Disclaimer: All of your base are belong to me, but I do not own the Sorcerer Hunters. I would love it if I did. That would be fun. Tea Party time, dollies! Um, never mind.

The Day the Phoenix Fell
Sequel to ‘Beautiful Dangerous’
By Fala

The afternoon echoed with laughter that spilled forth from a thousand flimsy mouths. Where alcohol went in, fuzzied babblings went out, the hum of pseudo-joy mingling with the falling petals that peppered the picnic site with pastel-pink. The annual spring-time sakura picnic was in full swing beneath the enormous, ancient cherry tree, which was famous throughout the land and served as a tourist attraction of sorts. Picnic blankets were spread out over the grass, some of their owners sitting on them and sipping sake, while others who had done so already milled about in bubbly, drunken clusters. Such was the purpose of this celebration; get drunk off your ass and have a bitching-good time.

Of course, Carrot was making a complete arse of himself. He’d painted what was supposedly a face on his stomach and chest and was dancing around, chorusing fools’ ditties and wearing less than should be legal. Chocolat was doing much the same thing, and Tira had her hands full, trying to keep the rowdy duo’s actions in check (with only moderate success).

Some distance away, in a less noisy location, Marron sat at an old rickety picnic table which was unoccupied save for himself. Of course, Marron had not touched a drop of alcohol, having learned his lesson last year. His first cup of sake had laid him flat. After he’d nearly succeeded in burning down the whole place with his fire magic, of course. Chocolat and Carrot thought it would be amusing to get Marron drunk for the first time, seeing as Marron was so proud and self-righteous on a regular basis. On cup of sake and three Phoenix Inferno spells later, Marron was sprawled out on the grass beside his friend, Gateau, who was equally incapacitated. As for Marron, the horrible hangover that followed was nothing compared to his shame. He promised himself he would never come within ten feet of a bottle of sake again.

Brushing a stray hair away from his brow, Marron continued his own private work, and allowed the chaos to sow itself around him, and apart from him. He was now sketching, having read his book cover to cover. Seeing as Carrot had dragged Marron to the wild, anarchic jubilation, and Marron had no interest in the activities taking place, he was bored, and busied himself with more civilized ways of passing the time.

“Heya, Marr’. What’s jiggin’?”

A slurred, mildly cheerful voice intruded upon Marron’s train of thought. The mage looked up from his work in time to see his warrior team mate have a rather clumsy seat next to him. Gateau’s hair had been neatly slicked back earlier in the day, but now it was mussed and shone with a mixture of hair gel and sweat. The tanned complexion was tinged with magenta, and the cerulean eyes were hazy and dim. Piecing all of these observations together, Marron was able to infer that Gateau was moderately drunk.

“Hello Gateau,” Marron said politely, but halfheartedly. It had been almost a week since he and Gateau had talked about Marron’s... reasons for abstinence. The days following that fateful confession had been rife of cold silences and void of contact between them, be it by eye, by word, or by touch. Their interaction was reduced much in the way as it would if it were the result of a heavy grudge. This was no grudge, however. It was simply a matter of fear and of cluelessness. What to say to each other after such a baring of truth? There was much to say, and there was nothing to say. There were volumes clamouring to be spoken on behalf of both parties, but neither had the slightest idea where to begin. Perhaps it was for the best that this celebration, however unenjoyable Marron found it to be, was taking place. At least Gateau could drink away his sorrows and forget his grievances, if only temporarily...

Gateau frowned, “Hey, what’s with the stiff bird?” he inquired, gesturing lazily at the deceased pigeon that was lying belly-up on the table.

“I’m drawing it,” Marron said, glad that Gateau was at least drunk enough to remain unaware of how very cold he couldn’t help sounding.

“Ya mean ya picked up that grody thing and put it on the table and now yer drawin’ a p’chure of it?” Gateau said blurrily, making a face.

“Yes.”

“Aw man, tha’s nasty,” Gateau commented with a grimace, swaying slightly as he shook his head in disgust, “I think I’m gonna be s-sick...”

“Then maybe you should leave,” Marron said thickly, not taking his eyes off his work. He wasn’t in the mood for this kind of bland, smart-assed criticism. After all, who was Gateau to criticize what Marron was doing when he himself was so bloody drunk, he couldn’t buy sake?

“No really...” Gateau said, in voice that was a bit more... grave? “I think... I... think...”

Marron finally looked up from his drawing and in doing so, noticed that Gateau’s face had paled considerably, and the older man was quivering all over.

“Oh gods...” Gateau said in an urgent whisper, “I don’t feel well...”

“You look terrible,” Marron confirmed. He then found himself wondering why he was so concerned. His concern increased tenfold when Gateau moaned and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Marron closed his sketchbook and leapt up from the bench. He knelt at Gateau’s side. Just as Marron was about to ask Gateau what was wrong, the older man managed to crack a strangled plea.

“Help me up...”

Marron nodded and slung one heavy, muscle-bound arm over his shoulders and struggled against the weight of his warrior friend.

“Gateau,” he gasped, “You’ve got to help me here. You’re bigger than me.”

Gateau moaned and struggled pick himself up. After a few seconds of struggling, the combined efforts of the two men finally got Gateau to his feet. With Marron supporting what he could of his larger friend, Gateau managed to stagger away from the picnic area to the seclusion of a cluster of bushes. Once there, Gateau disengaged himself from Marron and promptly retched behind some thick shrubbery.

When the tearing coughs and pained choking noises had ceased, Marron returned to Gateau’s side. Gateau was ridding his chin of vomit with the back of one gloved hand, seeing as nothing else with which to do so was available.

“I think,” Marron stated wisely, “that you have had quite enough to drink today.”



It was as if nothing had happened between them. Nothing. Gateau, fuzz-minded and hungover as he was, couldn’t rid himself of those achingly thrilling memories.

He had clutched the shaking beauty to his chest, feeling the unnaturally warm body pressed to his own. The smaller of the two had then touched him. He had lifted a hand in haste and thrust it against his larger companion, his palm warmer than was to be expected, his fingertips possessing even more heat, and borderlining searing. Such a gesture’s intention was unknown to the warrior, but he suspected that it had been to push him away, much in the same way words had done some so many times previous. Yet this was not done. Instead, the younger, slimmer body then loosened into what could have been submission. Though lax, the aura surrounding the younger man was still weak and shimmery with pallid fear. Not that Gateau could see auras. He had no talent for such things. However, Marron’s magical core betrayed him that night, and Gateau could feel the cool eddies of dread rolling off his smaller companion in cold, clammy waves. All of this, and he had still felt that quiet thrill rising within his heart... He was holding Marron. Marron was not fighting him. That made all the difference.

It was a dangerously beautiful and beautifully dangerous feeling. He gloried in it whilst fearing it. And now, remembering, it tore at his heart.

“I could not and would not forgive myself if I hurt someone I loved. You have no idea how painful it’s been for me, pushing you away like this. You have no idea how much of a temptation you have been to me, throughout the years. But, I just... don’t want to lose you.”

So he had said. And yet he saw fit to sever any and all contact between them. Ever since the night of that confession, the Core Mage had all but forgotten his ruggedly handsome warrior team mate. As far as Marron was concerned, Gateau didn’t exist. At least that was what shown. But Gateau couldn’t help remembering another later bit of their conversation...

“You could have at least said, ‘No,’ or, ‘Feck off, Gateau,’ or something like that instead of leaving me in the dark all this time. Or did you get a kick out of watching me get down on all fours for you?”

“No that’s not it all at all.”

“Then WHY, dammit, didn’t you just give me one word? One little ‘no’ and I would've left you alone.”

“Exactly. If I’d said ‘no’, then you would have left me alone. You would have given up on me and looked for love somewhere else, leaving me alone with my... curse. I was being selfish, Gateau. I understand that now. I wanted you to come back to me, time and time again, to make me feel wanted.”

If Marron wanted Gateau to keep on coming, then why was he giving him the cold shoulder all of a sudden? Why? Gateau stood decidedly, though shakily, from his seat on the mattress. He was still a little woozy from the rather large amount of alcohol he’d ingested, but his curiosity licked at and teased his heart in a way that could not be put aside for later satisfaction. He had to know. Now.


They were staying in a hotel. The annual Sakura picnic attracted hundreds of people from far and wide, so naturally, The Clementine Royale, which happened to be the hotel nearest to the picnic site, was full. It was a pleasant place to stay; the rooms were small, but the bathrooms were all clean and fresh-smelling, and the service was of the mint-on-the-pillow status. There was also a full-sized public pool outside. This was where Gateau found Marron.

The Core Mage was reclining on a rickety folding pool side chair while scribbling away in what appeared to be a notebook in his lap, his hair spilling in inky waves over the side of the chair. Even though it was past nightfall and the moon that hung in the sky was waning, the pool lights cast an eerie greenish glow across the cement pool deck that was very possibly enough light to work in one’s notebook by.

Gateau tread carefully, making his way down the six steps that led to the pool area as quietly as possible. He didn’t know whether or not he wanted Marron to notice him. Not just yet.

“There is no need to tiptoe,” Marron said calmly, not taking his eyes off his work, “I know you are here, Gateau.”

“Gods, you have hearing like a dog’s,” Gateau grumbled, stepping out of the shadows and into the pallid cerulean light provided by the underwater lamps in the pool.

“You’d be surprised how magical abilities can enhance one’s senses,” Marron said smoothly, his focus still slave to the page, “But even if I were deaf, I’d know you were there. I could feel your consciousness nearby.”

What the hell-? Gateau hadn’t the foggiest idea as to what Marron meant by that, but he hadn’t come for a mage terminology lesson. Still, it would be nice to start out in a more friendly, familiar way, if only to prove that they were still friends.

“So, watcha doing now?”

“Finishing the drawing I started this afternoon.”

“Can I see?”

“You may.”

Gateau approached the pool chair and leaned in for a closer look at what he’d by now discerned was Marron’s sketchpad. The drawing, done with a charcoal stick, illustrated a bird, lying on its back, its wings splayed limply at its sides, it’s head twisted at an odd angle. But it was not the dead pigeon that Marron had placed on the picnic table. No. This bird’s feathers were as flame; a phoenix. The fire fowl was lying upon what looked like a jetty of sharp rocks, a thick stake plunged into its heart. The drawing was very beautiful, if not shocking and, to an extent, frightening. The shadows were blended smoothly, and the jagged edges of the rocks were defined and sharp-looking. There was even some reddish-brown colouring melded into the black in the pheonix’s feathers. It looked suspiciously like smeared blood that had soaked into the paper and dried. Sure enough, Gateau noticed a small blood-stained bandage around Marron’s left index fingertip.

“But you did not come down here with mere artistic interests, did you, Gateau?” Marron said more than asked in the same cool, flawless voice.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something,” Gateau admitted, toying with a bit of hair of the back of his head.

“You did nothing.”

Gateau blinked, “Wha-?”

“I said, you did nothing. Nothing wrong. It’s not your fault,” Marron replied, still refusing to look up at Gateau, “It isn’t because of you that I’ve been so distant lately.”

“How did you know?” Gateau breathed, shocked shitless. So what, was Marron both a Core Mage and a Psychic? What was he gonna be next, a fairy?!

“I didn’t,” Marron admitted calmly, “But I could feel confusion, loneliness, sorrow, and unease in your aura, so I inferred from this that you were wondering as to why I ran away,” Marron slowly looked up, facing Gateau for the first time, his placid, inky eyes flawlessly unreadable, “You always take things so much to heart. It’s just the way you are. You are always willing to shoulder blame, even if there is none.”

Marron’s eyes flickered briefly with what could've been sorrowful admiration, but Gateau was not sure.

“It is a noble quality,” Marron continued softly, “But one that brings unnecessary grief upon you. You did nothing wrong that night. I ran because I was beginning to give in to my desire. That is a very dangerous thing, considering what I am. If I had allowed myself to fall completely under my own thrall, gods only know what could have happened to you. I then decided that I could not house such thoughts and desires. So I ran. If I am away from you, and I forget what I once felt for you, then the danger will be gone. It is in both of our best interests.”

“Whoreshit, Marron,” Gateau growled harshly. “You know that’s not true.” His voice then softened slightly, reduced with hurt. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you! And for you to just run away from me like this... that is just plain cowardly. I could never forget it. And I certainly wouldn’t forgive.”

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” Marron said in voice as firm and cold as stone as he turned away again. “Once I am away and I have forgotten you, I will not need to care anymore. When I have reached a state of total independence, I won’t have to care about anyone, thus I cannot hurt anyone. That’s just the way it has to be.” Marron’s voice splintered slightly, betraying a suppressed sob, but he didn’t allow himself to waver. He simply rose from his chair and continued more forcefully, “I don’t need anyone, Gateau! I don’t need your forgiveness, or your love. I don’t need you.”

Marron then stepped away in cold, hard silence, trying not to falter from the pain in his heart as he walked along the edge of the pool.

‘ I’m so sorry, Gateau,’ his mind said in a grievous whisper.

“You’re wrong, Marron.”

Marron halted, doubt twanging in his fiery heart upon hearing that simple verbal counter-attack from behind. He could hear heavy footsteps approaching.

“You will maintain your distance, Gateau,” Marron said slowly, through clenched teeth, his tone quiet, but threatening. ‘Be cold, my burning heart,’ his mind ordered, envisioning a breath of frost sweeping over his heart and turning it to a block of solid ice within a flaming cage of ribs. Ice that neither fire nor feelings could melt.

Obediently, Gateau ceased his pursuit. He sighed heavily. “Marron, just tell me one thing. If things were different. If you were not... erm, the way you are, would you be willing to be with me?”

A heavy, pregnant pause followed, in which Marron’s emotions fought to break down the ice barrier that he’d built around his heart. Gritting his teeth, he reinforced it and painfully ousted those feelings. ‘Be cold. Answer, but do nothing more. Be cold,’ he reminded himself.

“Yes.”

Silence and stillness followed for a moment. Marron then began to walk away again. Despite the current situation, Gateau couldn’t help but marvel at how very regal and elegant the young Core Mage looked, striding along the edge of the pool, half-bathed in the pale, shimmery light of the underwater lamps, and looking for all the world like a heavenly deity...

“Wait,” Gateau requested without really thinking. Amazing how certain circumstances could make such a simple word so hard to pronounce. There was pain and pleading in that single word, so profound that Marron stopped, though he wondered why for the life of him that he did so. He then took a brief look inside himself and was pleased, if not perplexed, to find his newly iced-over heart still frozen and intact, and that he felt cold and empty. That he felt nothing for the strong, handsome and lovesick man just a few paces behind him. Marron then concluded that he’d obliged to the simple request out of pure, dumb instinct. Not out of guilt, and certainly not out of love. Instinct and nothing more.

Gateau had been so stunned that he really hadn’t thought before speaking. The word was spoken on impulse. He felt dumb, desperate and in the dark, so he simply went with the cheap available idea that came to him next.

Upon feeling a sudden steely, yet gentle grip encircle his arm, Marron wheeled around and struck Gateau in a cataclysm of rage, grief, and overall ‘I’ve had it up to here with you’ frustration.

Gateau had reached for Marron, his hand finding Marron’s slender forearm. Marron had then turned about, giving Gateau a split-second to see the anger in his eyes before slapping him sharply across the face.

Marron had hit Gateau with a force that was unexpected by either of them. Gateau had no idea that someone as gentle and passive as Marron would do something like that. Marron himself was surprised at his own strength. Either way, the sudden bout of violence caught both parties off guard, and (seeing as Marron had hit Gateau whilst Gateau still had Marron’s arm in his fist) sent the two of them toppling into the pool.

The icy chill broke over Marron as though he himself had been struck. Water enveloped him, freezing and frightening Marron to the core. With Marron clutching his jacket out of fearful instinct, Gateau propelled himself upward, taking his parasitic accomplice with him. A few powerful kicks, and Gateau broke the surface, gulping air in stunted gasps.

Grasping the concrete edge of the pool deck with one hand and using the other to bring Marron over so he could do the same, Gateau read the ‘12 ft’ that had been painted on the deck, and discerned that they had fallen into the diving area. Marron latched onto the edge of the deck, coughing and spitting up water. Grudges temporarily forgotten, Gateau looked over at the mage with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Ye-es...” Marron managed to wheeze between coughs.

“Don’t you know how to swim?”

“No...” Marron said, choking. A few coughs later, he managed to recover somewhat and continued, “A fire mage fears the water, for it weakens his abilities, so he makes a point of putting himself as far from it as possible at all times.”

Gateau shrugged, “Makes sense. But how do you bathe then?”

“It is a simple matter of timing,” Marron explained, “I simply must make sure I get in and out quickly. Being immersed in water will drive even the most powerful fire mages into total docility. Especially if the water is cold.”

“I see.”

“Which is why I need to get out of here now,” Marron stated matter-of-factly as he gripped the concrete edge of the deck, and hauled himself out of the pool.

What Marron had just said illuminated a brilliant idea within Gateau’s mind.

“Nah, I think you should stay a while.”

That said, he grabbed a fistful of Marron’s white cheongsam and tugged.

Uttering a startled cry, Marron fell backwards into the pool with a loud splash. Gateau gripped him by the collar and helped him climb his way back to the surface. Once he had his head above the water and was through hacking and choking again, Marron turned to glare at Gateau, hardly noticing that Gateau had placed bold arms around his slender body while he treaded water, more to keep Marron from drowning than anything else.

“Why did you do that?” Marron asked quietly, his voice and gaze possessing a soft edge of anger.

“If being in water subdues your powers,” Gateau grinned wolfishly, “then I can do this!”

Before the stunned mage could react, Gateau brought him close and kissed his lips passionately. But no sooner had their mouths met when a bubble of fire swelled between them and burst, sending Gateau rocketing backwards, and slamming him into the concrete wall on the other side of the pool.

After a horrified moment, spent nearly sinking to the bottom, Marron floundered toward Gateau as best he could, grasping the edge of the pool deck when it was within his reach.

“Damn...” Gateau breathed, laughing quietly and grinning like a madman even though he was still smoking at the mouth.

“Are you alright?” Marron asked, drawing near and, to Gateau’s surprise, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” Gateau replied, though he really wasn’t so sure. Running his tongue over his teeth, he swore he tasted hints of ash, “By the gods, what did you do, man?”

“Well, you surprised me,” Marron said, shrugging, his white clothing billowing around him under the water. Frowning, he continued, “I didn’t really do anything. I told you before what would happen if you did that. Gateau, I could’ve killed you!” Marron shook his head slowly, “You had better thank your lucky stars that the water weakened my power enough and spared your life.”

Gateau’s eyes went wide, “Weakened? ! Gods, I’d hate to see what it’s like at full strength.”

“That you would,” Marron agreed.

“But you said that the water would totally neutralize your power,” Gateau said, confused.

“It is a matter of timing,” Marron explained, “If I am in water, my powers will decrease gradually.”

“Oh,” Gateau said, shrugging casually, “Then I’ll just have to hold you here for a few more minutes and then try again.”

A dark frown crossed Marron’s face, “Do the words ‘give up’ mean anything to you?”

“No,” Gateau replied simply, and laughed, “The words ‘Give Up’ aren’t even in the Mocha dictionary.”

“I can tell,” Marron said quietly, disdainfully.

“Aw c’mon, Marron,” Gateau prodded with a smile.

“No.”

“But that night, you said that you -”

“Forget anything and everything I told you that night, Gateau,” Marron said in what was somewhere between a whisper and a growl. Gateau couldn’t help noticing a small quaver in Marron’s speech, as though the water was finally taking it’s major toll on him, “Nothing matters to me anymore. Least of all you.”

Gateau bowed his head, shaking it slowly, “You cut me deep, Marron,” he said with more sorrowful emphasis than he really felt. More of an attempt to earn Marron’s pity than anything else. Unsuccessful as usual.

“I don’t care, Gateau,” Marron said softly, coldly, his voice very possibly even more reduced than before, “I don’t have to care anymore.” He spent a few a seconds watching the older man in silence who just hung his head, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead. Sighing slightly and snuffing any last warmth he might have felt for the person next to him, Marron decided he’d better get out of the pool, for he could feel himself fading. Gripping the concrete, Marron made a second attempt to pull himself out of the water. He could not. But he was not any fault of Gateau’s that has disabled him. He simply lacked the strength to do so.

Gateau heard Marron hit the water again and felt the splash he’d caused. Letting go of the pool deck, Gateau allowed himself to descend, his hands groping about in the water for a fold of clothing or a lock of hair. His fist finally locked onto the cuff of a sleeve. Pulling Marron close to him, he kicked upward. By now, the mage was so weak, he couldn’t even keep a sufficient hold on Gateau, so the older man had to hold him with one arm and paw through the water with the other, making their ascension a bit longer. Gateau broke the surface, and took care to help Marron to the same. Marron drew breath, emitting tiny cries and coughs, his body lax and submissive in the warrior’s arms. He slowly lifted his head and found his face only a few inches from Gateau’s. It made him uncomfortable, looking Gateau in the eye and being to close to him when he felt so weak, but Marron spoke steadily, nevertheless.

“These damned feelings of yours will be the end of you, Gateau,” Marron hissed, his eyes, though slightly hooded, burning with anger and grief, “You should destroy this silly infatuation before you get yourself killed.”

Gateau simply regarded Marron with soft, sorrowful blue eyes that glittered gently in the pale light that shone up from beneath the water. Their gaze made Marron ache inside. ‘My heart is ice and still it trembles...’ Marron closed his eyes, partially to shut out Gateau’s eyes, and also out of exhaustion. The cold temperatures of the water were taming his defenses and repulsion systems quickly. He had nothing left with which to fight back.

Just as a certain suede darkness was creeping into his mind, Marron felt Gateau’s lips beside his ear.

“It can never be destroyed,” the voice said, penetrating the sleep-fogged recesses of Marron’s subconscious mind.

“I love you,” Gateau said in a harsh whisper as he held Marron to himself, just before the younger man passed out, “I love you until my dying day.”