TILL THE LONELINESS SHADOWS THE SKY
Chapter 5 – War
Water dripped from his bangs, causing them to cling to his face and fall heavily into his eyes. Water was also trickling down the back of his neck, seeping between leather and skin and trapping it there. Water turned the black robe that he wore into what felt like a suit of full battle armor that, unfortunately, didn’t provide any protection whatsoever while providing massive impediments to his movements.
Rain, Genjo Sanzo Houshi had decided a long time ago, was the bane of his life.
-
Right now, life involved a lot of skulking around in the jungles around Chun Xiang, a sodden scarf wrapped tightly around his mouth to keep the warmth in and to stop his breath from forming clouds that would give his location away. His pistol was clutched in one hand, its silver finish invisible underneath the layer of hastily applied charcoal. Skulking. And sneaking. He hadn’t become a Sanzo to do this shit.
Another rivet of water found its way through his collar and down his back, and he had to resist the urge to curse vehemently and swat at him. It was fucking freezing, nevermind that this gods forsaken jungle was way too hot at other times, which just went to show that even the climate had suffered the effects of the Minus Wave.
He could have murdered Gyuumaou all over again.
For now, though, he concentrated on inching his way across the jungle floor, following the trail that the villagers in front of him were diligently clearing. They had been running around in this place for weeks now, first hunting down the supply lines and ruthlessly destroying them, then to cut off the wave of youkai reinforcements that had come to their compatriots aid, and then, with the youkai leadership still refusing to come to terms, he’d pulled together a team to strike right at the heart of the youkai encampment.
…It was a tried and tested strategy. It had worked against Gyuumaou and all the legions of Tenjiku, after all.
Fires blossomed in the distance, furiously defying the continual drizzle. Some other diversion team had found its mark, then. His own team members turned and grinned at each other, inching forward with slightly more enthusiasm before.
Sanzo planted an elbow in the mud, trying to lever himself forward. The elbow slipped. The scarf was the only thing that saved him from getting a faceful of muck. He decided, at that moment, that he hated mud even more than he hated the rain.
The younger of his team members signaled back with a thumbs up and a grin. The face of white teeth in the gloom reminded Sanzo all too sharply of someone he had left behind, someone he had diligently been trying to avoid thinking about for weeks. Someone who claimed he loved him.
Someone who had no fucking clue what love meant.
His jaw ached from being clenched.
Two hundred meters, the kid in front of him signaled, which Sanzo acknowledged with a curt nod. Two hundred meters more, and then this would all be over, and he could go home.
As the lights of the youkai encampment came into view, he wondered when he had started thinking of Chou’An as home.
--
Rain fell, cascading off the red tiled temple roof in tiny waterfalls.
Rain fell, shattering the surface of the koi pond in the garden.
Rain fell, putting a chill in the air that soured his mood.
Goku pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders, and viciously ripped another page off the calendar.
Six weeks.
The paper crunched as his fingers curled around it.
Six weeks and he’s still not back. And still no word except that the
situation in Chun Xiang is under control.
He could feel his fingernails digging into his palm, even through the flimsy material crushed in his hand.
Six weeks.
He took a deep breath, feeling his chest constrict at the mere thought of Sanzo.
Six weeks, and he had spent the first two trying to convince himself that he hated the priest. That he could never love someone so fiendishly cold hearted, so egoistically self centered, someone whose heart had long since turned to stone and could never turn back.
By the third week, he’d been dreaming of the sun again.
By the fourth week, he had taken to watching the road into Chou’An Ji.
By the fifth week, the sun of his dreams had turned into Sanzo himself, standing by his side as they stood on some nameless plateau, overlooking Tenjiku castle. And Sanzo would turn to him, and smile, a single, heart-stopping gesture directed at him, and him alone.
And now six weeks had passed, and he was sodding furious.
He closed his eyes, trying to calm down. Sanzo would come back a changed man, he told himself. Sanzo would come back, having not seen him for so long, and draw him close, and tell him that he hadn’t meant all those words. Hakkai was convinced that Sanzo would change, given time. Hakkai was never wrong, and surely if you loved someone enough, that person would turn around and love you back.
“Non-attachment,” he growled, “Is a lie. I’ll show you.”
After all, they had a bond, didn’t they? Something that not even Hakkai and Gojyo had. Sanzo heard him. They were divinely joined by Heaven, mind linked, soul partners, and surely even Sanzo had to realize that. Surely, if there was anyone destined to draw the priest out of the pain of the past, it would had to be him.
You drew me out of the dark. It’s my turn.
And when he succeeded, the world would be perfect.
And he’d lean close, coaxing a smile from lips that only ever seemed to
sport a frown or a humorless smirk. Sanzo would taste of cigarettes and beer,
he decided, and green tea. And air and light and freedom. And the warmth of the
sun would wash into his very soul, driving away all those nightmares of the
dark, and he’d never be alone again.
-v-
The sutras settled back upon his shoulders, still tingling with power. Maten, Seiten. Uten, Muten. And the one on whose tremendous power he had just called to level an entire enemy camp – Kouten, the Eternal Sutra.
He tugged the scarf off his face, smirking as he did so. The worst of the troublemakers completely wiped out in a single move, with enough survivors to bring the tales of horrific destruction back to their leaders. The message was resoundingly clear, especially with him standing there: Heaven to Earthbound troublemakers: Back the fuck off.
And, he thought, a tad smugly, my work here is done.
There would be negotiations soon, youkai and human meeting to hammer out the peace treaty. But for now the youkai army was in full retreat, so severely battered that it would likely be decades before they could even hope to reach their former strength. And at this juncture, one drenched and exhausted priest could make his way back to Chou’An…
…or he could stay and make sure that peace actually happened.
What is freedom? a stray thought whispered across his mind.
He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath to calm the sudden shudder that wracked his frame.
“I love you, you know,” he whispered to the pouring rain, fingers entwining themselves with the silken material of the sutras. “I loved you enough to set out to regain the sutras. Loved you enough to stain my entire life with blood, just to avenge your death.”
Gods, and where had that left him? A sodden figure standing in the rain, with all the power of the world at his fingertips, whose name was indelibly stamped across every province and whispered by every human and youkai …
Somewhere, somehow, he had turned into everything that Koumyou wasn’t. And the sting of rain against his face, echoing that distant, distant night, reminded him that none of this had given him the one thing that he wanted.
You’re not coming back, are you? I’ve avenged you. I’ve avenged you a
thousand times over. I’ve drenched the world with blood, retrieved your sutras,
grown into the office you gave me to bear, and yet… yet…
Yet…
His hand fell limply to his side.
And the rain continued to pour down, relentless.
Chapters 6 and 7 to come soon.
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