"Yes, the wording of this policy is definitely an improvement. The third clause, here--"

The advisers gathered in the council room stared at the Emperor with concern as he stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, finger poised over the line of the scroll that he had just been referring to.

"Emperor?"

There was no response. Hotohori's grey eyes were focussed somewhere beyond those in the room, his face slowly draining of all colour.

"What is it, Emperor?"

The Chief Adviser's request was more insistent this time, but was met with the same lack of response, and a low, frightened murmur ran around the room.

"Hotohori-sama!"

Hotohori wasn't sure how he could describe the sensation to somebody who hadn't felt it themselves.

It was like an icy jolt that ran through him, paralysing him with the terror of knowing something terrible was happening - and being unable to do anything at all about it. His hand clenched into a fist of its own volition. For an instant he was caught short of breath, and then the tightness in his chest relaxed once more, and he drew a shaky gasp.

He realised that his Chief Adviser was hovering next to him, calling his name, and he blinked, and slowly refocussed upon him.

"I.. I'm sorry, I..."

"Hotohori-sama, what is it? Are you unwell?"

He struggled to pull himself together, to shake off the dread fear that had gripped him.

"No, no, I am well. It isn't me, it's something else, somewhere--"

How frustrating it was to be sequestered in his Palace, safe and out of harm's way, when he knew his friends were in danger. Their quest had taken them so far away, and he alone was forced to remain behind, to safeguard his country. He knew it was necessary, but it made his heart ache to be so helpless, when he knew that something was wrong, terribly wrong.

As he continued to try and compose himself, he was aware that his Chief Adviser had called for a short break in the policy review. He had also summoned a servant girl, who handed Hotohori a steaming cup, with head bowed. He took it gratefully, but without his usual smile of thanks. Beneath the charcoal grey of his hair, his face had taken on an ashen hue.

What was it -- who was it? Was it Miaka? Was she in danger? Hurt, frightened, injured? The feeling was fading now, into a strange kind of numbness.

A few minutes later, the cup was almost empty, and he felt a little better with the sweet tea warming him. Perhaps he was letting his imagination run away with him, after all. If something had happened to Miaka, surely Chichiri would have let him know. But nothing could happen to Miaka. Not with six out of seven of her Seishi watching over her.

"Shall we reconvene now?" His Chief Adviser asked, noting that some colour had returned to the Emperor's cheeks.

Hotohori nodded, managing a semblance of his usually serene smile. "I am sorry for the delay." He turned back to the table.

And then suddenly, there was nothing.

The absence hit him like a blow. He hadn't even been aware that there had been that something within him, until it was so abruptly taken. A warmth and sense of joy that was suddenly simply - gone - like a candleflame extinguished by a puff of breath.

The cup slipped from his hand to shatter upon the floor.

"Emperor!!" His Chief Adviser was staring at him with a panicked expression.

"Nuriko..." Hotohori whispered. Somehow, he knew. Whatever it was that linked the Seishi to their Miko must have linked them together, as well. Because he knew, somehow, that there was no longer anybody in the world with quite that mix of teasing boldness, long-lashed purple eyes, and iron strength of will that Nuriko had possessed.

"Hotohori-sama? What is it, what has happened?"

They wanted answers. And it was his duty to give them, no matter how bitter. But how could he put into words this feeling of total and utter loss?

After a moment, he rose stiffly, gathering his dignity around him as he gathered his robes, hands buried within the comforting folds. His dark eyes shone with tears that he could not let himself shed. Not yet. He drew in a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was steady.

"Let it be known that the Seishi of Suzaku known as Nuriko is dead."

A mixture of reactions greeted this announcement, gasps of surprise, disbelief, and some of fear. Murmurs rippled through the assembled council. The Miko of Suzaku had brought hope to so many; her Seishi were regarded as warriors of myth, invulnerable, in the minds of the people.

If one of Suzaku's chosen had fallen, it was an ill omen indeed.

It seemed none of those assembled knew what to say to comfort him. One gathered his courage, making a low bow. "We are deeply sorry, Emperor. We grieve with you for Suzaku's Seishi."

Hotohori turned away from the expression of sympathy. Suzaku's Seishi. That was all Nuriko had been to these people.

He knew that it was the flamboyant, forthright Princess that most people would remember Nuriko as. Stunningly beautiful as a woman, he had drawn the attention of so many, all save the one he had truly wanted. But it wasn't the Princess dripping with pearls and witty retorts that Hotohori would remember.

It was the slim, braided boy that Nuriko had later returned to that stuck in his mind. A presence that had always been nearby, giggling with Miaka or tormenting Tamahome, or sometimes, simply watching him silently when he thought Hotohori wasn't watching.

Nuriko had loved him. Nuriko, whose affections he had ignored, become impatient with, and pushed aside, had always loved him. He'd been so busy pining over Miaka that he'd never taken the time to acknowledge Nuriko's feelings for what they were. A gift. And now it was too late.

It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never even thanked Nuriko for everything that he'd done for him.

And now Nuriko would never be beside him again, would never irritate him, never drag infatuated bandits from his ankles, never destroy pieces of the Palace accidentally, never sigh at him from a distance, never be there to laugh with, fight beside, love - again.

A world without Nuriko in it suddenly seemed very cold indeed.

"Emperor--"

He couldn't deal with this, not now.

"This council is suspended until further notice. I am going to the temple, to mourn my fellow Seishi - and my friend. I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Yes, Hotohori-sama."

He swept out of the room before he lost his composure completely. He was the Emperor, he could show no weakness in front of the people he ruled. But as he flowed towards the Temple, robes trailing and snapping behind him, he let the tears spill down his cheeks, his head held high.

There was no shame in grieving for Nuriko. None at all.