Anti-Litigation Charm: If you recognize it, I don't own it. :)

A/N: This story ignores anything after the original series. This means the OVA's never happened in my universe. This is my first FY fanfiction, and I'm running on memory, so con-crit is welcomed but please be kind. :) I don't have a beta, so all errors are my own. (I'm really bad at proofing my own stuff, so if there's any glaring mistakes, please let me know.)

At age 15, Miaka Yuuki entered a book, fell in love, was betrayed by the friend she held above all others, saved a world, and became a hero. The friendship was repaired, and the optimistic, if immature, girl achieved a better understanding of human nature and the world around her. Unfortunately, her hard-won knowledge wasn't applicable to her school entrance exams, which she, as predicted by aforementioned friend Yui Hongo, failed spectacularly.

At age 16, she threw herself into her studies, kept a watchful eye out for Tamahome, whom she hoped to meet again, signed up for self-defense courses, and tried to teach herself to cook. Five fire department visits, a well-meaning suggestion from a friendly but increasingly desperate Fire Inspector, and three scorched sets of pans later, she gave up on cooking and decided on music lessons instead. To everyone's surprise (and most of all her own), Miaka proved to have a natural talent for song composition. She based many of her songs on the adventures and emotions she'd experienced while in Konan. After all, it seemed like the perfect outlet.

At age 17, Miaka was beginning to wonder if she was going to see Tamahome again. Her boundless optimism, it seemed, was beginning to reach a limit. She began to improve in her self-defense courses, slowly overcoming a good deal of her natural clumsiness. She dreamed of them almost nightly, of Chichiri, Hotohori, Tasuki, Nuriko, and of Tamahome, and tried not to panic when their images became fuzzy around the edges. She feared the night she would not be able to fully recall all the planes and shadows of her beloved's face. She began to keep a journal, recording every detail she could remember of her time in the Universe of the Four Gods. Her studies started to slip and when she entered her last year of school she was barely passing her courses.

At age 18, Miaka Yuuki graduated without honors. Her bother Keisuke and his new classmate, Taka Sukunami, lost their lives when the taxi they were riding in was involved in an accident. Miaka was devastated by the loss of her brother and did not attend either memorial service. She spent her evenings staring up at the stars, her eyes tracing the celestial constellations of her seishi, wanting but not expecting to see anything that would indicate their well-being. She no longer scanned the faces of everyone she passed on the city's busy streets, waiting for a spark of recognition. She continued to work at defense, more out of habit than any desire to become self-reliant. Her heart poured out in her journal and her music. She tried to draw a picture of her seishi all together but the attempt ended in tears when she realized she could no longer remember whether Chichiri's scar extended past his eyebrow. That night, when she dreamed, the faces of her dear friends were gaping black holes, and she woke up trembling.

At age 19, Miaka was almost completely cut off from her concerned friends and family. Only Yui could get through to the former Suzaku no Miko, and even then, only occasionally. Miaka's mother, concerned for her daughter's mental and emotional well-being, sent her to a psychologist. At first she tried denying that anything was wrong, but finally, increasing apathy won out.

At age 20, Miaka Yuuki, the former Priestess of Suzaku and savior of the Empire of Konan in the Universe of the Four Gods, made the biggest mistake of her young life. She told her psychologist about the Book.

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Delusional disorder, the doctors had whispered to Mrs. Yuuki. Polythematic megalomania. Psychopathological conditions. So sorry. Requires medications, therapy, treatments. Lifelong disorder.

Mrs. Yuuki sobbed but signed the consent forms with a shaking hand.

The first round of treatments were administered within a day of Miaka's admittance to Tokyo's top mental health facility. A jaded doctor asked a few questions, murmured "mmmmhmmm" a few times, and scribbled a quick prescription inside the brand new file of Yuuki, Miaka, patient #81371.

The medications (small, blue, scored) caused Miaka's appetite to vanish. She lost ten pounds before another white-coated doctor made a change in the dosing. The new meds (yellow, caplets) made her so fuzzy that she did little more than sleep. A third doctor was called in; another change was made, and with the flat white tablets came the hallucinations.

Miaka was happier than she had been in years when she saw her brother and her seishi before her once more. She politely introduced Hotohori, former Emperor of the Konan Empire, to the team of doctors who made the rounds every morning. The doctors furrowed their brows in confusion and alarm, and the flat white tablets no longer appeared in the paper cups that delivered Miaka's morning cocktails.

The finest doctors in Japan were called in to advise on Patient #81371's case. A parade of medications followed as the bewildered medical staff tried their best to stabilize the young woman's condition. Slender and tan made her cry all day. Large, green, and coated made her psychotic. Tiny, yellow, and bitter caused seizures.

Two weeks after Miaka's 23 birthday, the medical team, at a complete loss, started electroconvulsive therapy.

Luckily, the doctor administering the procedure was intent on the readings being shown on one of the computerized screens, and thus missed seeing the faint red light that surrounded the patient briefly before fading out again.

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There were fourteen different meditation pools in the Imperial gardens of Konan, but this one had always been his favorite. It was far enough away from the everyday bustle of the palace that there was a measure of tranquility, but not so far that he would miss a cry for help. Not that he expected such a thing, but the events of the war twelve years earlier had altered certain behaviors in anyone who had lived through them. Kneeling comfortably beside the still water, Chichiri, lost deep in his mid-day meditations, was almost knocked flat by a jolt of... something... coursing through his body. His abrupt movements disturbed several songbirds, who had been nesting in a nearby tree, and they shot up into the sky with an indignant cry. Chichiri scrambled to his feet, reaching for his shakujō with one hand, but before he could recover, the mark on his knee, dormant for so long, flared to life. He caught his breath and the light pouring forth flashed out as if it had never existed.

Eyes wide, heart pounding, the monk grabbed his kasa and was gone before the rushing of wings faded into silence.

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The bundle of straw, tied strategically to resemble a person, didn't stand a chance.

"REKKA SHIN'EN!" The cry rang out along the previously peaceful mountainside as flames shot out, roaring forward, rolling and licking down a controlled path, straight for the intended target. The straw crackled a few times before the fire dissipated with a slow hiss. One blackened "arm" plopped to the earth below.

Enthusiastic applause greeted the pyrotechnic show. The bandits of Mt. Reikaku never failed to be impressed, no matter how many times they witnessed the tessen's power. Tasuki secretly thought they were just happy to have the flames directed at something other than themselves.

He glanced over his shoulder at the group of bandits and grinned. "Ya ain't seen nothin', men. Hey Kouji, get yer ass over here! I've been practicin' this for a while and I need a volunteer."

Kouji gulped, but bravely moved forward. The last time he had "assisted" the boss with one of his flamboyant practice sessions, his hair had been all but singed away and the smell of smoke had clung to him for the better part of a week. And then there was that time where it had taken four whole months to re-grow his eyebrows...

But whatever. Tasuki was certain he had it down this time. He had continued to practice with the tessen and his control of the flames was something breathtaking to watch, as if they were an extension of the flame-haired seishi himself. He directed Kouji forward and waved the tessen to the left until his friend was perfectly positioned. Tasuki's amber eyes narrowed as he called forth his target, and his arm arced down with his seishi speed.

Several things happened at once. Tasuki's cry of "REKKA SHIN'EN!" reverberated through the target clearing as the Wing symbol on his forearm appeared, sending blinding red light in all directions. Tasuki brought his arm up to shield his eyes, spitting curses, and the flames from the tessen hurled themselves forward, undirected. Kouji threw himself forward onto the ground. The flames roared harmlessly over his head.

As abruptly as it had come, the light was gone. "...the fuck was that?" Tasuki exclaimed, as Kouji spit out a mouthful of earth. The redhead jerked his arm around to stare at the dormant mark, bewildered. It took a moment for his mind to wrap around what had happened, before he realized what the appearance of his seishi mark must mean.

"Miaka!" the name left his lips in a rush of breath. His fingers, unbidden, sought out a small scrap of material in his pocket before he turned and bolted. He was halfway down the mountain when he was knocked to his feet by something unexpectedly solid.

"Hey! Get the eff off of me, damn it!" the bandit yelped, untangling his limbs from those of the only other remaining Suzaku warrior.

"Sorry, no da," said Chichiri, dusting off his kesa with quick, agitated strokes, "but something important has happened."

"I know," Tasuki replied grimly. "I saw it too."

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As he stepped out of the portal Chichiri had provided, Mount Taikyoku appeared as majestic as ever, but the bandit was too agitated to care. His thought were swirling around, trying to make sense of the appearance of his seishi mark for the first time in almost twelve years. He remembered his Miko, with her otherworldly clothes and dumpling hair, eyes like green pools one could fall into, her giving nature and selfless heart. He remembered how it felt to be willing to die for something, for someone, greater than himself. He remembered fighting back-to-back with his brother warriors, the cries of battle, the scent of charred wood and flesh and ozone heavy in the air, and he was overcome with a sense of loss so profound that the years separating those events fell away in an instant. Damn it, not now, he thought, bowing his head and biting the inside of his cheek to stop the grief and rage at their deaths from ripping through him. He heard Chichiri climb out of the kasa and turned away slightly, not wanting his friend to see how badly shaken he was by the events of the morning.

He had almost gotten his emotions back under reign when suddenly his vision was filled with the most hideous sight. With the face of a bloodhound, Taiitsukun winked into existence, hovering not ten inches away from where Tasuki stood. "Arrrugh!" he screeched, scrambling away, his heart in his throat. "What'd ya go and do that for, ya old bat!"

"Tasuki!" Chichiri admonished him.

The bandit shrugged. "She coulda given me a little space, ya know? There's no call for sneakin' up on someone like that." He tried to avoid Taiitsukun's steady gaze, but felt himself begin to fidget. "Aww, hell. Sorry, Taiitsukun," he muttered, tracing a line in the dust with the toe of his boot.

Taiitsukun waved away his apology with a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand. "It is good you are here, Suzaku no seishi."

"Did you feel the disturbance too, no da? Chichiri inquired

"I did," Taiitsukun answered, floating forward, and motioned the seishi to follow. She refused to say more until they were inside and seated comfortably.

Tasuki felt like he was about to explode. He shifted on his cushion and finally blurted out, "So what the hell is goin' on? Is Miaka and Tamahome ok?"

Taiitsukun gave him a steely glare. "I believe it does have to do with Miaka, yes, and no, I would not say she is fine. I have come to understand that she is being held, against her will, and being subjected to unconscionable tortures."

Tasuki jumped to his feet, ignoring the way Chichiri was tugging on his tunic to get him to sit down. His hands were balled into shaking fists, and god, he wanted to hit someone- something- anything. "What're they doin' to her?"

Taiitsukun let out a short, humorless laugh. "They have harnessed the power of the lightening and have used it on her body and mind."

A wave of nausea washed through Tasuki at the thought. He stumbled backward, stunned, as Chichiri whispered "Suzaku!" Whether it was a curse or a plea, Tasuki didn't know.

"Why?" Chichiri ground out. "Why would someone want to hurt Miaka? Suzaku's already been summoned, no da."

Taiitsukun eyed the monk as if considering how much to tell. Finally, she spoke. "They are convinced that she is... unstable. The inhabitants of Miaka's world do not believe in magic, in the power of the Gods... or in the Universe of the Four Gods. When she spoke of this world to those in hers, the healers in her world did not, could not, believe her."

"Miaka ain't fucking crazy!" Tasuki burst out. "We need'ta get her out of there!" Chichiri was nodding in agreement.

"I know that," Taiitsukun snapped, before resuming her usual demeanor. Tasuki could tell she had been badly shaken as well by the knowledge she was imparting, so he took a deep breath and settled back on his cushion, although it cost him. He wanted to run through Miaka's world, blasting everything in his path, until he found her and got her the hell out of there. Never mind that Suzaku had already been summoned and technically, his duty was done. But Taiitsukun was speaking again, so Tasuki forced his anger back to a simmer and tried to pay attention.

"Although I have resolved not to interfere with the world Miaka resides in, she is beloved of Suzaku, and such a travesty can not be overlooked. Nyan-Nyan and I are seeking a way to allow you through the boundary between her world and this one. In the meantime, I ask that you prepare yourselves. The journey is likely to be arduous and Miaka's world is nothing like your own. Now go, and leave me to consider what is to be done."

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"I don't get it, Chiri," Tasuki grumbled. "How could this have happened? Where the eff is Tamahome? He said he was gonna protect her!" The bandit paced around the small quarters of the monk's room.

Chichiri's mask was discarded on a small table, and without it the monk's expression was somber and distressed. "I don't know, no da. I can only guess that they haven't found each other, because Tamahome would never have let anything like this happen if her were there, no da."

Tasuki growled, low in his throat. "Taiitsukun needs to hurry it up, cause I'm in the mood to kick some ass. While we're just sitting here, who knows what the hell they're doin' ta Miaka."

"I know, no da. But I'm sure Taiitsukun is working as fast as she can. Breaching the barrier between worlds can't be easy, even for one as powerful as she."

Tasuki stopped pacing abruptly and flopped backwards on the monk's bed, aggrieved. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. No mouthing off to Grandma. But damn, Chiri, I hate feelin' so helpless." He moved his hand into his pocket, seeking the small bit of cloth and the connection that he had carried with him for twelve years.

Chichiri's astute gaze followed the movement, but wisely, he said nothing.

The knock on his door brought them both to their feet. It was Nyan-Nyan. "Taiitsukun is ready for you," it announced gleefully.

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They found Taiitsukun where they had left her, hovering in the middle of the room, lost in thought. Chichiri cleared his throat politely to announce their presence. "Ah, you've returned," Taiitsukun straightened her shoulders and nodded for them to resume their seats. "I have conferred with Nyan-Nyan and Suzaku and I believe we have found a way to transport you to Miaka's world. However, once you are there, I will not be able to reach you. You will have to return of your own volition, either through the book of the Universe of the Four Gods, or by other, currently unknown means. It is possible you will be unable to find a portal. Therefore, it is your choice if you will undertake this rescue. Your service to your Miko effectively ended when she returned to her own world. If you do this now, it will be choice, and not duty, that compels you."

"Ta hell with all that, I'm goin' no matter what," Tasuki glared at Taiitsukun and crossed him arms over his chest, as if waiting for the old woman to object.

"Miaka needs us, no da," Chichiri stated firmly.

Taiitsukun's face broke out in a wide smile that was possibly more hideous than anything Tasuki had ever seen. He cringed and shied a little closer to Chichiri. A glance at Taiitsukun informed him that she had not missed his reaction, but he saw something lurking in the ancient eyes. Was that amusement? Tha old hag is winding me up! he realized, and snorted. His respect for the ancient being grudgingly rose upon realizing the old coot had a sense of humor.

"I am glad to hear it. We can begin the ritual as soon as we procure an artifact from Miaka's world, which will act as a gateway."

"But Taiitsukun, where will we find such an item?" Chichiri queried, scratching his head. "Miaka took all her belongings back with her, no da."

"Not all," Taiitsukun answered, staring intently at the hot-headed bandit. He flinched. How'd she know? he panicked, wondering if Taiitsukun had also figured out why he'd kept the memento from the miko's time in Konan. His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to out him, but she remained silent and unblinking in her gaze. Aww, fuck it all.

Tasuki reached into his pocket and removed the scrap that had been his constant companion since Miaka's return to her own world. "I, uh, found this back at Mt. Reikaku, ya know, after she left an' all. I thought she might want it back one day, so I, uh, kept it. In case. Ya know."

Chichiri's eyes widened at the small blue strip of cloth with the bow on the end. Even after all this time, it was easily recognizable as part of Miaka's school uniform. Tasuki's features were carefully schooled in indifference, but the tips of his ears blazed as red as his hair. Don't say anything, let it go, it's not important now...

When Chichiri spoke, his voice was bland. "Good thinking, no da. Will this work?"

Taiitsukun inclined her head as she took the bow from Tasuki's outstretched hand. "It will indeed. Now concentrate and don't move. I'm going to transport you to someone I believe may be of help."