Cycle of Karma by Elvaron

Index

Chapter 1: I
Chapter 2: II
Chapter 3: III
Chapter 4: IV
Chapter 5: V

Chapter 1: I

Cycle of Karma
By sf
Begun : Aug 31 2003

Rating : PG-13 for violence. And of course, no fic is complete without some character abuse.

--

Sanzo opened his eyes.

"The next town’s so far away! We’d never reach it even if we drove all night," Goku whined, right into his ear. "Sanzo, are you listening to me?!"

The engine spluttered then, and there was a soft whimper from the dashboard. "I think Hakuryuu’s just about done in," Hakkai said, turning to look at him. "If we want to travel any distance tomorrow..."

He looked up into the sky, and the moon was rising on the horizon. It shimmered in the dusty air, yellow and engorged. There was no shelter for miles, but just enough foliage and rock to accommodate plenty of assassins.

"And we haven’t had dinner," Goku’s whine continued, taking a life of its own. "I’m starving to death! And can’t we have some water? Please?"

"And it’s going to start freezing in a moment," Gojyo pitched in.

Sanzo took a deep breath, wincing as the air seemed to claw its way down his windpipe. "Fine."

With a chirp of relief, Hakuryuu ground to a halt.

"Right, let’s get a fire going so that we can have some real dinner," Goku leapt out of the Jeep, radiating enthusiasm.

"No fires," Sanzo cut in tersely.

"But... but... but why?"

Sanzo shrugged irritably. "It’s not safe." Someone’s watching us. Somewhere.

"And there’s no wood," Hakkai pointed out. "Except the bushes, and those wouldn’t burn properly."

Goku looked morose. "So it’s cold leftovers again? We should have pushed on to the next town..."

"You’re the one who wanted a stop," Sanzo shot back, as he climbed out of Jeep. Screw this all... he needed a smoke.

"You said ‘no fires’," Gojyo smirked. Nearby, there was a brief shimmer, then a white shape winged up to perch on Hakkai’s shoulders.

"Don’t get smart with me, kappa." There was a flash of light in the darkness, which faded into a muted glow at the end of the cigarette. He nearly choked upon inhaling, but once the smoke was in, nerves that he hadn’t realized were wound taut loosened gradually.

"It’s been a long day," Hakkai told them. "And a long night, if I might add." He shot a look of what might have been admonishment at Sanzo. The other ignored it. "We all need our rest."

"But--" Goku started.

"After dinner, of course," Hakkai smiled at him.

"Screw dinner," Gojyo muttered. "I’m going to sleep. Saru can eat his heart out."

"Post a guard," Sanzo said.

"Not me!" Goku piped up.

"Not me either!" Gojyo said quickly.

Hakkai and Sanzo exchanged glances. "I’m the driver," Hakkai said discretely.

"It’s not like anyone can sleep with that monkey snoring the stars down, anyway," Sanzo muttered. There was a scrape of dirt as he sat, his back to one withered, leafless specimen of a tree. And it’s not like I’d get any sleep if I tried. Not with...

He paused. There it was, that intangible feeling that clicked with the cigarette smoke and recalled too many nights and too many rude awakenings... It was stronger now, more familiar, and the cold that needled down his spine had nothing to do with the chill of a desert night.

Youryoku, he realized. Not the typical concentrated stab that bespoke of a youkai climbing in through the window, but diffused. Dissipated. Diluted.

Steeped. It emanated from the ground. The earth was soaked in it. It rang with the same undertone that Hyakugan Maou’s castle did ... even with every youkai slaughtered and the castle torched, the land still remembered.

This was even older. Youkai had lived here, and their fathers, and the grandfathers of their grandfathers. Generations upon generations. Youkai had been here long before the Minus Wave. Long before Gyuumao. Perhaps were still here... there was no way of knowing.

Goku had stuffed his face and leaned back to sleep. Gojyo was already out, snoring lightly. "Wake me up in an hour," Hakkai soft voice reached him, out of the darkness.

Sanzo scoffed quietly. "Go to sleep."

***

Hours passed without incident. The nerves grew used to the tingle of youryoku, further dulled by fatigue and nicotine. It faded, like a persistent smell that one failed to notice after a while. The pack of cigarettes ran low, and another had to be broken out. The night was still, soundless and windless. But the air was tense, watchful.

Goku began snoring again, and with a small sigh of irritation, Sanzo leaned over to roll him onto his side.

And that was why the arrow bolt intended for his head embedded itself in the tree behind instead.

The others scrabbled awake to the explosion of gunshots and the whine of arrows overhead. A bolt lodged itself into Goku’s cape as he tried to stand, sending him flopping over onto his back. A glowing barrier shot into place over him as he frantically tore the arrow out of the ground, deflecting several more that were rather more accurately aimed.

"I thought you were supposed to be on guard!" Gojyo yelled. "Sleeping on the job, monk?"

Sanzo fired off two more shots. "You didn’t sense them either."

"Yeah, but I was asleep!"

"Which is why I had to step in to save your sorry ass. Why I bother, I don’t know."

The shakujou’s blade stabbed into the ground inches away from Sanzo’s foot. There was a momentary lull in gunfire. "Idiot cockroach," Sanzo ground out. "Watch where you put that thing. If you can’t even control your phallic symbol..."

"...get a wimpy one, like yours?" Gojyo shot back.

The bullet came close enough to sever several strands of hair. As Gojyo drew breath to protest, a shout interrupted him.

"Hakuryuu! Behind--"

A draconic shrill of pain escaped as the dragon fell, one wing leaking blood. A blade cut -- steel had sheared through cartilage and membrane. The wing hung loose, barely supported by a thin framework of bone.

"Hakuryuu!" Hakkai cried again, the anguish evident in his voice. There were several explosions of light as he rushed to Hakuryuu’s side.

"Idiot! Behind you!" Sanzo’s gun clicked on an empty chamber, but Goku was already there. There was a gurgled scream as he brought Nyoibou down hard enough to split a youkai’s skull. "Gotcha," Goku smirked. "Five already."

The death did nothing to abate the fury of the attack.

"Learn to shut up," Gojyo snapped back, decapitating one. Beside him, Sanzo calmly reloaded and began firing again. "This really was a bad place to stop."

"Oh listen to you..." Gojyo muttered. "This is just a bit of a warm up before breakfast."

"It is not," a voice cut in. Gojyo glanced across, startled, and met narrowed green eyes. Hakkai stood slowly, cradling Hakuryuu. "It’s not a game." His free hand darted out, and the subsequent blast obliterated the remaining attackers.

"I’m sorry," Gojyo replied, recalling the blade. It clicked onto place in a shower of blood. "I didn’t mean... well... I’m sorry..."

"Hey, Hakkai, is he okay? Hakuryuu?" Goku asked.

"We have to walk," Hakkai said curtly. "And he needs warmth, rest and proper food, if the wound is to mend properly. And we need water. Bandages. Something to clean the grit out..."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "I think there was a stream somewhere ahead..." Gojyo volunteered. "Or some village..."

"Then let us walk," Sanzo ordered. "It’s morning." Stowing the gun, he set off without a backward glance. His sandals churned up dust.

Slowly, the others followed one by one. Eventually, they vanished beyond the dunes.

And the sun rose on a blood soaked ground, littered with bodies.

***
TBC
***

Back to index

Chapter 2: II

II

Goku had been saddled with the backpack. Hakuryuu couldn’t carry anything in his state... the dragon was in shock from bloodloss and obviously suffering from the wound and the heat. Hakkai had closed the cut, but it sprang open again as he walked, and red blood leaked down the front of his shirt.

So they’d stopped again as Hakkai tended to the dragon. Sanzo had discretely taken up position in the meager shade offered by a small rock outcrop, trying to grab a brief rest. Gojyo took one look at the dark shadows under his eyes and opted not to complain.

"How much further is it?" Goku asked, his voice loud in the silence. "I’m dying here! I’m getting blisters and my stomach is--"

"Oh just shut up already," Gojyo said wearily. "You lose more water when you whine."

"I’m not whining! I’m--" he paused as something hit him. "Huh? What’s this? And who threw it--"

"It’s a map. Please find out where we are," Hakkai said, from where he was crouched over Hakuryuu. The words were polite as ever, but anyone could hear fatigue and irritability in his voice.

Gojyo peered over his shoulder. "Well..."

"Hey, isn’t this something?" Goku’s finger hovered over a wavey line. The map was crude, hand-drawn and not entirely accurate. But there was definitely something there. "I think it’s a river!"

"A stream, probably," Gojyo seconded. "Pretty nearby. Maybe a few hours away..." he looked at Hakkai. "We’ll get there by nightfall. Think the little critter’s up to it?"

Hakkai nodded briefly in acknowledgement. "Which direction?"

"North."

"I hope you’re right about this."

*

They walked for hours, making terrible speed. The sand -- there was more of it now, a lot more -- slipped underfoot. The dust was everywhere, making eyes sting and water.

Sanzo was in the lead. If the hours of walking took their toll it didn’t show at all -- what he lacked in strength he made up in stubborn determination. Hakkai was next, head bent and shoulders hunched, trying to shield Hakuryuu from the worst of the wind and the heat. Gojyo and Goku came after, taking turns to squabble over the bag. But the insults had grown fewer and further between with each dune they crested. Now there was just the sound of the occasional gust of wind, and the shifting of sand over sand.

As the sky deepened to a patchy purple, hope of reaching the river before nightfall evaporated. They only stopped when Goku finally refused to take another step, just let his feet take root and stared out over the endless sand and rock. The bag fell from his shoulder to thump ungracefully onto the ground.

"What’s up with you?" Gojyo demanded, and Hakkai turned back. Sanzo paused and glanced backwards.

"I thought we should have reached it by now," he said, staring accusingly at Gojyo. "You said that we’d reach the river in a few hours."

"Yeah, so I didn’t think we’d be moving this slowly," Gojyo replied.

"So let’s just take a break," Goku said, flopping down beside the bag. "I’m tired of carrying this thing."

"We move on," Sanzo said, and the strain in his voice might have been from unacknowledged weariness or annoyance. Possibly both.

"I’m not moving another step until we get food," Goku shot back, resorting to petulance to hide his worry. Only the shift of his eyes to where Hakkai stood, swaying noticably, gave him away. Healing inevitably tired the man, and the relentless trek had likely drained him down to his last reserves.

Sanzo must have noticed, because he failed to pursue the matter. They stretched out on the sand, still warm from the day’s heat. Three were asleep in a matter of seconds.

It was pitch dark when Sanzo roused them, pitch dark and freezing. The dust obscured the stars, and the moon had set.

"It’s not even light yet," Gojyo mumbled. "How do you know which way you’re going?"

"This way," Sanzo said, without preamble, and turned and strode off. Hakkai followed wordlessly, leaving the other two stumble in their wake.

They’d taken about a dozen steps when they saw what he’d been aiming for -- on the horizon was a handful of shimmering lights.

"A village?" Gojyo asked.

"A village?" Goku said, leaping forward. "Food? Water? A bath?"

Hakkai brushed the hair out of his good eye, and ventured a smile. "They do look like dwellings. Shall we?"

And they pushed on, revitalized. As the first light of a new day broke in a shower of red and gold, they found themselves on the doorstep of the first of the houses.

*

It was brick, a sturdy affair that obviously had stood the test of time. Now they saw the stream, a thin trickle of water that ran behind the house. The ground was green with a scattering of plants in neat rows -- the inhabitants were evidently subsistence farmers. The only other buildings they could see were still far in the distance -- other farms further upstream and down.

Hakkai knocked -- it was generally accepted that he was their spokeman whenever one was required. "Excuse me...?"

There were hurried footsteps, and a corner of the curtain in a window shifted. There was more movement, rapid, unintelligible conversation. The sound of something falling over and a strangled curse.

"If it’s not too much trouble..."

The door creaked open, just a little. "Who is it?"

"Just four travellers. Our dragon was--"

But whoever it was behind the door wasn’t listening. There were more whispers and louder now : It’s them! The Sanzo-ikkou! It really is them! He’s as they said -- gold hair, chakra, sutra...

Sanzo sighed and rolled his eyes.

The door was flung open, and a boy who barely came up to Goku’s waist stood nervously in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. "Mummy-said-to-come-in-and-she’s-really-honored-to-have-you-as-guests" he blurted out in one breath, apparently adressing his feet. He couldn’t have been older than seven.

"Many thanks," Hakkai replied, with a friendly smile. The kid seemed to relax somewhat. "I hope we’re not imposing," Hakkai continued. "We don’t plan to stay long."

"Yeah, but we’re really hungry..." Goku supplied.

"I’ll-tell-mummy," the boy said, bobbing his head in what might have been a nervous bow. "Please-come-in." Then he turned and fled into the interior.

They stepped in, and the warmth was pleasant in contrast to the cold they’d just come out of. Hakkai shut the door behind them. It was smaller than it looked from the outside. Several futons were rolled up and stacked in a corner, and most of the room was taken up by a scarred wooden table. A single door led into another room, and they caught a glimpse of the kitchen through the doorway.

A pair of bright eyes appeared in said doorway. "Hi there," Gojyo said. The eyes widened, and there was a high pitched shriek, followed by the sound of something scampering quickly away.

"Not good with children, our kappa," Goku smirked.

"Your ugly mug probably scared her off."

"I’m terribly sorry," a new voice said. A woman appeared from the kitchen, dusting her hands off on her skirt. Gojyo started, and Sanzo glanced sharply at him. "Oh... nothing," Gojyo mumbled. "Just that... for a moment there, she looked like my mum." Except that her long hair was tied up neatly and functionally into a bun, and where his mother had been thin, almost fragile, this was evidently a woman used to hard work. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, a face of wrinkles and stern lines.

"We don’t often have guests, and the children are a little shy," she was saying. "Come out and say ‘hello’, dears."

The boy reappeared, trying to hide behind his mother, along with the owner of that pair of eyes, another boy, and much younger. "Hello" they whispered in the ghost of a voice.

"I’m Mei," their host introduced herself. "And ..." she looked a little flustered. "I didn’t expect to have Genjo Sanzo himself turn up on my doorstep... it really is a surprise..."

Sanzo nodded minutely in acknowledgement. His expression was unreadable.

"We apologize for intruding," Hakkai said, "But we’re in need of supplies, and one of our number was injured. If we could make use of that stream..."

"Injured?" Mei said, sounding shocked. "Which one of you? But all of you look to be in perfect health!"

"It’s our dragon, actually," Hakkai said, as Hakuryuu peeked out of his embrace and blinked groggily. "He took a nasty cut."

"Oh, I’ll get something to put on that right away," she said. "And as for the rest of you? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Both!" Goku crowed, before anyone else could answer. "Starv--"

The rest of the words were lost in the thud of a descending paper fan. "Shut up and show some manners, ape," Sanzo growled.

"Hey... speak for yourself," Goku replied, nursing the bump on his head.

"Just make yourselves comfortable," Mei said. "I’ll be right back." Then she vanished.

"Well... whaddya know," Gojyo said, taking a chair and leaning back. "We made it after all."

One of the children -- the older one -- reappeared shortly with bandages and a damp towel. Mei came in shortly after them with food and pitcher of water. Clay mugs appeared from a rickety cupboard, and wooden plates, chipped and evidently well used. "Do help yourselves," Mei said, still radiating nervous energy. "Are you comfortable, Sanzo-sama?"

Sanzo looked at her. "Are you the only one working on this farm?"

"Ever since my husband died a few years ago," she nodded.

"It must be hard, supporting two young children," Sanzo said, with what might have been a touch of sympathy.

"Well..." an apprehensive smile. "We get along."

Sanzo nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Oh, no need for thanks," Mei said hurriedly. "And ... sir--"

"--Hakkai," Hakkai supplied.

"Hakkai-san... I have this little poultice that we use whenever someone gets hurt bad. Works like a charm, it does, especially with all the dust from the desert..."

"Thank you, but a bandage will be sufficient," Hakkai returned with a smile. "It’s not very deep, and what works on humans may not work on dragons..."

"Oh, I’d not thought of that. How silly of me."

"Could we have something to eat? Please?" Goku begged, as his stomach seconded the notion with an audible rumble. "I think I’m going to wither away and die..."

"Of course," Mei turned back, looking flustered. "I’ll cook up something right away..."

"How’s the little squirt?" Gojyo asked, as their host left them.

"I don’t think he’ll be able to use this wing for a while," Hakkai replied, with a slight frown. "I’ll just bandage it up really tight and it should heal on its own, but we might have to walk for a bit. It’s a pity, because I doubt that we can find room to stay around here. They have problems enough looking after their own without looking after us as well."

"...Besides," Sanzo added softly, "She’s lying."

All eyes turned to him. Sanzo glanced significantly across the room to where the futons lay.

"What..." Hakkai started to ask, then it hit him.

There were four futons, and none of them had acquired a coating of dust that seemed to settle over every object that stayed stationary for any period of time.

"Oh come on, bouzu... aren’t you jumping to conclusions here?" Gojyo asked. "Maybe one of the neighbours came for a sleep over... you know, or something... Or maybe one of the kids wants an extra mat... Maybe they just dust those things off really well..."

Sanzo shrugged. "Believe what you will."

"Paranoid old monk," Gojyo muttered, helping himself to the water.

"Whatever the case, we move by nightfall," Sanzo told them.

--

A/N :

The point of the story isn’t clear yet. But it will be in subsequent chapters. Just as a hint, though, I rarely choose titles that have no relation to the plot ^_^. (And guesses begin to fly in the background...)

Now I have a choice. I can make this angsty, or I can make it *really* angsty. ...^_^ Any opinions?

Back to index

Chapter 3: III

III

The arrival of food was preceded by an aroma which hit the gut and sent primal instincts into overdrive. Goku sat up and literally began drooling. Gojyo would have poked fun at him, but his stomach embarrased him by setting up a growl before he could say a word. Even Hakkai turned to glance at the kitchen, and Hakuryuu perked up.

Sanzo lit a cigarette.

Goku’s eyes sparkled as Mei and the children returned, bearing trays. "Is it all for us?" he asked, hands clasped together. He was practically bouncing up and down in excitement.

"I’m afraid it’s very humble fare," Mei said, "But do eat as much as you wish."

"Alright! I won’t stand on ceremony! Itadakimasu!" Goku grabbed his chopsticks and began to shovel food onto his plate.

"Hey, slow down, you stupid monkey!" Gojyo yelled, grabbing for the plate of dumplings that Goku had appropriated for himself.

"Do save some for Hakuryuu," Hakkai observed with a smile, taking a drink while waiting for the two to slug it out.

Goku looked instantly guilty. "Sure, have some." He passed Hakkai the remainder -- all of two dumplings -- as Gojyo raged.

"Hey, there’s lots more stuff," Goku grinned. "Try eating vegetables, for a change." As Gojyo made a grab for his plate, Goku tipped it up and swallowed all its contents in one gulp.

"Idiot monkey!" Gojyo howled. "Well, I’m taking the rest!" He swiped madly at the remaining plates, and began eating as fast as was humanly (or half youkai-ly) possible. Hakkai chuckled at their antics, and helped himself and Hakuryuu to more. Even with Goku’s appetite, there was plenty to go around.

They were almost ten minutes into the meal when Hakkai noticed that Sanzo had failed to touch anything. Slightly worried, he glanced over at the priest, who was somewhere through his second cigarette. He hadn’t even drunk any of the water.

"Not eating, Sanzo? This might be our last good meal in a while."

Sanzo gave him a level stare.

"Is something wrong?" Hakkai asked quietly. "I know that you have--"

Then Hakuryuu gave a small "kyuu" and promptly flopped over.

At the same time, Goku shoved back his chair, half stood, and collapsed against the table, gasping for breath. Sweat beaded his forehead. Hakkai was on his feet immediately, but he had barely taken one step when his vision swum madly and a pounding pain blossomed in his head. He faltered, and his palm hit the tabletop with a crack at the same time Gojyo dropped his chopsticks and slumped forwarding, clutching his head.

Sanzo stood, retrieving his gun in the same motion.

"Poison," Hakkai gasped.

A dozen swear words sprang to Sanzo’s mind. Poison--- but how? Why? And is there an antidote? he wondered.

Movement caught his eye, as a small shadow ran past the kitchen doorway. He took a step in that direction, fully intending to catch and interrogate any or all members of the household...

...When he saw a flash of silver to the right. He turned--

--and a footlong dagger slammed right through his shoulder and into the wood behind.

"Sanzo!" Even in the grip of gut churning nausea and a headache that seemed to split his head apart, Goku stilled summoned the energy to take two steps in Sanzo’s direction before falling over. "Sanzo..."

Sanzo swore through clenched teeth, reaching up to grasp the hilt of the dagger. There was no way a human could have thrown a dagger such force. Which meant that...

...he cursed his carelessness. Of course. Of course. This was youkai territory. They had walked right into a youkai settlement and never realized. Until it was too late.

The memory of chattering voices at the door returned: It’s them! The Sanzo-ikkou! It really is them! He’s as they said -- gold hair, chakra, sutra...

Not awe. Fear. The desperate scrabble of people looking for youryoku limiters.

He had been a fool.

His vision abruptly flashed black, then returned, red misted. Pain exploded in his head as every muscle seemed to freeze. His legs gave way, and his weight must have been sufficient to yank the dagger out of the wall, because when he next could see, he found himself on the floor looking up at Mei.

He saw the power limiter then, an innoculous pendant -- wondered : how could I have missed it? She had another knife in her hand, poised to strike.

Poison on the blade. Shit. Twice and thrice blasted. But he refused to die, and certainly not to the likes of poison and a stab in the back. If only he could reach the Smith and Wesson--

--a foot came down on his hand, and another kicked the gun away. He could have screamed in frustration. But there was still one recourse when the easier one failed.

Closing his eyes, he marshalled his thoughts around the pain and rapidly began reciting the mantra that would unleash the power of the Maten sutra.

But even as he struggled for the words, the world went dark, and darker, and thoughts disintegrated until absolutely nothing remained.

***

Sanzo opened his eyes.

He saw the desert, stretching out sickly gray under a pale moon. The wind raised thin films of dust as it crossed the dunes. He saw... Hakkai leaning against a rock, his eyes shut, and Hakuryuu snoozing by his side. He saw Gojyo, unconsciously hunched up against the cold, muttering soundlessly in his sleep. He saw Goku rolling over his onto his back, his mouth opening in a snore.

And he saw himself reach over to push Goku back on to his side.

Realization hit him as the first arrow whizzed past to shatter on rock, and youkai swarmed out around them. He glanced around, seeking some way out -- some illusion, just some dream -- when there was a wrench of freezing cold and darkness, and the scene switched.

He saw the sun setting on a small farm. A river ran in the back, beside a field where green sprouts in neat rows grew. He saw Mei, the two children. Tapered ears and clawed fingers.

Another youkai emerged from the house, buckling on a sword belt. He spoke quietly with Mei, and many words must have been exchanged, but Sanzo heard nothing. Then Mei turned, and the children ran forward to hug their father goodbye...

...and he saw their faces.

Some emotion wrenched at his heart in something akin to physical pain, then the scene shattered again--

--and he raised his Smith and Wesson to put a bullet between the youkai’s eyes--

--and he saw a youkai lift his blade to run his teacher through--
--and he saw Mei’s face promise me you’ll come back--
--and he saw a spray of blood and--
--shock horror dread denial--
--I couldn’t protect him--
--Daddy, save us from the bad men!--
--Promise me--
--The youkai rose, a bloodied sword in his hand and--
--You’ll come home and--
--The youkai raised his blade--
--Right, Daddy?--

--and when he screamed a cry of denial and brought his gun to bear, it was Koumyou Sanzo in front of him, a bloodied sword in hand raised to kill.

And now you know, his teacher said, still wearing that gentle smile.

For a moment, he saw a youkai corpse at his feet. And somewhere, a child burst into tears.

Oshou-sama never raised his hand to kill.

Not ever, not that night, not when the youkai had poured into the room intent on stealing the sutras. Koumyou could have marshalled the power of two sutras, could have picked up a weapon and fought, or even resorted to martial skills.

But when Sanzo had stepped forward, fully intending to protect his teacher to the death, he had found Koumyou blocking his path instead.

"And now you know."

The ground was littered in corpses. Human. Youkai. Half breeds. He had killed them all, efficiently, mercilessly, left their rotting bodies for the ravens. Now he saw behind those nameless faces. This one had two children. This one had an aging mother. This one had died to save another. This one, and this one, and this one...

"And now you know."

And all excuses simply failed in the face of Koumyou’s knowing smile.

"Oshou-sama..."

But that wasn’t enough. That had never been enough. How could one argue with a man who’d chosen to die instead of taking a life?

And there was nothing in that smile that hinted of rebuke, but he could hear the accusation as clearly as if Koumyou had spoken it aloud. You defied all my teachings. You destroyed the sanctity of life.

Koumyou raised the blade he held and levelled it at his throat.

Sanzo closed his eyes.

***
TBC
***

...I need to take a quick opinion poll. I originally intended to do a similar scene for each of the characters, based on their own experiences, but frankly, it’ll be more of the same, and I don’t know if I’ll bore people out of their minds by the time I reach the fourth one.

On the other hand, leaving it as Sanzo-only would be rather imbalanced.

So what do you think? Should I write the PoVs for the rest, or should I just move on with what’s left of the story? (Which, as you can probably tell, isn’t very long.)

And the votes for really angsty vs just plain angsty stack up 5:3. ^_^ *takes notes*. *refuses to say more*.

Yes. I can’t resist writing Sanzo abuse. You must have figured that out by now. ^_^

Back to index

Chapter 4: IV

Regret burned at the back of his throat, a bitter taste. Regret of... what, he wondered. It could not have been of death, for that was something he’d surpassed a long time ago... if he’d ever experienced it at all. Perhaps it was regret at failing, yet again, falling short of his quest of the Seiten sutras. Yet that all-consuming goal was not foremost in his mind at the moment. It was something else, something whispering in the dark, dusty corners of his mind--

--when the dam broke, it was like a tidal wave sweeping over him, battering him relentless and crushing him under its weight. His knees buckled, gave. His eyes shot open, unseeing, caught in a flood of memories he had not touched for years now.

He remembered pulling the trigger, at point blank range, not even seeing the bullet exit the barrel. There had just been an explosion of flesh and blood in front of him, the would-be attacker’s face still locked in an expression of surprise.

Human. Not even youkai. Some petty robber who’d probably been as desperate as he had been.

"Those--" he ground out, trying to shove away the emotion with logic. But his jaw locked as more memories leapt to the fore.

There had been so many of them. He couldn’t even remember if they were youkai or human; all they were were mangled corpses on the ground, leaking blood from bullet wounds. Dead by his hand, a pool of death in an expanding circle with him as a center. Their blood weighed at his robes, splattered across his hands and his face.

This one had a family, a voice whispered in his mind. This one had an ailing mother, this one two children...

"No," he whispered, nausea welling up in his stomach. "No, no."

How many? he wondered desperately, like he’d never wondered before. How many lives to my account? Human? Youkai?

There had been that passerby, he remembered. The one who’d found a bedraggled and blood splattered priest slumped by the side of the road. The one who’d unwittingly touched him on the arm--

--said priest had put a bullet between his eyes before even realizing what he’d done.

Now he understood, with the sick feeling of unwanted knowledge. Now he understood the pain behind each death, the ripples that spread with every gunshot, every corpse he left behind. For every life he took he ripped apart countless more. And still more, as grieving relatives came for revenge.

He floundered under the crushing sense of pain and guilt, that which had dogged his steps since he’d left Kinzan temple. Somehow he’d learnt to put it aside, but the old mantras... the old excuses... eluded him now.

"Those... those..."

He’d failed utterly, he realized. Become everything that his master would never have wanted him to become. A priest who obeyed no letter of his faith, a man who slaughtered any and all who got in his way...

The gods had sent him to find a murderer, once. But he was no less a murderer than that man.

He looked up, and his teacher was still standing over head, the sword still raised. The blade went up, pulling back for a strike.

If that is the way of things, then so be it. He dropped his gaze, mind still wracked by the grisly memories of previous encounters. So many lives laid--

--A sudden pain flared in his shoulder; stabbed through the numbness in his limbs and shot through his mind like a bullet from his own gun.

He rolled aside as the sword bit into dust, thoughts churning furiously in confusion.

"No," he breathed. "This does not make sense." He glanced around at his surroundings, seeing nothing a muted blood red glow all about. And his teacher, not quite smiling anymore, staring at him.

"Those..." he frowned in concentration, trying desperately to recall. "Those who... kill... must be prepared to die in turn."

There was a sudden quiet in the turmoil in his mind.

Slowly, he forced himself to his feet. "If you are to accuse me of being a murderer, then who are you to claim my life in return?" he asked softly.

There was no reply, just the deathly silence.

Thought was rapidly becoming clearer now. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be -- the real world was a desert and a cottage -- and a bloody dagger stuck through his bloody shoulder. The guilt was real enough. The pain was real enough. But this place wasn’t, which could only mean one thing.

Someone was messing with his mind.

He looked around again. The blood red glow stretched on forever. It annoyed him. He could smell the blood, the coppery smell of it and the not-quite-there feeling of it splattered all over his hands and robes. He didn’t look down to verify that. He knew what to expect, but knew equally that it wasn’t real.

I deserve to die.

The thought wormed in through the others, causing the breath to catch sharply in his throat. Even if this is not real, I deserve to perish here. The world would be a better place.

"Shut up," he growled.

The thoughts were his own. That much he was sure of. The confusion and the never ending barrage of questions in his heart were his own. What was I supposed to do? Should I have died that night? Stayed at Kinzan temple?

"It would have made no difference," he said out loud. "Whether I stayed or I left. Kinzan Temple was attacked that night. Someone would have died, which ever way it went, and that is not the answer to this riddle."

Koumyou Sanzo did not reply, and his words disappeared into the silence without an echo.

I have to get out of here, he thought. Again he surveyed the area, and again found nothing. His eyes came back to rest on his teacher.

It would be better if he said something, he thought bitterly. In silence there is everything of condemnation and nothing of acceptance...

His gun was in his hand with merely a thought. It would make this easier.

He raised the Smith and Wesson, aiming directly at Koumyou’s forehead.

It’s not real, logic told him, but logic was a small voice compared to the doubt in his heart. And what if it was? And so what if it isn’t? What does this show me, except that I would murder even my own teacher to accomplish my own ends?

"Is that your answer? Genjo Sanzo."

He didn’t know. He truly didn’t know. "It was the only thing you ever taught me."

I can’t, the desperate thought arose. I can’t do this. His finger locked on the trigger, unable to find the strength to pull it back. Here in this place that was no place at all, where reality and imagination blended... how was he to tell what was real and what was not?

I killed him, the thought occurred with sudden force. That night, back at Kinzan. I killed him surely as if I had stabbed him with that blade. I killed him in my own weakness, my own failure to protect him...

His arm shook, as it had not shaken since he was thirteen.

"And will you continue down this road?" Koumyou asked softly. "Digging yourself deeper and deeper into your own grave, until there is no hope of return? Or would you stop, lay down that gun, and turn from this madness while you still have the chance?"

I offer you redemption, his teacher’s words said. I offer you a chance to undo mistakes of the past...

It was like a hand thrown to a drowning man, and Sanzo grasped desperately at it. His gun arm shuddered, fell to his side, and he stared at the gun, revolted by the red tinge that marred its silver surface. He was tempted to discard it, fling it from himself into the darkness. Turn from this life and start anew.

He closed his eyes, hefting the gun, pulling back his arm--

--but still, still some part of his mind held him back. Still, something buried in his subconscious forced words to his mouth, words that tumbled from dry lips to voice the thought that he was trying to ignore.

"But what then?"

He paused, raised his head to look around. "What then?" he asked dully. Then, as if the words had been the precursors to an avalanche, the thought blossomed, full-fledged, in his mind.

There is no new road. There is no other path.

"All that is done, is done," he said softly. "There is no undoing the mistakes of the past. There is no choice; the choice was long made."

"And can be remade," Koumyou’s voice carried to him over the still air.

"No," he answered, shaking his head even as his heart screamed with regret. "If I must slay countless more to save the world from the madness of the Minus Wave, then I must. I have come too far to stop now; I have killed too many to allow their lives to have passed in vain. I cannot accomplish this quest by peaceful means."

"You can find a way."

He met Koumyou’s eyes. "There is no way. We do not live in an ideal world. I cannot leave enemies alive at my back, any more than they could stand aside and allow me to stop this resurrection." He smiled bitterly. "I cannot be one of those monks hidden away in the temple; I cannot pretend that death is not part of who or what I am. It is too late; the choice was made the day you died."

He could feel the stinging pain of the knife wound again. Somewhere, he was slowly bleeding to death. A younger Sanzo might have fled into this world, to hide there until the end. A younger Sanzo might have embraced the fleeting hope so temptingly offered by his teacher. A younger, more idealistic Sanzo might actually have flung the gun away.

But he was no longer seventeen; he was no longer the person who’d embarked on this quest a year back, believing it to be simple enough to accomplish on his own strength. He was not even the person he was yesterday.

And so he drew back the hammer of the Smith and Wesson, and the click of the round chambering echoed all the way into the depths of his soul. I do not claim to understand; it is not given to us to do so. And perhaps you are right, sensei, perhaps I am damning myself to the deepest Hells. Yet ... you died, and left me to understand the best I could. This is not you speaking, no matter how much I wish it were so. And so, given my imperfect knowledge, my imperfect understanding, I can trust only in myself. And I see no other way.

"I am sorry, oshou-sama."

The wind picked up as he fired. But the bullet flew straight and true. It impacted between the eyes, as it always did, for Genjo Sanzo always shot to kill.

He stared at the crumbling form, something twisting and dying in him as the wind howled louder. Sand churned and flew into his eyes, sticking to his face where trails of moisture flowed, unnoticed, from eyes to chin.

Then the world went incredibly bright.

***

Silver met silver. The barrel of the Smith and Wesson collided heavily with the knife as it plunged towards his throat. Sanzo blinked, once, and Mei’s collar was in one hand, the Smith and Wesson in his other hand, and pressed against her forehead.

Somewhere, the knife clattered to the floor, presumably flung away by the force of his parry. A child whimpered in the background.

There was surprise in Mei’s eyes, and something more. If he concentrated, he could see the burning red glow of that... other place within their black depths. If he concentrated, he could almost hear Koumyou’s voice echoing back to him.

"You cast that illusion," he said flatly.

"You are truly a killer, Genjo Sanzo," Mei said softly. "There is no hope for you."

He choked back the emotions that that simple phrase enacted. No answer seemed adequate. He slid his eyes towards one of the children, who stood, crying softly. "The antidote to the poison. Get it."

The child balked. Sanzo narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip noticably on the gun. "Get it."

With a terrified nod, the youkai scurried into the kitchen.

"What depths will you stoop to?" Mei continued calmly. "Threatening children by holding their mother hostage, after killing their father... Will you kill them to? Or will you just kill their mother, and leave them to perish?"

Sanzo’s eyes snapped back to meet hers. Knowing black eyes that stared straight into his soul, that whispered doubt into his beliefs and overturned his arguments. Sanzo did not answer.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the child returned. Sanzo’s arms were shaking, and pain drained the blood from his face and cast a mantle of sweat on his forehead. "Give it to me," he directed, and releasing Mei’s collar to take bottle. Slowly, he stood, clamping his teeth hard on his lip to stop the cry of pain.

"Go," he said softly. "Leave, all of you. We will depart within the day, and payment will be left for all that we have consumed this day. Keep your distance and I will reimburse you for the inconvenience; hinder me and I will not hesistate to remove you."

Mei stood, and the calm, knowing look in her eyes unnerved him. She knew as well as he that this would haunt him until his dying day.

He waited until they were gone before uncapping the bottle with the fervor born of desperation. One long mouthful, then he rushed to Goku’s side, coaxing him back to awareness. They were not so far gone as to be completely unconscious, and when he pressed a cup containing the antidote to Goku’s lips, the youth had enough strength to swallow.

Sanzo watched his face critically for any signs of recovery. Goku slumped back against the floor, but his breathing seemed less labored and the faintest flush of color was visible in his face. Sanzo allowed himself a quiet sigh of released tension before moving on to Hakkai and Gojyo. By the time he had administered the antidote to Hakuryuu, Goku was breathing peacefully in the calm hold of sleep.

Sanzo collapsed bonelessly against the wall, ignoring the flare of pain from the shoulder wound. It would have to be washed and bandaged, but for now he lacked the strength to even stand. They had to rest... he needed to rest, and not even the his customary caution when in enemy territory could stop his eyelids from drifting shut.

***
To be continued.
--

A/N :

While my attention is undeniably drifting from Saiyuki (back) to LoTR; while the vastly higher quality of LoTR fanfiction (in general) is leaving me rather unsatisfied with my current work...

...I assure you that I have no intention of abandoning this fanfic. It should be concluded in one, maybe two chapters, after which I will turn my attention to ‘Impossibility’, ‘And Time Again’, and possibly ‘Count the Stars’.

I would have completed this chapter earlier if not for the sudden onslaught of schoolwork (I was absolutely unaware of the passing of time during October and November, except that the school library was not so crowded when I was working there on Sundays.) Following which I was literally struck from my chair by illness while typing this chapter; if there is a sudden change in direction midway, that’s the reason... I’d forgotten what I was writing by the time I came back to it.

Thank you for holding on; I know how frustrating cliffhangers are (and I didn’t give you one in this chapter. Isn’t that nice?) I will not be doing a full equivalent of what transpired for Sanzo for each of the characters, although I’m still undecided as to whether to do it in brief.

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Chapter 5: V

V

Voices lulled him out of sleep; the soft echoes of whispered conversation. For a moment Sanzo considered rising, but the lethargy of sleep was almost overwhelming. If the others were up and talking there could be no immediate danger, he reasoned, and relaxed, shifting to find a more comfortable angle against the wall.

"I had the strangest dream," Goku’s voice floated out of the dark.

Hakkai encouraged him with a brief "Hm". Sanzo would have rolled his eyes if they were open.

"I saw one of the youkai I killed this morning ... except that he was alive and well and saying goodbye to Mei and the children, or something. I think he was part of their family."

Ah, Sanzo thought. Ah.

"And...?" Gojyo prompted.

"And that was about the sum of it," Goku replied. "I mean, I felt a bit sorry for the kids there, losing their dad..."

There was a silence.

"A bit sorry?" Hakkai asked, eventually.

"Yeah, he would have killed us if we hadn’t killed him, right? And then ... if he had killed Sanzo I would have been upset, so I guess the kids must have been upset too..."

Another pause, and Sanzo could imagine Goku sitting there, chewing on his lip, thinking it over.

"Was it wrong? To kill him, I mean."

So strange, Sanzo reflected. That the same vision can lead to such different interpretations. If Hakkai were to tell him now that the killing were justified, then he would happily accept it and forget it by tomorrow, else accept it and live by that belief for the rest of his days.

"Did you have the same dream, Gojyo?" Hakkai asked, evading the question.

"Actually, yeah. Except that my mum was in it, and... well, it was sort of strange. I was wondering: What if Jien had been the one in trouble and I’d been the one with the sword..." There was the sound of a cup clunking against wood. "Still, I figure that there wasn’t really time to think. I’d probably have... done the same."

"So is it wrong?" Hakkai asked, and the smile was almost audible in his voice.

"Luck of the draw, I suppose," Gojyo replied in a manner that was just a little too forced. "I never really thought about it before, well, maybe in a sort of abstract way. Figure there’s such a thing as karma, Hakkai? Fate? ‘It’s your time to go means it’s your time to go’?"

"What do you think, Sanzo?"

He cracked an eyelid open, and saw the three of them seated in a half circle on the floor, staring at him.

"I’m not thinking at the moment. I’m trying to sleep," he replied, and closed the eye again. "Besides, Goku asked you first."

"So he did," Hakkai said thoughtfully.

And of all of us, you must have had the most time to ponder upon this. The guilt that nearly killed you four years ago has only just touched us now. You must have come to terms with it, or forgotten it, or learnt to justify it. How would you answer the question?

"I’m afraid that any answer I can give is only my poor, imperfect interpretation of the matter..." Hakkai murmured. "Yet I believe that there is never any justification for killing someone, never any adequate reason. There may be such a thing as Fate--" a pause, an unseen shake of the head "--but even Fate is no excuse for the grief that we cause to others by the taking of a life." He trailed off, and Sanzo could imagine the skeptical look upon Gojyo’s face and the wide-eyed surprise on Goku’s.

"And?" he prompted.

Hakkai chuckled. "Did I say there was more?"

"There is," Sanzo replied flatly.

"But it is not given to us to be martyrs, I suppose," Hakkai replied. "And there may come a time where we will have to atone for all the bloodshed. But for now... I’m alive, and I intend to stay alive for a while longer. ‘Those who kill must be prepared to be killed in turn’... isn’t that how you would put it, Sanzo?"

"No," he said softly, and rose. "No, that is not how I would put it any more." Turning his back on their bafflement, he strode to the window, and stared out upon the sunset.

"You didn’t kill Mei or the children," Hakkai said from behind him. "You let them go."

"We cannot undo that which is done," Sanzo replied cryptically. "I wouldn’t obsess about it if I were you." We are not the gods, who may sit in judgment above, so removed from this world and it’s strife. We are not the gods who need not sully their hands with the petty struggle to survive. He glared at the sky above, and it was red, beset by the light of evening. I will not obsess about this.

Yet when he closed his eyes he saw the children staring at him, terrified, and he knew that the answer would never be that simple. One day, he thought ruefully, this will come back to haunt us. And it may well prove our downfall. A fatal hesitation in the heat of battle... He saw Mei in his memory’s eye, her gaze cool and knowing. Of all the enemies we have faced on this long road, you certainly did the most damage.

"Gather our supplies. We’re leaving." He flexed his shoulder experimentally, and was gladdened to find it stiff and sore but decidedly less painful. Hakkai must have found the strength for some healing work.

"You don’t really believe that, do you?" a voice cut in. He didn’t need to turn to see Gojyo hovering just out of sight.

He shrugged.

"You’re pretty quiet. Want to talk about it?"

"No." He shot Gojyo a brief glare.

"The kid’ll be fine, you know. He’ll think about it, but he won’t let it get to him. And Hakkai’s either come to terms with it... or it’s nothing new. What about you?"

"What makes you think that I know what you’re talking about?"

Gojyo scrubbed absently at his cheek. Sanzo brought a hand up, and found a trail of dried tears on his own face. Cursing, he swiped at it.

"So?" Gojyo asked. "Was it the same dream? Those youkai we killed last night or this morning or whatever time of the night it was... and their families?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Sanzo growled.

"Figures," Gojyo shrugged easily. "I was thinking, you know, that maybe they’re right. Maybe we should stop massacring everyone in our path."

"Then you’re free to walk out that door and go back to your shack."

"Ooh. Touchy, is he? But he couldn’t give a damn, I s’pose. Killed one, killed them all. Doesn’t make a difference."

Funny how their conversations always turned to dangerous baiting. Sanzo had had enough of it for one day... or a week, or for the rest of his life. "If you want to talk philosophy, Hakkai is just over there." He stepped away, and headed for the door.

*

They were halfway down the road out of town before they met the crowd.

Every villager, even the children -- especially the children -- had been turned out and stood, blocking the road. Small hands grasped any manner of weapons they could find, and determination set their faces... but terror lurked in their eyes and was betrayed in the tremble of white knuckled hands.

Sanzo cast an eye over the assemblage, and took a deliberate step forward. There was an aborted shuffle as the closest children stumbled backwards before remembering to stand their ground.

"Sanzo..." Goku said, inching forward, readying himself to summon Nyoibou. "If I take out--"

Sanzo extended an arm and shoved him backwards. The youkai followed his every move with wide eyes. Mei was nowhere in sight, but he could feel the chill of her gaze falling on him, challenging him, daring him to give the order to attack.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a humorless smile. He glanced around once more, and they flinched under his dark gaze. Then he spoke.

"If you truly believed yourselves capable of killing us, you would not be hesistating now. If you truly believed that you could win, you would be descending upon us as I speak." His low voice cut cleanly through the stillness, weaving an invisible web about them, snaring their attention.

"Yet you do not. You see your brothers’ and fathers’ deaths in our faces, your revenge hanging within your grasp, and yet you do not move." He took another step forward, the crunch of sand underfoot painfully loud. No one moved.

"And I could cut you down, every single one, here and now, but yet you do not strike first." There was a ripple of anger at that, and clumsy grips on various weapons tightened. Sanzo smiled sardonically, emanating relaxed confidence.

"You hesistate, for this path was not one you choose willingly, nor one that you are ready to take." He glanced down at the nearest child, who cowered.

"Those who kill must be prepared to be killed in turn," he intoned quietly. "That is the Cycle of Karma." The words fell into the silence, each one echoing like the clap of an invisible gong.

Sanzo looked up again. "You are not ready to be killed." And he strode forward.

The crowd melted away from him. It seemed as though no one moved, yet a path opened for him, and for the others who followed silently after. Goku stared at Hakkai in wide-eyed wonder, and the other responded with a slight smile and a rueful shake of his head. Gojyo wore a look of dry amusement on his face.

Sanzo was almost clear of the circle when someone struck. Movement exploded from the side, a shapeless blur. Goku tensed to spring forward, a cry of alarm on his lips. But before he could move, the movement came to a grinding halt. Sanzo grabbed the descending arm at the wrist, and with a sharp twist, snapped the bones. The knife that would have embedded itself in his throat clattered away to the ground.

It was Mei, eyes burning with hatred, lips twisted in a snarl. Sanzo regarded her dispassionately.

"I have tried to kill you," Mei spat. "Would you kill me now? Priest?"

Sanzo did not reply immediately. There was a wail, somewhere in the crowd... a child calling out for his mother.

"You’ve certainly butchered your fair share of youkai," Mei continued. "What’s another one? And another?" She glared at him. "Kill me. I am prepared to die."

Wordlessly, Sanzo released her arm. As Mei gaped at him, he turned and walked away.

"Coward!" Mei cried. "Fool!"

He paused and half turned, silhouetted against the setting sun. The wind brought his words to her ears: "I would not damn the rest of this village by giving them a reason to kill." An almost hesistant pause. "You have two young children. Who will they look to when you are gone?"

"You would kill them without a second thought," Mei said. "Like you killed their father. And so many others. As you slaughter youkai on this Quest... crusade ... of yours."

A glitter as light reflected off amethyst eyes. A sigh, so soft it might have been imagined. And that voice, calm and clear. "I travel to the West to curb madness, not to cause it."

Mei watched as he departed silently. Only after all five had disappeared into the deepening gloom did she allowed the tears to fall. On either side of her stood a young youkai child, and their expressions were thoughtful.

-End-

A/N:

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