. The only other time she felt like this was when she was with…

She was abruptly jerked back to her senses as shame flooded her heart, and she stepped swiftly away from the emperor, trying to ignore the blush that burned in her cheeks. What would people say if they were to see her embracing Hotohori like there was no tomorrow? What would they think?! She was betrothed to Tamahome, after all. After everything they had gone through to be together, how could she be so willing to seek solace in the arms of another man?

And there was yet a better reason to avoid situations like this, she reminded herself bitterly. Houki. Hotohori was a married man now, and she had no right to touch another woman’s husband. Husband… She frowned slightly. Such a strange term, in regards to Hotohori. When she had left, he had been a man who had claimed to be in love with her, who had proposed to her in the first few days after they’d met, and who had taken every chance to hold her in his arms even knowing how she felt about Tamahome. And yet, when she’d returned, he was a husband. And probably a soon-to-be father. And she? She was…yesterday’s newspaper, tossed out with the trash. He had been so formal with her, until now. No longer was she Miaka, his intended bride-to-be (whether she said yes or not). Now she was Suzaku no Miko, and he was her Seishi, and nothing more.

The knowledge…hurt. But she wasn’t really sure if it was her heart, or simply her pride, that had been wounded. After all, it wasn’t very flattering to find out that someone who had proposed to you had gone and married another woman, instead, as though he’d simply forgotten his prior commitment.

She knew it wasn’t really fair to have expected him to hold out and wait for her to change her mind about him, when they both knew that she wasn’t going to. Tamahome was her destined soulmate, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She loved him the way she loved no other person, so much more than she’d ever loved Hotohori, as guilty as she sometimes felt about that. After all, Hotohori was such a gentle, loving man, and he deserved to be happy. She sometimes felt absolutely rotten that she couldn’t return his devotion and simply love him, especially upon witnessing the haunting sadness that constantly lingered in his eyes. Somebody who was so kindhearted shouldn’t be so sad. But if Houki could take away that sadness…

She just wished she’d had more warning, a chance to prepare, to realize that she was no longer the number one woman in his life. The girl he insisted he’d loved since childhood, she thought somewhat bitterly. But I guess childhood dreams can be replaced…

Yes, her pride had indeed been wounded…and so had her heart, just a little.

Hotohori seemed to sense the brooding turn her thoughts had taken, because he fixed her with a concerned look as he sat down on the railing of the gazebo. "Miaka, tell me what’s wrong," he commanded softly. "It isn’t just because of Yui, is it?"

Miaka perched gingerly on the railing beside him and glanced up at him, her breath catching as it always did when she took in his serene beauty. Tamahome was beautiful in his own right, of course, but his was a strong, intense, almost wild beauty. Whenever she looked at him her heart sped up and she felt like nothing could ever hurt her again so long as he was at her side.

Hotohori’s beauty was strong and masculine, as well, but in a much more graceful, refined, well-bred manner. The kind that is inherent in anyone born of royalty (although in most cases perhaps not to such an extreme). In truth, he made her a little nervous, at times, because she was anything but royalty, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what such a man saw in her. Was that where her attraction for Hotohori stemmed from? His beauty, and the fact that he loved her even though she was hardly empress material? She almost hoped it was true, that her mixed-up feelings in regards to the emperor were merely shallow, because then they’d be easy to dispose of, if there was no root to them. But if it was more than that…

"Hotohori," she began quietly, "I…I never congratulated you…on your marriage to Houki. I wish…I could have seen the ceremony. I’m sure it was beautiful." They were somewhat bitter words to spit out, but at the same time…she meant every word.

He glanced at her in surprise, then smiled. "Thank you, Miaka," he replied softly. "I wish you could have seen it, as well."

She hesitated for a brief moment. "I have to admit that I was surprised when I met Houki," she told him nervously.

He smiled amusedly. "Yes, she does look a great deal like Nuriko, doesn’t she?" he replied.

"Yes, but…that wasn’t…exactly what I meant," Miaka stammered, a faint blush covering her cheeks again. "I just…I had no idea that you…I mean…it was kind of a shock…" She broke off, twisting her hands together in her lap. Why did you give up on me, when you promised to always love me?

He gazed at her in confusion, not understanding the anguish in her voice that he didn’t think she was even aware of. And then, suddenly, he did understand. His gaze softened. "With the coming war, I deemed it necessary to take an empress and produce an heir…just in case," he explained gently. She looked up at him sharply, clearly shaken at the implication that something could happen to him, and he touched her shoulder gently to soothe her fears. Her eyes became hazy and soft as she met his gaze, and his breath caught. It was almost the kind of look he’d dreamed of her giving him in the beginning…

"Do you…love her?" she asked softly, almost wistfully. Then, a fiery blush rose to cover her face and she clapped both hands over her mouth. "I-I’m sorry. That was…inappropriate of me to ask such a thing…" she gasped, gazing at him through wide eyes.

He smiled gently to show that he did not take offense at the question. It was no more than he’d expected her to ask, given their past, and she had every right to know. "Yes," he replied quietly, reflectively. "I do love Houki." A moment of hesitation, and then, "She is all I could have hoped for in an empress, and more." Besides you, he was tempted to add, but he held his tongue. Still, the thought weighed heavily on his mind.

Miaka seemed to sense this as she met his gaze again, and her eyes were earnest. "Hotohori," she began softly, hesitantly. "Are you happy? I mean…are you really…happy?"

Once again, their gazes locked, and in his eyes she could see the regret he held in regards to the love that might have been between them. But with that regret there also resided a lingering peace and contentment for what was. The haunting sadness had vanished. When he finally replied, "Yes, I am happy," she believed every word.

She smiled then, a heartbreaking smile, and nodded her head once. "I am so glad for you, Hotohori," she breathed softly, reaching up to shyly caress his face as tears welled in her eyes. To her own surprise, she realized that she meant the words. She was glad for him, despite her own pain. "I’m glad to know that you’re happy, because if anybody deserves happiness, it’s you. I’m so relieved that you found someone to love you the way you deserve to be loved." The way she couldn’t love him, was what she meant, but she didn’t say it aloud.

"Miaka," he whispered, feeling the sting of tears behind his own eyes, and reached trembling hands to rest them on her shoulders. "Thank you…" His voice was choked with emotion. This was a goodbye, he realized. A closure for everything that had ever passed between them. Leaning close, he pressed a soft, chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth, and whispered, "I do love Houki, and I am humbled and honored that she agreed to become my wife…but I still hold a special place for you in my heart, as well. I will always love you, Miaka. Always. And that is the only reason why I was willing to let you go. All I ask of you now is that you be happy, as well, for your happiness is my own."

"I will be," she replied, as he reached to wipe a tear from her cheek. With his words, her pain had faded. She was not forgotten, after all. "It helps, to know that so many people care what happens to me," she continued sincerely. "I do love you, Hotohori, and if it wasn’t for Tamahome…things might have been different between us. But we shouldn’t have any regrets. Everything worked out the way it was supposed to. Houki truly loves you, just as you love her, and you will raise beautiful children, and you will live a long and happy life together, just like me and Tamahome will."

They smiled at each other, at peace for the moment, the troubles with Kutou far from their minds. A faint call echoed across the water, and they turned together to see Tamahome walking along the path leading to the gazebo, clearly searching for someone. Miaka turned to Hotohori a final time before reaching to take his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you for loving me," she whispered, before she slipped from her perch and skipped down the path toward her beloved. "I will never forget your kindness."

Hotohori smiled wistfully as he watched Tamahome’s worried expression turn to one of relief, then to surprise as Miaka threw her arms around his neck and brought his face to her own for a lingering kiss. The two of them parted eventually, and Tamahome smiled lovingly as he entwined her fingers within his own and walked with her toward the gardens, talking softly with head bent close to hers.

"I’m glad for you, Miaka," Hotohori murmured, turning his gaze from them and rising to his feet to walk back to the palace. He sighed deeply as he paced slowly toward his chambers, lost in thought, in bittersweet memories. Then a sweet voice, humming a soft tune, caught his attention, and he raised his eyes to regard his wife, who was sitting by the window, her attention focused on embroidering a lovely design on a silk scarf. The twilight caught in her violet hair so that it gleamed with silver highlights, and sparkled in her soft brown eyes. Her skin glowed like white jade, pale against the richness of her robes. Her expression was serene and sweet, although Hotohori knew well the spirit that lay within her. The same spirit that had drawn him to her from the beginning. She looked like an angel, and he paused in his steps to regard her steadily. He might always hold Miaka close to his heart, but he knew the feeling that now flooded his soul for what it was, and his gaze softened even more as he padded silently toward her.

She looked up, startled, when she felt his presence, and a blush colored her cheeks becomingly. "Heika…" she breathed, rising gracefully to her feet to bow to him, her work dropping to the floor in the process. His lips curved into a smile as he bent to retrieve the needlepoint, handing it to her as his eyes swept over her face. They had not been wedded all that long, in truth, but she had shared his bed nearly every night. And still she retained all the sweet shyness of a virgin bride. It charmed him to no end.

When she moved to take the embroidery from him, still not meeting his gaze, his hand covering her own stilled her. "Have I told you lately," he murmured, "how honored I am that you consented to wed me?"

She blushed again, words failing her. Then, she seemed to gain her courage, and looked up to meet his gaze briefly, the hint of her inner spirit shining in her brown eyes. "No more than I am to have been chosen, Heika," she replied with quiet dignity, before shyly dropping her gaze again. Strong fingers tilted her chin until she was gazing into pools of liquid gold.

"And have I showed you lately," he whispered, his face lowering to her own, "how much I truly love you?" And whatever reply she might have made was cut short as he proceeded to do exactly that.

Yesterday was the past, and the past cannot be altered. Tomorrow is the future, and the future cannot be determined. There is only the moment to be had…and for now, the moment was all that mattered.