He was sick and tired of the cold. It had settled into his bones and refused to vacate, regardless of the heat the fire was producing. Another sign he was getting older, no doubt. The flap of the yurt lifted suddenly and Koji appeared, teeth chattering and gloved hands flapping as he tried to make his blood flow against the chill of the night.

"I officially hate Hokkan," he grumbled, shivering his way to the fire and sitting down with a thump against the furs. "Next time ya ask me t'come on this annual trek, remind me t'say no, Genro."

Tasuki barked out a laugh and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Locals say it's th'worst weather they've had in decades. Touran's not farin' much better by th'sound of it. Might have t'take another day t'get to th'mountain if'n th'snow keeps fallin'. At least we'll be spendin' nights in a good inn."

"Yeah? Well good, 'cuz otherwise I'm gonna turn int’a livin' icicle." Koji lay down next to the fire and tugged several of the sleeping blankets over him until only the top of his head peeked out. "Night, Genro. Best get some sleep, too."

"Night, Koji," Tasuki answered, reaching over to the lantern beside him and turning it down until it flickered and finally went out. He slid beneath his pile of blankets and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Without dreams. If only it were that easy.

******

It took them the better part of the following day to make it to Touran. The snow continued to fall and the wind whipped about them as they rode their horses toward the city, making the journey bitterly cold and unpleasant. By the time they reached the inn, Koji was once again complaining about having agreed to accompany his friend to Hokkan.

The inn, at least, met with his approval and Tasuki left Koji at the bar as he went up to their room to leave their packs. It was the same inn the seishi had used during their time spent in the city when they'd come to find the shrine and claim the shinzaho. It was the inn in which he spent his last few hours with Nuriko. Only he hadn't known at the time they would be his last.

Dropping the packs on the floor, he went to the window and opened it, letting the cold breeze sting his face as he looked out over the city. He could see Mount Black off in the distance and if he closed his eyes, he could picture the high doors of the shrine and the small mound that stood a few feet from them, its tall marker the only evidence that someone loved and cherish lay buried beneath the frozen earth.

Tasuki longed to go there now, but the added time it took to get to the city with the snow falling continuously meant that the daylight would be fading soon. He knew it would be best to get an early start tomorrow. Perhaps then the weather would have improved. He shivered against a blast of frigid air that whirled in through the open window and immediately shut it. Leaving it open too long would mean having to listen to Koji's endless whining about the temperature as they tried to sleep. After making sure the room's small stove was still churning out heat, Tasuki headed downstairs to join Koji at the bar. Maybe the innkeeper would have all the ingredients for a Nuriko Special.

******

They left the inn after an early breakfast of bread and cheese, guiding the horses through the icy streets of the city and toward the lone road that would take them to the mountain's summit. The snow had ended sometime during the night and the day had dawned sunny, but still bone-chillingly cold. A slight gust of wind swirled the loose snow around the horses' hooves as they walked.

It always surprised Tasuki how little time it took to reach Nuriko's grave site. On the day he died, it had seemed like an eternity as the group of seishi had raced on foot through the snow to where Nuriko lay dying. Not dying, but dead. It had been too late. They had been too late.

 

He had been too late.

They dismounted near a small cluster of trees, tying the horses to some of the low hanging branches. Koji clasped him on the shoulder, giving him an understanding yet encouraging smile. "Gonna check out the shrine while ya visit. Give me a call when yer ready."

Leave it to Koji to know what he needed even before he did.

He watched his friend head toward the doors of the shrine. They were always open now, had been ever since the Suzaku no seishi and their miko had arrived one day to ask for the shinzaho guarded within. The shinzaho was no longer inside, but the shrine was still cared for and visited often. Likely more so now that the heavy metal doors were open in welcome.

Once he saw Koji disappear inside, he turned toward Nuriko's grave and walked the short distance to its stone marker, resting a hand against it. This was not the original marker they had left when Nuriko had first died. Back then, there had not been time to erect anything more than a tall piece of wood. The elegant monument that stood there now had appeared the following year, commissioned by Houki, the Empress of Konan. She had been one of Nuriko's best friends. The inscription was simple, yet filled with much meaning. Tasuki's fingers traced each of the carved words:

In remembrance of Cho Ryuuen
Known forever as Nuriko of the Suzaku no shichiseishi
Beloved of his country, his family, and his friends
His body lies here, but his courage and strength remain with us always
He will forever be loved and will never be forgotten
May Suzaku guide his soul to peace and happiness

It had been several years since Tasuki had cried during this yearly visit, but even though the tears had stopped flowing his eyes still stung as if they weren't far from the surface. He sniffed, unable to stop the action before it started.

"Damnit Nuriko, yer twenty years dead and ya still got me wantin' to bawl my eyes out," Tasuki complained to the tombstone. "I suppose it's fittin' that I act like an idiot in front of ya." With a sigh, the former bandit let his hand fall away as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold granite.

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts and memories take him away as he always did when he came here to visit. Remembrance flooded into him: the sound of Nuriko's voice, the cadence of his laughter, the touch of his hand, the smell of his hair, the look of his smile. For several passing minutes, Tasuki felt as if Nuriko lived and breathed once more.

He felt the wind pick up, felt it tug at his clothes and hair. With eyes still closed, he lifted his face into it, mildly surprised to find its caress was soft and warm, not harsh and cold as it had been. The wind held Tasuki in its embrace, breathing a sigh of current into his ear, and tickling along his cheek.

Tasuki-chan...

His eyes flew open and he spun around quickly, sharp eyes scanning the surrounding landscape, hopeful. But there was no one in sight, only the wind whistling through the trees below and scattering drifts of snow over landscape.

Only the wind and its caress.

"Nuriko," Tasuki whispered. Then he smiled, threw back his head, and laughed.

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