#her temples is thin? ? and she has faint crows feet. and yeah that's it

[macroglossus]

jesus christ you'd think turning 30 was a death sentence

[nancywheelxr]

Kara and Brainy being captured together and realizing they have feelings for each other

Gosh this grew way bigger than I expected. Hope you enjoy it, anon!

Kara punches the glass doors again.

It’s useless, she knows. It didn’t work the first dozen times and it’s not going to work now, but going through the motions, burning through the adrenaline, the ache on her knuckles, it all makes her feel a little better, a little more in control.

“Supergirl?” his voice is cracking, but it’s there, and Kara rushes to the wall between cells, as close as she possibly can. “Where are– oh, no. We were captured.”

It’s not a question, she can see him remembering their fight this afternoon– the Children of Liberty surrounding them, so many of them, faceless with their masks, and she had gotten separated from Brainy, and she couldn’t see him in the sea of people, and then suddenly someone had dragged him forward, unconscious, pressed a gun to his head, and he had been so pale, blood trickling down his temple and disappearing on his black shirt, and his heartbeat had been so faint, so when the man yelled at her to give up, Kara had simply raised her arms behind her head and let them cuff her.

“How’s your head?” She asks gently, fingers itching to reach for him, “they hit you pretty bad there.”

His hands fly to the dry patch of blood, coming up thankfully clean. “It’s healed. But I’m afraid I might be slightly concussed,” he frowns, gingerly touching the back of his head, where Kara remembers he had hit his head on the bench when they carelessly tossed him in the cell. “What about you? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she shakes her head, glancing at the walls, “but I still can’t get us out of here. I think they’ve got inhibitors like the ones in Shelley Island. Are you sure you’re okay? There was so much blood, I– just, I was so worried, you were out of it for so long, I thought–”

“I’ll be fine,” Brainy reassures her, standing up shakily. He needs a minute to steady himself, before shuffling to sit in front of her, leaning against the back wall. The glass between them is no more than four inches thin, but it feels terribly far from where she’s standing. “I heal faster than humans, the concussion will be gone soon. Do you know where we are?”

“No,” Kara sighs, mirroring his position and leaning back, hugging her knees to her chest. “The van was lined with lead. It’s like– they are scarily good at this.”

“Indeed,” he raises his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. The crease on his brows deepens, “I cannot connect with anything either. These cells must be blocking any signals from coming in. It’s as if they had been prepared for me as well.”

“I don’t like this,” she shakes her head, “Lockwood is in jail, they should be scattering, not upping their game.”

Before any answer could be given, the door at the end of the hall is thrown open, three men stalking past it. They all look more or less the same– tall, burly, scowly. Their leader, the one with a scar above his right brow, steps closer to their cells, grinning, “now that’s a sight to see,” he crows, “not so super now, are we? But don’t worry, Blondie. We’re not here for you this time. We just wanna test a new toy our sponsor sent us.”

Dread pools on her stomach and Kara is on her feet before Scarface over there can finish pressing a button on a device he brought. She tries to run forward, but a high-pitched noise pierces the room. It seems to be too high for humans to hear, but even as she falls to her knees, Kara sees Brainy stumbling too, his image glitching and shimmering as his image inducer gives out.

And if this is hurting her ears, it looks so much more painful for Brainy, Kara has to– nothing. Like this, barely able to stand on her own, there’s nothing she can do.

“So it does work, uh?” Scarface laughs, turning on his heel to leave, his minions in tow.

She waits just until the ground feels steady under her feet, ignoring the ringing echoing on her head. “Brainy, oh my god, you’re bleeding again–”

“It’s– well, it’s not quite alright, but it does look worse than it is,” he’s breathing heavily, and when he coughs, she can see the blood on his palms. “There are more pressing things to worry about. Did you see the logo, on the device?”

Unfortunately. “Yeah. That’s not good, we need to tell Alex and the others.”

“They talked about a new sponsor, but why would L-Corp– why would Lena do this?”

Kara feels her own face hardening, “no, not L-Corp. Lexcorp.” This is really not good, they have to warn Lena, too. “But Brainy, they don’t seem to care what we hear. And they weren’t wearing masks this time. You know what that means, don’t you?”

He coughs again, wiping the blood from under his nose. “It means they’re planning to kill us.”

*

There’s a tiny window above her head, allowing natural light to spill inside their cells. Kara watches the sunlight move across the room as the hours pass, disappearing into pale moonlight by the end of the day. And then, she watches it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The days pass in a blur of awful helplessness. Without her powers and with little to no contact with their captors, Kara isn’t sure what she can do. There’s no one she can try to talk down, there’s no superpower to help her kick down doors. Their food comes only once a day, and the water too, only enough to keep them feebly alive.

One thing is for sure, these people are much better at kidnapping than the last crew.

“How long until Alex finds us, do you think?” She sighs, leaning against the wall between the cells, her legs stretched in front of her.

“No more than a day, I’d say,” Brainy guesses, the same guess he’s been answering her every time she asks. They’re sitting back-to-back, so Kara can’t see his face, but she imagines it must be as despondent as she feels.

“We need to come up with a plan of our own,” Kara suggests, awfully aware their time is running out. “Before they decide it’s not worth it to keep us here anymore.”

“They must need us for something,” he says, voice flat, “or we would not still be alive.”

At the very least, Brainy looks better, she concedes. His concussion did heal itself with time, and so did his cough, and his skin isn’t so pale anymore, but Kara hates to see the strain on his eyes. She absolutely loathes to see him hurting, and she hates even more that there’s nothing she can possibly do. He’s here, so close they would be touching if it weren’t for the glass, and she can feel the warmth radiating from him. Glass is a good heat conductor, she can almost hear him saying.

“That’s a smart one, uh?” Scarface is back, slamming a magazine against the glass door to her cell with a delighted smile and she hates herself for not hearing him approaching. It’s a Catco magazine, and Kara’s heart cracks at the cover. No more Age of Heroes? Supergirl MIA! “I can’t have you popping up dead, now can I? Oh no, then everyone would be crying their heart outs for you. I don’t need a martyr. No, I need you alive and breathing, so at the end of the week, you can tell all those nice people you could have stopped all these terrible, terrible fires. That shootout in City Hall? Shame you didn’t feel like stopping that one, uh? Yeah, wonder how your little fan club will feel after that.”

“Okay, look,” Kara sees the opportunity there, and scrambles up to snag it, “you want to discredit me right? You don’t need him here for that, he’s got nothing to do with this. Just let him go, and I’ll do it. I’ll say whatever you want me to say– just let him go.”

Scarface laughs a full-bodied laugh that echoes all around like nails scratching on a chalkboard. “You ever played poker, Blondie? Oh man, you’d be terrible at it. Rule Number One, never show your hand, man!” He shakes his head fondly, as if he had been dealing out real advice for her. “See, I already know you will do whatever I tell you to. Because pretty boy over here is my insurance. You think I’m gonna part with my insurance? Of course not, especially now that you just told me how much you care! I was banking on your whole self-righteous moral gig before, but boy, oh boy, did I hit the jackpot with this one– it’s personal for you!”

The magazine slides to the floor as he leaves, still chuckling.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Brainy says as soon as the man is out of earshot. He’s standing now too, face scarily blank, and Kara wonders if it’s too late to gather back her cards, hide them back up her sleeve along with her heart. “What if he had accepted your offer? It would have jeopardized your work as Supergirl– my well-being is not worth it. When the time comes, you must promise you will not do as he asks.”

“Brainy, what–”

“Promise me.”

“What? No, I will not,” she shoots back, stalking to the glass wall, “what are you talking about? Brainy, my reputation, Supergirl’s reputation, I can rebuild. With time, the people will trust me again– I did it before, I can do it as many times as I need. You being safe– that’s all that matters right now.”

His eyes are wide, and she can almost see the gears turning behind them, parsing through her words. “I don’t– the man with the scar on his right brow said it was personal for you. What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been calling him Scarface in my head, actually.”

“Oh, yes, that is a better one!”

Kara’s ticking clock just got a new deadline, and she supposes now that she’s aware of this thing herself, it wouldn’t take long until Brainy figures it out on his own. She never learned how not to wear her heart on her sleeve. And besides, if they don’t make it– she might not get another chance to say this. “Well, first of all, my decision on this would be the same no matter who was here with me. It could be a freaking stranger– any life is worth more than the public opinion,” she swallows, fidgeting with her cape, before taking a deep breath, steeling herself, “that being said. When he says personal, he means I’m in love with you.”

A whole minute goes by in silence. Kara wonders if she broke Brainy. Then, she wonders if he’s wishing he would have been kidnapped with somebody else, someone that isn’t stupidly making him more uncomfortable than those ratty, lumpy mattresses. Then, he speaks, “and is that what you mean?”

She smiles, relieved, “yeah, duh. Even out kidnappers can tell,” her heart is fluttering as she presses a hand to the glass, “it took me a while to realize it, and I kind of hate that I’m saying this for the first time in a prison cell, but Brainy. I’m in love with you.”

He raises his own hand, pressing against hers in answer, just a few inches away from touching. “I wish the circumstances were better,” he says, “I wish I had better words to offer you, but until then. Know this, my heart is yours, Kara Danvers. I love you as well.”

In a perfect world, this would be the moment they would kiss and fireworks would burst in the sky and everything would be alright. But in reality, Kara can only wish fiercely for a happy ending yet.

“Brainy,” she decides, “we are getting out of here. Scarface talked big game about not showing his cards, but he did give us something to work with.”

Brainy raises an eyebrow.

“He can’t kill either of us, not until after the weekend. When they come to move us, that’s when we escape,” a spark of hope is igniting a wildfire on her chest. Now that she has a plan of action, now that she knows this thing between them is real and possible and so, so close– Kara has never been more alive. Right now, she could reach for the stars.

“It will be difficult,” Brainy reminds her, but his voice sounds just as sure as hers, “they’ve defeated us before. But it could work.”

“It will work,” she states, no room for doubt. Then, because it still feels as if she’s melting inside, “but you know, I could really use seeing your smile right now.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but his lips curl in the most beautiful smile in the whole wide world if you ask Kara.

“Now I know, everything is going to be okay.”

*

They never make it to the end of the week.

It couldn’t be more than a day when even Kara’s powerless hearing picks up on the commotion outside. She stands to the attention, nods at Brainy who is doing the same in his cell. “Looks like it will be sooner rather than later.”

“Good luck,” she bites her lips, “and be careful.”

The door at the end of the hall swings open and half a dozen agents of liberty fill the room, throwing their cells open. “Change of plans,” one of them says, dragging her out by the arm, “time to sing, roach.”

There are guns pointed at them, and somewhere there’s a dog that just won’t stop barking, and the commotion outside is still raging on, and in the middle of all the chaos, Kara looks away and meets Brainy’s gaze. He nods back. They spring into motion and she has to trust he can handle himself in the fight.

A bullet grazes her shoulder. She punches someone’s face. Her side hurts. A punch to the stomach. It goes by in a flurry of motion, her training kicking in automatically, muscle memory taking over. Kara makes a mental note to thank her sister for all that hand-to-hand in the Kryptonite room.

The agents of liberty might have been better equipped this time, but between the two of them, they still fall down one by one.

“We did it?” her voice echoes in the hall.

“We did it,” his arms wrap around her waist.

And the fireworks might just be an automatic gun emptying its clip somewhere upstairs, and her shoulder is aching where it bleeds, and Brainy has blood on his temple– and none of it matters, because they’re finally, finally, free and he’s kissing her and she’s kissing him and that’s all there is.

Until the cocking of gun, gunshot loud in the silent room.

“Well, well, well, sorry to interrupt,” Scarface says, not smiling for once, gun aimed steadily at them, “but I’m afraid there’s been a change of schedule. Let’s see how well you wear martyrdom, shall we?”

Seriously? is all Kara can think while staring down the barrel of his gun, hasn’t it been enough?

The safety is off. She sees his finger ready on the trigger. Time slows down. And–

“Supergirl,” Alex is suddenly there, throwing something high in the air, and the whole place burst with blinding light. 

Yellow sun grenade.

Kara grins, feeling the rush of power thrumming once again underneath her skin, and god, she puts herself in front of Brainy, the rain of bullets bouncing off harmlessly off her. “What took you guys so long?” She laughs, ridiculously relieved, “this place has the worst room service.”

“What? It’s not my fault, these idiots kept setting buildings on fire,” Alex shrugs, faking nonchalance even as she pulls her into a tight hug, “I was so worried.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” she reassures her sister, “we’re fine.”

“Thank you for the rescue, Director Danvers,” Brainy comes to stand beside them, wheezing when Alex hugs him just as tight, “but there is much that needs to be discussed. We have gathered quite a bit of intel.”

“Well, silver linings, I guess?” Alex makes a face, “I need to check on my team, but you two– stay here. It’ll take me two minutes, don’t you dare move, hear me?” She leaves, grumbling, “god knows I don’t want either of you out of my sight for the next ten years.”

Finally, Kara breathes.

“I think that cut might need stitches,” she says softly, fingers tracing gingerly along the edges, “how do you feel about needles?”

Brainy catches her hand, gently turning it around to kiss her inner wrist, just below her pulse point, and she shivers. “Terribly,” he says, eyes shining mischievously, “I guess you will have to hold my hand until it’s over.”

“Gladly,” she tells him, “and I’ll kiss it better after.”

He smiles.

And Kara thinks, yeah, everything will be okay.

[mintaka14]

Red Sails

 Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost, tell me

Will the stars align?

Will heaven step in? Will it save us from our sin? Will it?

[Natural: Imagine Dragons]

 When Marin opened her eyes again, she found herself staring up into the timbers of a cabin ceiling, with a silk and lacquered wood lantern swaying gently from the beam above her.

She closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her face, and made a faint moan of dismay.

“Argh! How humiliating,” she muttered, and started to sit up, only to be gently pushed back by Xuelian’s firm hand.

“Take it slowly,” Xuelian recommended. “You don’t want to make yourself dizzy by sitting up too quickly. You had us worried there for a moment.”

“I have to go get the Chronicles,” Marin said, sitting up a little more slowly, and swinging her feet over the edge of the narrow bunk she’d been lying on.

“You have to have something to eat and a rest,” Xuelian vetoed. She pointed to a table where Marin could see steamed buns waiting, and a bowl of fish stew that smelled heavily of spices and rice wine. There was a plate of thin melon slices next to it. Meixing was curled up on a small couch next to the table, nibbling on one of the buns, and Marin realised just how ravenous she was, but her head spun a little as she tried to stand up.

As she staggered, Meixing shifted abruptly as if ready to leap up from the couch to grab her, but Marin sat down again with a thump.

“Eat.” Xuelian handed her the fish stew. “The books can wait until I’ve seen to those scratches of yours. You can’t go out there like that, anyway,” she added, nodding at Marin’s torn gown and the shredded silk gauze undergarment. “Meixing, I need you to play seamstress while I look after Marin’s injuries.”

The princess sighed, but uncoiled herself from the couch and helped Marin out of the heavily-embroidered red gown.

Xuelian examined her face closely, frowning slightly.

“This is not your fault,” she said firmly, divining the reason for the look in Marin’s eyes. She nodded at the bowl in Marin’s hand. “Eat, and then you’ll feel much better.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Marin said desperately. “What else am I doing here, if not to summon Suzaku and fix things? And I’m failing spectacularly on both counts.”

“You take your sense of responsibility a little too far sometimes,” Xuelian said, rummaging through her medical case. “You did not cause the ceremony to fail.”

“How can you be sure? We don’t know what happened.”

“But you’ll find out.” Xuelian tipped one of the tiny ceramic jars into her bowl, and reached for another one, measuring out a careful pinch of the powder in it. “If anyone can work it out, it’s you.”

Xuelian ground the powders together with careful, unhurried movements, and dribbled a little water into it until she had a paste.

“Hold still. This may sting.”

She touched the mixture to the gouge marks on Marin’s neck, and Marin sucked in a hiss of pain.

“There must have been other times when the ceremony didn’t summon the god,” Xuelian said, and made a sound of annoyance when Marin jerked upright.

“Xuelian! You’re a genius. There was something in the Suzaku Scroll, I’m sure of it.” Marin started to her feet, only to be pushed down again by Xuelian’s firm hand.

“And it will still be there after I’ve finished treating you, and after Meixing has finished with the mending. You can’t go charging out there dressed like that,” Xuelian pointed out, gesturing at the shredded and completely transparent undergarment that Marin was still wearing.

“Although I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind,” she teased slyly, and Marin blushed, subsiding again. Marin reached for a slice of melon.

“So our unexpected newcomer is from your world,” Xuelian said, turning her attention to the deep scratches on Marin’s arm. “Interesting.”

“Troubling,” Marin amended around a mouthful of melon.

“I think he’s gorgeous,” Meixing said dreamily. “And I’ve never met anyone with hair that colour before.”

Xuelian dabbed more of the mixture on Marin’s arm.

“Has there ever been a case in any of the records of a man from the other world coming here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Marin frowned, trying to think back. “I don’t think I’ve come across any.” She heaved another big sigh. “And he’s yet another problem I need to fix.”

“I wouldn’t mind solving that problem,” Meixing offered, shaking out the red gown and eyeing it critically. “The hem is still a mess, but I’ve fixed the worst of it.”

“Nicely done, Meixing,” Xuelian said approvingly, and Meixing made a face.

“I may not like it, but I can sew and embroider. Her Imperial Majesty expects no less of her daughters.”

They both waited patiently while Marin quickly finished eating and put her gown back on, and Marin pretended that she didn’t hear Xuelian’s sigh of professional disapproval when she headed for the door. She had a problem to research, and rest could wait.

~~~~~

When Marin fainted, Zifeng caught the Priestess as she crumpled. He scooped her into his arms and whisked her away to one of the cabins before Daisuke or anyone else could react. There was nothing for Daisuke to do but wait and join the cluster of companions who had retreated to the stern of the ship.

He made his way around the coils of rope and barrels, and the row of tiny wooden lifeboats lashed to the bulwark, and dodged the sailors scurrying over the deck. Jing Yun gave him a nod of acknowledgement, but Zhu Yi’s eyes were fixed on the sky as Daisuke came to stand beside them. Daisuke followed his gaze, trying to make out what he was looking at, but all he could see was a handful of black specks marring the clear blue sky.

“Tengu,” Zhu Yi said distractedly. “The wingspan is a little wider, and crows wouldn’t have been able to follow us out this far.”

Daisuke squinted, but he was unable to make out any detail. Zhu Yi fingered the shaft of an arrow over his shoulder absently, as if tempted to put one through the wheeling flock in the distance, but his hand dropped away, and then the specks whirled and fell behind them in the distance.

“I’ve never been on the water before,” Jing Yun said, leaning against the ship’s bulwark. “Life is just full of interesting new things today. You come from Marin’s world? You don’t look like a priestess.”

Daisuke’s eyebrow lifted at that. “Should I be?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone except a priestess coming here from the other world,” Jing Yun said.

“How do we know he really does come from Marin’s world?” the young monk – Zhang Yong - said from the shadow of the cookhouse, where he’d been leaning against the wall. He came closer, looking Daisuke up and down, and Daisuke met the hostile inspection with a sharp amusement that only made the boy’s frown darker.

The big man who had wielded the combat plants in the temple said, “Zhang Yong,” in quiet rebuke, and the boy subsided.

The cabin door opened, and Zifeng emerged, but he didn’t join them. He climbed to the captain’s deck above, and stood contemplating the horizon, his white robes and dark hair billowing around him in the breeze. Daisuke watched the young lord, frowning slightly.

“What’s the story there?” he asked Jing Yun casually. “Are they a couple?”

“The Priestess and her Destined Warrior? The stories of Suzaku’s Priestess and the warrior Tamahome are legendary in this world. Those two,” Jing Yun dipped his chin in Zifeng’s direction, “have been written in the stars since the beginning of time.”

Daisuke gave a snort of derision. “Destined love? Seriously?”

“Their love is the source of Suzaku’s power. The god soars on the flames of their passion.” Jing Yun sounded as though he was reciting something he’d heard too many times to count, but there was a touch of dryness in his voice.

“This god of yours has really got you all wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he?” Daisuke said, just as drily. “Your Priestess in there didn’t seem like the kind to let a bird with delusions of grandeur play matchmaker for her.”

“Yeah, being matched up with a handsome and charming heir to an ancient marquisate… girls just hate that. “

“It sounds like you’re in love with him yourself,” Daisuke said.

“He’s not my type,” Jing Yun told him, and it almost looked like he flushed for a moment, his eyes flickering towards the stern of the ship where Zhu Yi was still watching the sky. “And Zifeng is devoted to the Priestess.”

“So don’t even look at the Priestess,” Zhang Yong muttered. “She’d never be interested in you.”

“I’m not looking at anything other than how to get back home again, so you really don’t have to worry about your precious Priestess,” he told the boy.

Anything Zhang Yong might have said was cut short as the ship plunged into the breaking waves beyond the harbour, and Daisuke’s stomach plunged with it. The wash of nausea disappeared as the wind hit his face, and he found himself grinning as the ship rose and fell, bracing his feet and leaning into the exhilarating motion.

The rough water was behind them and the steep movement of the ship had settled by the time the cabin door opened at the other end of the ship, and Marin emerged. Daisuke pushed away from the bulwark, dodging around the Priestess’ companions to fall in beside her.

“Look, it’s been fun, sugar, but I’d appreciate it if you could send me home now.”

Marin sighed. “I would if I knew how. Where did you put those books? You didn’t let them get wet, did you?”

Daisuke hauled the basket out from under the tarpaulin where he’d put them for safekeeping, and she headed back to the cabin with them.

“You do realise I’m missing out on my mother’s famous chicken curry here?”

Marin came to an abrupt stop and looked back at him over her shoulder.

“What day was it when you found the book?” she asked him.

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes impatiently. “The day,” she repeated with exaggerated care. “What. Date. Was. It?”

“The twenty-first of June.”

Marin drew in a breath and blew it out again. “It’s still the same day there. What time was it?”

“I don’t know, about eight at night? It was getting dark, but not dinner time yet.”

She dipped her head. “Okay,” she said to herself, “It’s okay. The library hasn’t even closed yet, then.”

“Something else you’re stressing about?” he asked.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that people might be missing you back at home? It was five o’clock on the twenty-first when I found the book. I’ve been in this world for four months, and I have no idea how much longer it’s going to be there before I get home or what the fallout is going to be if I’m missing for much longer. Knowing my mother, facing demons and gods here is the safer choice.”

Daisuke gave her a startled look. “Four months? Then how long -”

“I have no idea,” Marin said. “Here it’s been four months, there I’ve been gone a few hours apparently. I’ve been trying to calculate the time correlation between the worlds on the basis of the last priestess’ accounts of when she appeared and disappeared here, and how long she said she was back in our world, but if it’s been three hours there since I fell into the book then that blows my estimates out of the water.”

He followed her into the cabin, ducking under the low lintel. Meixing was curled up on a couch and gave him a bright smile as he entered, but Xuelian didn’t give him more than a quick, cool glance before turning back to the jars and bowls that she was fitting back into an old wooden chest. He could see it was full of jars and linen bags and drawers of some very odd looking herbs and dried pieces of fungus before Xuelian closed the lid on it.

Marin pulled out a scroll and unrolled it on the little dark wood table in the middle of the cabin, her entire attention fixed on it as the rest of the Seishi crowded through the door behind him. Daisuke found himself edged to the side, Zhu Yi’s bow digging into his ribs, and Zhang Yong muttering under his breath when Daisuke tried to move out of the way.

“It’s here somewhere. Xuelian reminded me that the previous priestess had a problem with her quest to summon Suzaku… Ah!”

Marin stabbed her finger at the script in front of her.

“Here.”

They all drew closer, leaning in a little to see.

“The summoning failed the first time,” Zifeng summarised, “because of a false Seishi, and Tai Yi Jun set them to gather the shentsopao which are the holy treasures of the priestesses of the Four Gods, so that they might have the power to summon Suzaku.”

“A false Seishi?”

There was some uneasy shifting and a few sidelong glances.

“Well, it’s not me,” Meixing said brightly. She tugged her collar down to reveal a glowing red birthmark like a scrawled character on her neck. It faded away, and she let her collar fall back into place.“I’ve had the mark of Hotohori since I was born. His Imperial Majesty named me for it himself, and it’s in my birth records.”

“And what a lovely name it is,” Daisuke said solemnly, glancing sideways to meet Marin’s exasperated look with a gleam of humour. “Beautiful Star. It suits you, Your Highness.”

Meixing lit up with a brilliant smile, and Marin shook her head, turning back to the scroll with a troubled frown.

“None of you are false,” she said without looking up. “I know that.”

“How do you know?” Daisuke interjected, and got a whole lot of black looks. “Look, all of this is very nice, but does it get me any closer to getting home again?”

“We don’t get home until Suzaku sends us,” Marin snapped. “So help figure out how to get Him here, or stop talking.”

Daisuke shrugged. “How do we do that? That ceremony you think you stuffed up?”

“That was supposed to bring Him here, yes. We tried to summon Suzaku, but nothing happened.”

“No, I did feel something,” Jing Yun contradicted from near the door. “Something happened, but Suzaku didn’t manifest.”

“What was supposed to happen?” Daisuke prodded.

“Once the Priestess brings all the seven Seishi together in Suzaku’s temple, and she performs the rites and incantations, being pure of mind and body, then Suzaku is supposed to appear and grant her three wishes,” Zhang Yong explained impatiently.        

“I must have got something wrong,” Marin muttered, still staring at the scroll.

“ ‘Pure in mind and body’? Daisuke repeated mockingly. He snorted. “Don’t tell me your god goes in for the whole virgin priestess thing too?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Marin asked the scroll in front of her sharply.

“No, no,” he said soothingly. “I’m just wondering what’s in this priestess thing for you? You have to keep your hands off anything fun and think pure thoughts. Although,” he added thoughtfully, flashing a glance at Zifeng, “maybe that’s not so hard if you’re stuck with Captain Amazing here.”

“It gets a lot easier if the alternative is someone like you,” Marin said without looking up, but Daisuke could see a hint of a blush creeping over her cheeks. “And my … love life… is not relevant.”

“It kind of is if the Great God Flaming Feathers is refusing to show up because you’re fooling around with His Lordship.”

Now Zifeng was glaring at him, and the chill in his gaze could have flash-frozen the sea around them.

“How dare you speak to the Priestess in that manner?”

“Zhao Zifeng is a perfect gentleman,” Marin cut in, her dark eyes narrowing at Daisuke as she finally looked up. “And there is no fooling around.”

“You poor thing,” Daisuke sympathised.

“You might have difficulty restraining yourself, but I don’t. And a moment of fooling around is certainly not worth risking the fate of the world for.”

“How do you know if you’ve never tried it?” He ignored the swell of outraged voices, grinning at her as her blush spread and she flashed a glance at the crowd around them.

“I am not having this conversation with someone I barely know.”

“Hey, you’re the one who called me here, sugar. All I’m saying is, you’re missing out on some good stuff because a bird – an actual bird – is telling you what you can and can’t do.”

Her chin came up and her eyes flamed with a sudden challenge that he found himself responding to.

“So you think I should let you tell me what I should be doing instead?” Marin asked tartly.

Daisuke laughed. “Fair call.”

“Strangely enough, I didn’t make choices about my love life on the basis of whether some god was going to show up, but now that I’m here, I have a responsibility as the Priestess of Suzaku.”

“Okay, okay,” he held his hands up in mocking surrender. “So pure in body is covered. What about pure in mind? Have you been having any dirty thoughts you feel like sharing with the class? And feel free to give us all the juicy details.”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Her outrage would have been more convincing if she didn’t seem to be fighting down an answering quiver at the corner of her mouth, and he found his grin growing broader.

“So what’s supposed to happen once you’ve done your priestessly duty, summoned the god, and made your three wishes?”

“Order is restored to the Universe of the Four Gods, and the beast god devours the priestess in sacrifice,” Marin pronounced, and then laughed as Daisuke’s eyebrows shot up. The smile that briefly lit up her face was a startling change to the intense seriousness that seemed to be her default expression, and he found himself wondering how he could get her to do that again. Zifeng didn’t seem as appreciative of her levity, and her eyes fell under his thin-lipped gaze.

“Or at least, that’s what the records of Suzaku say, but they all describe something like the red light that happened when I came to this world, so I’m rather hoping that it’s not literal. I assume that once Suzaku appears and the wishes are made that He sends the priestess back to our world and we can go home.”

“But He didn’t turn up when you did the ritual. So what actually happened, once you said the incantation?” Daisuke went back to the heart of the matter.

“The tengu turned up,” Marin said. “And so did you.”

Zhang Yong broke in angrily with a jerk of his head in Daisuke’s direction. “And you don’t think that’s significant? How do we know that he’s not the reason the ceremony went wrong?”

“It makes little difference why the ceremony failed,” Zifeng cut the argument off with finality. “We know now that there is another way to successfully summon Suzaku, and that must be our goal now.” He bent over Marin, speaking quietly to her. “I shall give the captain orders to sail for Beijia, if you will turn your efforts to finding something that may help us locate the shentsopao of Genbu’s priestess. Is there anything in the records you rescued that might aid us?”

Marin looked up at him, her face troubled. “I don’t know yet. I’ll need to do a bit more reading. I wish I could get my hands on the Records of the Four Gods to check.”

“The half a ton of books you made me lug here isn’t enough for you?” Daisuke teased, and Marin gave him another exasperated look.

“What I have here are the accounts of Suzaku’s priestesses. The Records covers the whole history of the Universe of the Four Gods, going back to the beginning, including all the priestesses of all four beast gods.”

“Then why didn’t you bring that one along with the rest of the library?”

“Because there is only one copy, and it’s at Mt Daichi in Tai Yi Jun’s palace.”

“Regardless,” Zifeng interjected, “it is not here, and we must proceed to Beijia.”

“But, Zifeng, if we don’t know what happened, it might happen again and we can’t afford for another summoning to fail,” Marin protested.

“I understand your concerns, Marin, but we need to act. I cannot see another course that offers a better chance of success.”

Daisuke, who had been watching the exchange with cynical interest, asked, “So what the hell is a ‘shentsopao’ anyway?”

“Tai Yi Jun says it’s something, an ornament or talisman, connected to one of the priestesses of the four gods that’s become imbued with the power of the summoning, so if you gather enough of them together then they have enough power to help call one of the gods,” Zhang Yong answered.

“Right. And who or what is Tai Yi Jun?”

Zhang Yong scowled at him as if he had just questioned the very order of the universe. “How can you not know of the Great Sage, the Emperor of the Heavens?”

“Why would I know anything about it?” Daisuke scoffed. “I’m not from around here, remember? And you’re on first name terms with the Emperor of the Heavens?”

The young monk drew himself up proudly, his grip tightening on the staff he held as he stared down Daisuke. “I have trained at Mt Daichi since I was six. Tai Yi Jun herself chose to take me in and oversaw my instruction.”

“Well, good for you, sparky,” Daisuke said.

Somewhere out on deck the deep-voiced gong shivered in the air, and Daisuke could hear the clump of feet in answer. From the cookhouse, there was a clatter of bowls and voices, and Xuelian pushed everyone towards the door. Before he could follow them, Xuelian caught at his arm.

“Not like that, you don’t,” she said decisively, nodding at the jeans and leather coat he was still wearing under armour. She turned back to a chest at the other end of the stateroom, and bent over it, turning over the clothes inside. Xuelian handed him a bundle of clothes, a black tunic and loose trousers that felt like rough silk, and when he began to strip off his armour and coat the doctor hustled the young princess towards the door.

He heard Meixing whisper, “But I want to stay!” as he started to tug his t-shirt over his head, but the door clicked shut firmly on the princess’ protests. He shook his head with a grin and tossed the t-shirt into a corner. As he reached for the tunic, he glanced up and caught Marin staring before she looked away quickly and fixed her attention on the books in front of her. His grin grew wider as he shrugged the rest of the clothes on and wrapped the tunic into place.

“What happened when you found the book?” she asked, not looking up from her notes.

He shrugged. “I saw the book on my desk, I heard you yelling for help, there was a flash of red light, and bang.”

At that, she looked up impatiently. “That’s it? Did anything else happen before that? Anything strange?”

“Other than the tengu?”

There was a long silence.

“What?”

“Three guys tried to jump me when I was on my way home, but they turned into crows when I fought them off. With my teeny tiny knife,” he added provocatively.

Marin cast her eyes up to the rafters, and he could hear her muttering something under her breath. It didn’t sound complimentary. She made him describe, in excruciating detail, every second of the encounter and exactly what the tengu had said when they attacked him, and then grilled him on everything from the breakfast he’d eaten to the train route he’d taken while she took notes.

“And you’d never seen the book before? No one else could have put it there?”

“Well, where did you find it?” he asked. “If it was the same day after school then you opened it only a couple of hours before it turned up in my bedroom. Someone would have had to get if from wherever you had it to Arakicho and upstairs past my mother.”

“I found it in the Einosuke Okuda restricted collection at the National Library.”

“And the librarians just let you in there?”

Marin gave him a blank look.

“Of course they just let you in,” Daisuke amended. “They probably all know you by name. But why were you there in there in the first place?”

“Einosuke Okuda was the one who brought the Book of Sky and Earth from China and translated it into Japanese. He was a famous journalist, but I was interested in his work on Chinese mythology and translation. It turns out that work was all about finding the Book of Sky and Earth. His translation of it was there in the collection, and I opened it and,” she gestured at everything around them, “here I am. The point is, how did the book end up in your bedroom a couple of hours later?”

Daisuke wiggled his fingers at her. “Ma-a-gic!”

At her eye roll, he spread his hands. “What? It’s a good theory, given everything else that’s been happening lately. We both got here through some sort of magical portal in a book. Now, if that’s everything –“

“Sit,” Marin said in a voice that brooked no refusal, and Daisuke found himself sinking onto the stool opposite her, growing increasingly restless as she interrogated him on detail after detail. His fingers drummed on the table as Marin made yet another meticulous notation, but she didn’t even seem aware of his impatience.

At some point Daisuke realised that the questions were testing his knowledge of the world he’d come from. He reached across and grabbed a sheet of paper and a charcoal willow stick.

“I go to Yotsubadai High. I live in Arakicho with my parents and my older brother.” He was drawing as he spoke. “I’m in my final year of school, my blood type is B, and I have no idea how or why I ended up here, but I am definitely not a part of this world.”

He handed her the sketch he’d been drawing, watching as her eyes widened a little. She clearly knew the location, but then he had been fairly certain that someone like her would recognise it. It was a tiny little bookshop near the National Library that specialised in graphic art and manga and books about obscure artists, and the owner knew Daisuke by name. It also wasn’t somewhere that he could have known about or drawn in such detail if he hadn’t been there himself.

“Are we done yet, Priestess?” he asked. “Either you believe me by now or you don’t, and I don’t much care which as long as you get me back home.”

“Oh, I already did believe you,” she said, still staring at his drawing. “But I do have to check my facts, don’t I?”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. “I’m beginning to get the impression that you do.”

“This is really skilled work. So you’re an artist?” she asked, and Daisuke felt his smile fade as he looked away.

“Graphic fiction art, mostly,” he muttered, dusting his black-smeared fingers on his trousers. “Comic format, and illustration. I have a webcomic I’ve been working on,” he admitted.

He glanced up to find her, chin propped on her hand and study forgotten, watching him with arrested attention, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Is that what you want to do when you leave school?” Marin asked, and he shrugged.

“It’s a hobby.”

“It sounds like a lot more than a hobby to me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not engineering.”

“So where are you planning on going next year? You’re not applying to the University of Arts?”

“Do I look like a Geidai candidate?” he said wryly. “I’m not planning on sitting the university exams.”

“Why not?”

Daisuke made a face. “Hikari’s always been the brains of the family. What’s the point?”

She gave him an incredulous look, but didn’t argue the point any further. When Marin finally released him and he escaped from the stateroom he closed the door behind him and leaned back against it with a sigh. Jing Yun silently handed him a cooling bowl of fish stew and rice with a sympathetic look, and Daisuke downed it without comment.

He emptied the bowl and handed it back. “Tamahome. Hotohori,” Daisuke said a little drily. “Which constellation are you?”

Jing Yun leaned down and drew the leg of his trousers up to show a symbol glowing on his knee.

“Chichiri, constellation of the Well,” he said briefly, and Daisuke nodded.

“And Tamahome gets the girl. Does the Priestess get any say in that at all?”

Jing Yun just gave him a look, and clapped him on the shoulder as the thief moved away and settled against the wall of the cookhouse to watch Zhu Yi and the game of coins the archer was involved in with some of the crew.

Daisuke glanced around to find Tian Zhen watching him with a thoughtful look on his good-natured features.

“Which one are you?” Daisuke asked him, and Tian Zhen held up one large hand. It lit briefly with a red symbol.

“Mitsukake,” he said laconically. “Sign of the Chariot.”

“And guard dog for an Imperial princess,” Daisuke needled him, but Tian Zhen just smiled placidly. “How did that come about?”

“When Meixing found out we were related, she sort of adopted me.”

“You’re related to the princess?” Daisuke asked curiously.

“I grew up with the stories about the night my grandfather’s uncle usurped the throne and my grandfather escaped into hiding.”

“Huh,” said Daisuke thoughtfully. “So you’re really a prince?”

“A tea farmer,” Tian Zhen said firmly.

“And Zifeng is Meixing’s cousin. Does he acknowledge the relationship too?”

Tian Zhen suppressed a snort, and wandered away to grab the back of Meixing’s sash before she could overbalance as she leaned out to watch the fish flitting through the churning water beneath them.

~~~~~

For the next few hours, while the scenery slid by, Daisuke wandered the ship, getting used to the clothes that Xuelian had found for him from the small store that Zifeng��s family kept on the ship. He wasn’t so thrilled about all the layers, and the sleeves of his outer robe still kept getting in his way, but it did allow much more freedom of movement. By the time the first watch lanterns were lit for the night, he was standing in the prow of the ship, absently flicking his butterfly knife open and closed again and watching the waves break under the ship.

The girls retreated to the stateroom, and Daisuke followed the rest of the Seishi to the cabin that was obviously used by the family’s ranked servants. Zifeng was wearing an expression of noble martyrdom, and Daisuke suppressed a snort. His Lordship, slumming it, he thought uncharitably, and threw himself into his bunk and pallet.

There was a low murmur of comments and observations that he knew no part of, and he turned his head back to stare up into the rafters of the cabin above him. He settled into the hard, narrow bunk, and as everything tipped and rolled under him he closed his eyes on his first night in another reality.

He dreamed of fire and falling between the worlds. Somewhere around midnight there was a soft shuffle and quiet voices, and the clink of pots and bowls from the cookhouse as crew collected their supper and changed hands for the night watch. The sounds faded, leaving only the slap of waves against the hull and the occasional groan of misery and seasickness.

Daisuke fell back into an uneasy doze and restless dreams until something tugged him back into waking. As he lay there waiting for the dream to fade, he noticed a dim light half hidden a few bunks down.

“…I don’t know why he’s here, Master,” he heard Zhang Yong whispering.

A voice like cracked glass answered, “Then find out, Chiriko. Find out, and protect the Priestess.”

The light flickered and disappeared, and there was a frozen silence from Zhang Yong as someone else mumbled and rolled over in their sleep. Daisuke heard a soft clinking sound as if something was being hidden under a sleeping pallet, and then the heavy stillness settled over the cabin again. It was a long time, though, before Daisuke could get back to sleep.