Flame of Recca: Swimming in the Dark Waters

Disclaimer: This isn't mine obviously. I wouldn't be in fan fiction writing if it were. Anyways... I know that most of the characters are really acting out of character but hey... this is a fanfic???

and of course...what is a dream? It is after reality.

Part 1: Shallow End

There wasn't even time for panic to set in as the flail swung dangerously close to him. His grip tightened around the Ensui, knowing that he cannot dodge this one yet again. He was too tired, and his right leg throbbed with pain from the wound he received earlier on. His jeans were already sticky with blood and he had left a trail on the floor that glittered like liquid ruby. He wanted to close his eyes, but thought it too cowardly. If death should come, he decided, he was to view it like a man. Like a damn Hokage.

The man laughed softly, eyes glittering with hostile light. Tokiya's shoes scraped against the concrete floor in an effort to remain standing as the impact of the metal ball and the Ensui pushed him backwards. He tried to regain his footing even as white hot pain claimed his arms, making him moan out loud. His movements caused his wound to throb more painfully and his vision blurred. Cursing, he stuck the Ensui on the ground to help him stand up.

"Why don't you give up now, Mikagami?" the man called out. The metal ball lay by his feet, momentarily immobile. He held out his hand in a gesture of peace. "Let me have the Ensui and I'll stop. I'll let you live."

The boy laughed bitterly. "You'll let me die." He corrected. He couldn't even see the man now. All he could see was his sister's face. The way she looked before she died. And to think that her death had been for naught. That the Ensui would now be lost to them forever. What would he tell her, when they meet again? He charged, slipping on his own blood. His right arm was broken, so he transferred the Ensui to his left. Neesan, I'm coming.

He could smell wood burning, even hear the crackling of the fire. The air felt cool and invigorating like it does after rainfall. The distant song of the frogs accented his impression. He opened his eyes slowly, almost afraid of what he would see. He frowned at his unbidden fear. He didn't know why he should be afraid.

His glazed eyes landed on the rough wood beams of the ceiling. He was inside the house. How surprising. He had been in a sort of open place. There was a man . He moaned , head throbbing painfully. Had he hurt himself there? He couldn't remember

"My Lord, please don't try to get up."

He looked around for the source of that voice. The sound surprised him, but it's smoothly brisk tone was most comforting. There was a lot of love and anxiety in that tone and it warned him more than the fire had. It was then that he noticed a woman squatting near the fire, ladling some broth into a roughly made bowl.

"Who are you?" he asked immediately regretting that because her green eyes filled with hurt as the words come out of his lips. He obeyed her behest and remained on the soft pallet, trying to ignore the way his whole body ached. Images o a metal ball flashed across his mind, along with remembered pain. He watched her absently as she rose, coming close to him with slow graceful steps. A very pretty woman. Her simple green kimono revealed her excellent figure and contrasted nicely with her long plum colored hair. It was when she knelt down before him that he noticed the tears that streamed from her eyes.

"The fever has reached your head." She murmured, placing the bowl beside him, but making no move to feed him in her grief. "It has affected your memory, my lord, so that you cannot remember me – who loves you with all my breaking heart. I whom you hold most dearest to my heart..."

He wiped away her tears tenderly with his left hand, because the other lay broken by his side. "I am sorry." He said, inadequately. "How- I mean, I cannot remember anything- but I feel the love that you have described. Truly, I do."

She shook her head. " I am satisfied, my lord. You are alive. It is what matters." She then lifted the broth to his lips. "Drink no, please. You must regain your strength. Have you in need of water?"

The broth burned his throat pleasantly. Water trickling down- hardening into clear ice. His eyes widened and he sat up awkwardly, gasping at the pain and spilling the broth all over. "The Ensui, where is it?"

Her green eyes couldn't meet his blue ones. She pushed him back on the bed gently without answering, removing the wet blanket from him and gathering the pieces of the broken bowl. When he repeated his anguished question, she sighed. "It is gone. It had been the enemy jonin's orders that it be taken away.

"It cannot be gone..." he hissed, angrily. Frustrated at being so helpless. " Mifuyu..."

"Yes," she said, sharply. "What about Mifuyu, my lord? What has she to do with this?" she was clutching the bedcovers against her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks freely now. "Do you remember her name when you have forgotten mine? If your love for her weighed far more than yours for me- why is it that you had let her go? Why bother me in my peaceful life."

He wisely said nothing, although her sobs weighed down his heart heavily. Mifuyu. Wasn't she his sister? Someone very close. And this woman, who was she? She looked familiar. Was she indeed his wife?

She knelt down yet again before him with a wet sponge. He shivered pleasurably as she wiped the spilled broth from his chest gently. She looked on the brink of tears' but was too ladylike to give in to her hurt as she was tending to her lord. His love for her came to the fore, making him forget about Mifuyu. And the Ensui. "Do I hurt you, my lord?"

"What is my name?" he asked her. "What is yours?"

She smiled faintly. " Yes. You are Tokiya Mikagami, my lord. I am your- your wife. I am called Fuuko." She stood abruptly, hiding her face as she could not hold back her tears any longer.

Fuuko. That was familiar as well. But the love he felt for this wife wasn't a part of that memory. He sighed. "Fuuko- hanata- come here." He whispered.

"What is it, my lord?" she said, turning back but not daring to come near.

He yawned. He was drowsy. "I love you, my warrior. My brave wife."

She smiled again and his heart skipped a beat. "Rest now, hanata."

"Mi-chan" sharp cries filled the arena. Recca Hanabishi held Yanagi Sakoshita in a tight embrace so as to break her fall. But no one held on to Fuuko Kirisawa and it was she , with Kaoru Koganei who rushed to her teammate's aid.

"Give me the Ensui." Amano said, sharply. "It was part of the deal." He reminded them. Spectators cheered him on, unaware of the sad state of their idol's opponent as they basked in his victory. Fuuko glared at the man balefully. She knew that Tokiya had given his word and he would not like to break his vow, but she knew just how it would feel. It would break her heart if she loses her Fuujin. She was almost glad that he wasn't conscious now.

Half heartedly, she went towards the prostrate form of Tokiya, noting the bruises that covered his slim frame and the blood that had dried on his jeans. He looked soyoungin his pain. She bit her lip. Holding his hand tenderly, she extracted the sword from his grip. The blade lost form just as her hand touched the handle, spilling water all over the arena. "I'm sorry, Mi-chan." She whispered. "I'll win it back for you, I promise."

The medics arrived and placed Tokiya's prone body on a stretcher. Yanagi came forward to talk to them. Fuuko did not like the way one of them shook his head. As well as the way Yanagi cried. She gritted her teeth in anger. " Hold on there, Mi-chan" she whispered. "I'll win it back for you, I promise."

Amino laughed mirthlessly. "And how are you going to do that, little girl, when your teammate, who's stronger than you are lies there half dead?"

Fuuko's green eyes glazed with anger. "Easy." She said, sharply. "Cause my teammate there had put up a good fight and you're not as fresh as I am."

"Tokiya sama."

He opened his eyes to her lovely face. She peered at him anxiously with warm brown eyes, her long brown hair making a curtain around them as she bent closer. "Mifuyu. I'm sorry." He muttered, blushing at her proximity. She was alive. The thought made him forget his pain.

"It doesn't matter, Tokiya sama." She smiled shyly. "What matters is that you are here, with me. Hanata..." she broke off, touching his face gently. "I am so glad you are alive. That you have not died. The Ensui- we can always regain it. But your life we cannot have back."

"She is right, my lord." Fuuko's voice cut through the silence Mifuyu's statement preceded. Tokiya looked at her in surprise, realizing just then that she had been standing by the door all along. The thought disturbed him. He had the feelin that the words Mifuyu just said, as well as the other woman's caress hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. " Are you hungry, my lord?"

Mifuyu arose. "I must go, Tokiya sama. Maybe I will visit later."

Fuuko roused herself from deep thought and bowed to the older woman. "Must you go, Mifuyu san? Can you not join us for tea?" she said politely. No one would know just how jealous she was of her husband's old lover, Fuuko was too much of a Japanese woman. As silentand as secretive as deep running brook.

"Oh no. I'm sorry, Fuuko." Mifuyu murmured, somewhat flustered. Her hand was trembling as she reached out for her parasol. "But I must indeed be going."

Tokiya looked at his wife as the woman left. She was looking miserable again. He wanted to touch her. To somewhat allay her tears. But he did not know what to do. He sighed.

"Are the wounds hurting you, my lord?" she asked, jumping to attention suddenly. " Hokuto had gathered the herbs for your wound- and I have set your arm, whilst you were sleeping. Perhaps by a couple of days- you'll be able to move about." She approached the low table where a pestle rested inside a bowl. After crushing what Tokiya guessed to be Hokuto's herbs, she added a few drops water.

He flinched as she took away the bandages that bound his wounds. She sensed this with a smile, although her eyes were still fixed on her activity. "Don't worry, my lord. This will not hurt." She stuck two fingers in the bowl and rubbed the concoction gently on his wounds.

Her soft caresses produced contractions at the regions of his groin and he moaned softly. "Fuuko..." Dear God, he was half dead and he wanted her.

"Am I hurting you, my lord?" she sounded worried.

"No." he muttered, seizing her hand with both of his own and kissing it tenderly. "No, hanata."

She gasped, the sound soft against the distant shouts of the village children, the soft clinks of metal against metal from the nearby blacksmith's. "My lord." He wondered if she would cry again. Sorrow seemed to wrap her as much as her kimono did. Maybe that was what he loved about her. Or the way she hid her misery with a passively polite countenance. Her lips were soft as they met his and he repeated his moan.

He wanted to wrap her with his hands, protect her from her own misery, but knowing that in his present state, he could not offer her anything. His good hand closed around hers, knowing how his grip might be hurting her, but she didn't complain. His tongue touched her pliant lips and she obeyed, opening for him.

They were both out of breath when the kiss ended. She withdrew without a word, tending his wounds again as if nothing happened.

"Fuuko..." he began, not bothering to fight the urge and holding her hand as tightly as before. "I should have said it first, it was you who needed so to hear it..."

"No, my lord. What you have done is fine by me. I am but your servant in love."she shook her head in gentle negation. "That you are here before me is enough. If it is Mifuyu whom you need... then I will- I will abide by your wishes. That I know that you are safe... you are alive... that is enough."

"It is not enough." He said angrily. Her servility annoyed him even as his love for her burned so brightly it hurt. "Why must you treat yourself like that? I never married you to be my slave. I love you."he sighed. " You are my equal in love. We are both slaves."

"You never had said such things to me." She said, wistfully. "You have changed, my lord." She took a roll of bandages from inside her sleeve and started to bind his arm.

"Call me by my name, hanata." He brushed stray strands of plum colored hair from her face tenderly. His arm was numbed by the herbs for which he was endlessly thankful.

"Why?" she muttered, frowning. "Because Mifuyu calls you so" he realized he loved her petulant expression. It hadn't made so much of an impression on him when- he paused. When what? Images of Fuuko fighting flashed across his mind. Her pain. He felt a familiar pang in his chest. He didn't like it when men hurt her. She was too womanly. And it was she who needed his apologies.

"No, she calls me 'lord' like you do. I want you to call me by my name that no one else calls me." He put in. Mi-chan, hold on .He frowned. " Did you say something, hanata?"

The sun was barely touching the tips of the trees and the world was for the moment silent. It was too early for human sounds and too late for the woods to whisper. Tokiya leaned his head on a post, the floor was so raised from the ground that his feet barely touched the stone steps leading to the house.

He felt something warm on his shoulders. "You might get cold outside, my- Tokiya." Fuuko said, tucking the coverlet firmly around him. "But I am so glad that you can still enjoy the dawn like you used to do." She sat beside him quietly. Tokiya could smell her elusive perfume mingled with the sweet tang of the morning wind and the smell of soup cooking from inside. He never knew what perfume she uses. It was one of her unfathomable secrets.

"We can enjoy it together." He put in, drawing her closer to him. And placing the coverlet on her shoulders so that it encompassed them both. She sighed. "You know, hanata, I remember a girl very much like you... but I didn't love her. She looked ,like you and acted a little like you, but I didn't love her as much as I love you."

"Why is that?"she said, softly.

"I don't know." He lied. He knew why. His dead sister was the answer. He was so wrapped up in her death he didn't notice anything much. But he realized just how much he can love Fuuko. His warrior. His head ached. He was married to her now, wasn't he? Wasn't she the same girl?

"Perhaps you loved her"she murmured absently, snuggling closer to his body's warmth. "you just didn't realize"

The thought struck him. "Yes, perhaps that is so."

Author's Note: try that for whimsical bear with me please. And this comes from someone who never liked fushigi yugi. /wah