End of Days by Elvaron

Index

Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Prologue

End of Days
by sf

Begun : March 13th 2003

Rating : PG-13
Classification : Dark, violence, angst, drama, non-yaoi.

Foreword :

I was once told that in Western literature is 'author-obligated'; which is to say, the author is obliged to explain all that transpires to the reader. On the otherhand, Asian literature is said to be 'reader-obligated', which places the onus on the reader to decipher the proceedings.

Thus, I leave it to you, dear reader.

This fiction is intentionally extreme in characterization. While not strictly out of character, it originally stemmed from the idea of breaking apart all alliances and allegiances, then regrouping the characters and setting them at each others' throats. Gone then, are your traditional associations and goodwill towards one another. I find it easy to believe that there is a darker side to every character of the series, and have simply opted to coax that side out with the promise of blood, violence, and gore.

Consider yourself warned.

Summary : At last we come to the end of days... [AU fic, a darker, distorted Saiyuki].

This is an Alternative Universe fiction based roughly on Kazuya Minekura's Gensomaden Saiyuki. Events herein are entirely non-canon.

Warnings :
1. Spoilers, specifically, the Nii-related spoiler for volume #7, #8, #9 of Saiyuki. If you haven't read it by now, I'm sorry, but I'm not pandering to the less priviledged in this fic.

2. Updates will be really slow for this fic. If you thought the others were bad, you might notice it took me almost two months to write the prologue.

PROLOGUE

As a child, you learnt trust; a trust that the icy bars of your cage would someday give way to light; a trust that the snow would one day give way to sun; the trust that the sun would remain by your side forever.

And these they did, in their own fashion, and long after the first had happened, as the second came and went and came again, the days went by, day after day, and there was the sun in your life, and you were content in your belief that this would be so for always.

But as a child you could not comprehend the vastness of forever. Even for one who had lived over five hundred years, forever was the next day, the next night, the next week.

One day, forever came to an end.

One day, the sun left, and did not return.

Less of a child, you learnt new lessons. You learnt shock, grief, loss. You learnt of the temporal nature of things, of regret, of longing. Less of a child, you wandered the hallways of the temple, and the streets of the town, willing him to return quickly, wondering why he had left without you.

And the days passed, one by one.

Older, you heard the whispers, that he had gone and would never return, that he had abandoned all, that he had gone to start a new life elsewhere. And as days turned into months and then into years, the gnawing seed of doubt that was planted at the beginning began to grow.

Abandoned. You shunned that word, bearing no one who uttered it to your face. You learnt more now, the dark tangle of betrayal, the icy plain of despair, the sullen flame of resentment. And the questions came, why did he leave why didn't he take me was there something wrong, in a trickle that became a torrent that became a tide.

And one day, when the moon rose on another night without answers, you took to the road that he had taken, three years since, to follow a trail long gone cold.

***

He stands somewhat off to your right, black hair framing his pale face, mismatched eyes calculating. Or attempting to look as such; that sardonic smile and the haughty stance do nothing to conceal the array of emotions within. Anticipation, divulged by the rapidfire words, wariness, revealed in the tense pose, and there, on the edge: nervousness, betrayed by the darting of the eyes from side to side. The wind realizes that, and flicks playfully at the edge of his purple cape. Annoyed, he plasters the material down.

Or in a circular way, perhaps that is the image he intentionally projects, to make one overestimate him. As if a mortal would overestimate a god. Nevertheless, this is a field where both fear to tread.

"I have the Seiten sutra." He breaks the silence.

Smoke curls away in a thin spiral. You withhold words, opting to allow the third party to answer on your behalf.

To your left: another streamer of smoke not your own. The muted glow of a cigarette. A flash of movement, of someone pushing his spectacles up his nose. "Interesting." A low drawl, claiming neither acceptance nor rejection. "Interesting." The cigarette goes out. He rummages in his grubby lab coat pockets, producing paper, more cigarettes, keys, and no lighter. Used to his antics, you flick yours across. Without turning, he catches it in midflight. There is a spark in the darkness. Then the lighter comes sailing back to you.

"There exist five sutras," the man -- the god -- continues, encouraged. "I hold two. The remainder--"

"--exist," your colleague cuts in smoothly. You shake your head, shoving cold hands deeper into pockets. Not for the first time, you wonder how he became a Sanzo. But then again, you often wonder that of yourself. Neither of you are anything resembling servants of the gods. But you were, once, and the god in front of you knows that.

"Doesn't it intrigue you?" the slight jingle of chains as he shifts position.

"What?" you ask.

"The thought of a new world. Without the shackles--" no little humor there "--of the old order. A fresh beginning. Where wrongs can be put right; where there are no wrongs, just an empty slate, waiting to be filled. Where you could have anything you wanted -- money, power, land..."

"None of that interests me," you respond at the same time your colleague chuckles. "But the idea has merit," he concedes, speaking your mind. "At the very least, it would be fun." He glances across at you, and the stuffed rabbit under his arm regards you with beady eyes and a stitched smile. "Wouldn't it, Genjo?"

Throwing your cigarette to the floor, you grind it out under your heel. "Perhaps," you concede.

***

Beginnings III -- Sunset

Someone shoves another beer into your hands, and you cheerfully pop the tab. Your brother gives you a grin and a thumbs up; your friend glances sourly at the can.

"Don't drink too much. I don't fancy dragging you home," he warns.

"You couldn't. I'm taller than you. Besides, you'll have to drag Jien home too, and he is way taller than you."

"My point exactly." He fiddles with his earrings, the last reminder of his mother.

"So... princeling, beer's not good enough for you?" your brother asks, pushing another can over.

He receives a glare. "Don't call me that."

"Drink up. The night's still far too young to be sulking. We're all running from our pasts, remember?"

As with the sun... the music and the cigarette smoke swirls around you, in a feeling vaguely reminiscient of home. As close to home as you'd ever get, at least. You pull out a pack of well worn cards. "A game?"

"No stakes," your friend says.

"Yeah yeah, what's the fun, stakes between friends and family," you reply with a laugh. "Come on... it's no good telling us not to call you Prince if you insist on acting like one."

"You're way too upright for your own good," your brother nods.

"I just don't get the same kick out of drinking and gambling that you two do."

"I learnt from the best," you reply easily, kicking your brother under the table.

"Yeah? And I wasn't even around during your teenage years, you dirty little liar."

"Walked out, and let me fend for myself in a cruel, harsh world..."

"You seem to have managed fine on your own."

"Only when I was drunk."

And you are drunk, or at least mildly tipsy. But meeting up with your brother again after ten years does warrant some kind of celebration.

A breeze gusts in from the open window, and your friend irritably brushes his hair out of his face. Your brother squints in the fading light. "Hey, you have red hair too."

You slam the window shut. "That's how we met up," you tell him. "Thought he was a half youkai too... turns out that he didn't have the red eyes to match."

"I still think it's amazing that you haven't ripped each other's throats out yet."

"Hm?" your friend glances up, and begins dealing the cards. "I got tired of that about five hundred years ago."

"Ripping people's throats out?"

"Then I learnt that you didn't have to do that all the time."

Your brother thinks he's kidding. You happen to know that he's not. Son of a youkai king and his first wife, sealed for five hundred years when Nataku Taishi stormed the palace and killed his father, recently unsealed and trying to run from his past...

...his amount of angst is comparable to yours. Well, almost.

The door opens, and someone enters on a gust of wind. No one bothers to look up, until the barkeeper announces, rather loudly, "You're a bit young to be drinking, son."

"Hey, look. A kid," your brother says.

"I'm eighteen," the 'kid' announces irritably.

Your friend whistles under his breath. "That's an impressive limiter."

"No shit," you reply. "Most youkai don't even bother with them..."

It is a solid circlet of gold, nestled around his head. It is definitely the largest limiter you've seen.

"Think we can win anything off him?" your brother asks.

"Sure," you reply.

"You never know. Some of these kids are deceptively wiley."

"Well..." picking up your beer and another, unopened one, you wander over to where the youth is seated. He glances up as you draw near.

"New in town?" you ask.

"Passing through. Listen, I'm looking for someone, blond hair, purple eyes, red chakra in the middle of his forehead..."

"Never saw any--... hm."

But it was a couple of years back... maybe three...

"Droopy eyes?" you ask.

The youth nods vigorously, and hope shines on his face. "Where is he?"

"He passed by here several years back, actually..."

Hope fails in the other's eyes. "Which way...? West?"

"I don't know, actually. Might have been west." You shrug. "Up for a game?"

There is a pause as he deliberates -- not necessarily thinking of your offer. But at the rate the thoughts show on his face, he wouldn't win anything at poker--

--a hand rests on your shoulder. You glance up. "Kou?"

"He's gone to Tenjiku," your friend says gravely, his voice more serious than you've ever heard.

The kid glances up, startled. "How would you know?" When no answer is forthcoming, and your friend begins to turn away with a sigh, he springs to his feet, repeating the question with increased urgency. "How do you know that? Where is Tenjiku? What's in Tenjiku?"

"...Genjo Sanzo, was that his name?" your friend demands.

"...Yes."

"Guardian of the Maten Sutra." He nods. "It makes sense. I heard... I thought... it wasn't likely. But they're gathering the sutras."

"Whatever for?" you feel obliged to answer.

"I don't know. Their objectives have always been unfathomable. Nevertheless..."

"Stop being a wet blanket," your brother cuts in. "Who cares about these Sanzo types, anyway? Let's--"

The kid latches onto the labels of your friend's jacket, practically bouncing up and down. "Where is Tenjiku? Why would Sanzo want to go there?!"

"In the West. Far in the West."

"Nice and vague," the words spring back, sarcastic.

"Why are you following him, anyway?" your brother asks.

"...None of your business." The kid turns away. "If you're not going to be helpful--"

"--hey, we already gave you a name. A place. That's pretty helpful," you object.

"There is something very wrong..." your friend mutters.

"Stop forecasting doom and gloom, old man," you laugh.

He shakes his head. "No, something is definitely wrong. The sutras have great power. Whatever they are doing, if it involves Nii Jieni, it cannot be good."

"Who is this Nii fellow?" the youth asks.

"A former Sanzo." He shakes his head. "No... this is terrible news. I must return immediately."

"What?" you ask. "You've barely been here a few years or so, idiot. And you're going to hightail it all the way back to Ten-whatsitsname based on a hunch? Are you kidding?"

"No." Purple eyes glare back at you. "If this hunch is correct, then the very world itself is at stake."

You slap your forehead and groan.

"Take me with you!" the kid half pleads, half demands, desperation etched in every syllable.

"You're nuts," you pronounce loudly. "Who do you think you are, saving the world?"

"A youkai prince, perhaps?" the wry reply returns.

"Hey hey, bro, fancy a roadtrip?" another voice cuts in.

You glance up, glaring accusatorily. "Not you too?!"

"I'm tired of this town already. Too small, bad pickings, bad beer..." your brother, ever so prone to wandering, shrugs and smiles light heartedly. "Wouldn't mind moving on. What do you think?"

"I think you're nuts. I think we're all drunk and should go home and sleep."

Your brother laughs gently, and claps you on the back. "Not while the night's still young. Come on, deal us a hand."

"Totally insane, all of you," you announce, shuffling the cards. Outside, the setting sun dyes the sky a brilliant red.

***

Starlight was what brought you here, the first time. Cold and silver, it bathed the stone and the water, and here it was you sat and pondered the Heavens.

And you know -- that you did this once, a long time ago, yet you did no such thing. The contradiction twists and turns and chases its own tail, a confusing clash of memory and memory, a puzzle that intrigues you no end.

Solitude was what brought you here later, when you sat by the lake's edge and watched the ripples run away. You had no where to go, no where to turn to, where, at the end of all things, you were left with nothing but the blood of those you had torn apart, and, bitter irony, the very blood that you split runs within your veins now.

With a clawed finger, you stir the water's surface, just to watch it break, just to watch the reflection of the stars above shatter.

Once there might have been anger, there might have been guilt; there might have been fervour and fury and many things. Now there is quiet, and you listen to the silence in your head.

The world is a matrix of lines, a web of energy that can be gathered and harnessed and used. You are aware as you never were of the power that runs, through the soil beneath, through the trees around, through yourself. Idle, you allow a bulb of light to grow between fingertips. It is green, a harmless burst that flies and zigzags just above the surface of the lake; a lost firefly.

The world is a matrix of lines, of alliances and armies and arrangements, and you contemplate this with a scholar's care and a scholar's concerns. This far removed from the civilization -- in the wreckage of the castle that was once your enemies', the affairs of the outside may drift by without finding harbour. You consider them as a student might a mathematical problem, turning it over and over in your mind for the sake of occupying the hours. Then you release it, and like the light, it falls away and tumbles into darkness.

When at last the clouds move to cover the stars, when at least your thoughts slow to the idle pace of leisure, you deign to speak. "You must have a lot of time."

"All the time in the world." The voice is distinctly feminine.

"Indeed."

"You seem rather free."

"There is nothing to be done."

There is the rustle of cloth, perhaps silk, and the feeling of a presence nearing. It is neither youkai nor human.

"What are you?" You could turn, but you suspect that you would not find answers.

"A God. A Goddess," a careless reply, an easy one. One that needs neither proof nor substantiation.

"Which?"

"Both. And neither. Does it matter?"

"No," you concede, and shift to make more space on the stone slab that serves as your seat.

"You don't seem very impressed."

"Should I be?"

"Most are."

I have been human. I have been youkai. Should I be impressed by anything of this world? "So. Has the time come for divine retribution? Or is this, perhaps, a gesture of assistance long overdue?"

"Both. And neither."

You turn your head, ever so slightly. She is seated to your left, a gaudy affair of white and gold and black. She leans back, contemplating the sky. "It looks prettier from down here."

"The stars?"

"Heaven."

"Heaven is relative."

"True, that."

"So what does Heaven want?"

"You used to come here often. I'm beginning to see why. It is pretty."

"Ah. Riddles. The past. Good for speculation and nothing else."

"True again. But the past has a nasty habit of rearing its head and biting you in the ass."

You smile at that. And wait.

"Heaven wants an emissary," the goddess says at length.

"And its usual ones are astray?"

"They are, as a matter of fact. Very far astray. So far astray that Heaven needs a new emissary to hunt them down and bring them to justice."

It is amusing. "I see. Retribution and assistance and neither at the same time. Do this, and Heaven will overlook all that has transpired, hm?"

There is a sparkle in her eye. "Heaven, as a matter of fact, is dispatching its own emissaries. Of course, they are known to be stunningly inefficient..."

You take the conversation and listen to it again in your head. Distill the words, said and unsaid. And when you have turned it around and around and studied it from every angle, the picture becomes clear.

"And you are not here on Heaven's business."

"Not officially, no."

"So..." you cock your head. "Why drop such information within my hearing?"

"Was that, 'why drop such information within my hearing' or 'why drop such information within my hearing'?"

"Both. And neither."

She laughs at that. "Well done, Marshall. Or, one should say : former Marshall."

"Riddles never answered questions."

"Of course not. So let us say that there were five sutras that were used to create the world. And there are five sutras capable of destroying this world in the creation of a new one. Let us say that there were five protectors of these sutras, and now there are two. Let us say that the two protectors are considering putting the sutras to the purpose for which they were once designed..."

"Why not destroy the sutras?"

"They are made of the fabric of the earth. If they were to be destroyed, then the entire earth must be destroyed in the process." She shrugs.

"Better that they were lost to all time..."

"Obviously impossible, given the prying nature of living things."

"And Heaven is not interfering?"

"Heaven is interested in saving their collective behinds. Unfortunately, the Toushin Taishi has been missing in action for a while, the army has been in confusion since events a long time ago, and their ineptness has been honed to an art by millenia of sitting still."

"And you think this will interest me."

"You were human. You are youkai. Both are part of the world." She glances up, where the clouds have moved again, and the stars are visible behind a thin wispy haze. "And there is much to see in the world."

"Hm."

She gestures towards the far horizon of the lake, where a red star is rising. "It rises over Tenjiku. That is where everything ends... and everything begins."

Then there is a shimmer of movement, and you are alone once more.

***
To be continued
***

Back to index

Chapter 2: Chapter 1

End of Days
Chapter 1

The computer screen flickered once in the near dark, the power in the building going a little erratic. The mad woman throwing temper tantrums upstairs might have had something to do with it. Disruption of electricity was no mean feat for a human, yet a paltry trick for an element-sensitive youkai; and fortunately, that was all it was -- a little bit of insignificance and no real show of power.

Genjo Sanzo blinked slowly as the lines on screen reformed themselves, the supposedly uninterruptable power supply cutting over. Too slowly and too irregularly. He would have to raise the issue with the technicians... there had probably been data corruption.

He grabbed the mug on the table and took a mouthful of coffee long gone cold. One hand tapped impatiently at the arrow keys of the keyboard as his eyes scanned the screen’s readout. Damn, but it had been a long and fruitless night.

The power hiccuped again, evinced by the flicker of the light bulb illuminating his work bench. He cursed under his breath.

Tenjiku was several up on the temple in Chou’An. It had better facilities and more space, and it was enchantingly, blissfully, deserted. For most part, that was. The odd youkai still wandered in and out, and then there was Gyokumen, the former concubine of the long deceased Gyuumao. Once, she’d had delusions of grandeur -- didn’t we all? -- and some said that she still dreamnt of reviving Gyuumao and ruling the world. Unfortunately, a large part of her base of power had crumbled when her stepson walked out, taking wellnigh all her servitors and soldiers with him.

So now she roamed the huge, empty mansion that had once been a palace, still pretending, or honest-to-god believing that she was still on the road to power. So now she forked out of Gyuumao’s reputedly bottomless coffers to pay a small team of scientists to work on the great Gyuumao Revival Project.

They held meetings whenever she deigned to descend to the lower levels. Nii, well acquainted with the art of bullshitting, danced the dance of words around scientific terms that meant all of nothing. His esteemed research fellow, Genjo Sanzo, nodded at appropriate intervals. Gyokumen, suitably impressed, would increase their funding.

Sanzo strangled another curse as the light flickered and died. The computer continued to hum merrily, and more banks of text flashed across as new data was reported. If he wasn’t on the damn woman’s payroll -- no, even if he was on the damn woman’s payroll, he still wanted to strangle her and put her out of her misery. And put myself out of her misery while I’m at it.

He started number-crunching the new data, exhausted. One hand snaked towards the pack of cigarettes, extracting the last one. ...Query... subject... query... subject... They were conducting research and working overtime, even if it didn’t quite center around Gyuumao’s resurrection...

Self-motivation was always the best motivator.

He heard the shuffle of slipper-clad feet just as his eye caught a string in the middle of the garbage. He hardly heard the clang as Nii wandered around the laboratory and knocked something over.

"A slow night?" the scientist asked, hovering somewhere off to his right.

"A very slow night," Sanzo replied, his eyes never leaving the screen, his fingers running over the keyboard.

"Nothing interesting at all?" Nii sounded amused.

"Not even a whisper," Sanzo shot back, speaking around the unlighted cigarette hanging between his lips. He fired the query at the system and sat back as digits and symbols came racing back.

He slammed the chair back, missing Nii by micrometers. "Excellent." He glanced at his colleague, and glanced back at the screen.

"Hmmm, a slow night," Nii said, agreeably.

"A busy day tomorrow. I’m heading out." Sanzo jabbed a finger at the map that had popped up. "Here. A city in the desert. Here, a youkai encampment. This line, the trail of the Sanzo I’ve been tracking for weeks. It ends ... right here. Right in the youkai base."

"Well, well, well. The fourth sutra, if we count Homura’s. Good hunting, Genjo."

"Thank you." Sanzo stood, grabbing the lighter. He paused before lighting the cigarette. "So don’t wait for the most romantic moment to say what’s on your mind."

"Oh, nothing much." Nii smiled, patting the stuffed rabbit. "Just a little idle curiosity."

"Then it can wait. I’m going to bed."

"Oh, but it’s the little things that should be cleared up as soon as possible. You never know what will happen tomorrow. Someone may die. Isn’t that right, Kouryuu?"

Sanzo froze. "If it has anything to do with--"

"No, no, of course not. I was wondering about your apparent dislike of Homura."

Sanzo relaxed, by a fraction. Then he shrugged, lighted the cigarette, and took a deep drag. "What about it?"

"Seeing as how he might be a future colleague of ours..." the bunny canted its head and regarded him with a knowing look. "Is it Homura, or is it his idea of creating a new world? Or perhaps... is it Homura?" Nii chuckled, and the bunny smiled.

"Don’t even start." Two years ago, the reply might have been heated, but he’d learnt a few things, and how to discourage -- or at least not encourage -- Nii was one of them. The words came out icy smooth and as cold as a corpse.

"Then what could it be?" the bunny wondered.

Sanzo bit back a flash of annoyance. "’I have the Seiten sutra’, he says, so boldly. He knows that I am my teacher’s successor. He knows who was the last bearer of the Seiten sutra."

"So you think he killed Koumyou," Nii said.

Sanzo shrugged. "He has the abilities and the youkai support to do so. Those were not ordinary youkai that attacked us that night. The sutras did not work on them."

"So Genjo has a grudge," Nii told the bunny. "Isn’t that sweet?"

"As honey. With dead ants in it."

"Aww, he’s angry."

"Whatever. Just keep that scumball away from me. You can go and deal with him. Go foster your sarcasm on him while you’re at it. I have work to do." Sanzo turned to leave. Then he paused, and turned back. "Do you actually trust him?"

"Oh... trust. Such an elusive thing. Is it important?"

"Not necessarily."

"We haven’t even established why you’re here," Nii nodded.

Sanzo shrugged. "I don’t know, myself. Good night."

He was halfway across the room when Nii’s parting shot came drifting to him. "Oh, just remember... it’s never a good idea to argue with a business partner."

"Don’t worry," Sanzo called back, and the words were bitter.

***

He turned the ear clasps over in his hand. They caught the faintest glimmer of the rising sun.

He was making a move now, his back to the red light in the East. There was much to see in the world, after all.

He turned the ear clasps over in his hand again. Youryoku limiters. Definitely useful when passing through human civilization. In this part of the world, at least, youkai were still feared and hated.

To become the thing you abhore... he shook away thoughts. There had been plenty of time for reflection, and there was still time ahead. For now, though, there was time for movement.

Smoothly, he clipped the clasps into place, shuddering slightly as the transformation took hold. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, a mere shadow of the first transformation from human to youkai. That had been horrendous. This... this was merely a bad memory.

He took a deep breath, and stepped out of the castle’s ruins.

It felt good to be on the road again. It felt good to be in the open, under the light of a fresh sunrise, where the wind was cold and clear. This was the real world, away from sheltering walls. Where it was bitterly cold and acridly hot. This--

--he fired the ki ball without even turning, and was aware that it passed through empty air. He whirled, and fired a second blast, which shimmered through nothingness once more.

"Peace, Marshall," the newcomer spoke.

"I am not a Marshall," he replied easily. The intruder was not youkai, that was certain, but those abilities bespoke of a non-human as well. "Another god?"

"Indeed."

"So. Are you part of the ‘Heaven’s emissaries gone astray’ coalition?"

"No." The voice was calm, moderated. No emotion leaked through to the surface to be detected and acted upon. The man -- the god -- was a shut door. No, a mirror, reflecting back what you chose to see.

"I am here on the Bosatsu’s orders. Assistance, if you please."

"Really. And where did you come from?"

"I serve the Toushin Taishi."

"But the Toushin Taishi, from what I hear, is having a grand time contravening Heaven’s directives."

"You are mistaken. I serve the Toushin Taishi -- the office, not the office bearer. Now that the officer has gone astray, the office demands that he be disposed of, and a new Toushin appointed."

"I see. Are you acting independently?"

A slight dip of the head. "Heaven has directed that I assist you."

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. "Reinforcements from Heaven?"

"The task ahead will be difficult. The former Toushin is, in himself, a great threat. Now he has gathered allies to himself."

"And Heaven will not take no for an answer?"

"One presumes not."

"Then I am grateful for the assistance." Hakkai nodded. "I trust you know my name. I trust you know that it does not come prefixed with a ‘Marshall’."

"I understand. I am Shien."

"Then... Shien... we head West."

***

"Kid...kid, you should drink so much," Dokugakuji snatched the bottle out of Goku’s hand. "Jeez, man, you’re going to be absolutely sloshed! This thing is a hundred and sixty proof!"

"I’ll drink what I want to," Goku slurred.

"How many bottles has he had already?" Dokugakuji asked the barkeeper.

"This is his third. On top of two beers."

"And then there’s the little thing about the tab," Gojyo grumbled. "I don’t earn all that much, you know."

"I have money," Goku shot back, a little too loudly. Heads turned.

"Not any more, you don’t," Kougaiji announced. He pulled out Goku’s wallet and emptied the remaining coins out onto the table to pay for the drinks. "All gone, now. And you didn’t even cover all of the tab."

"Thought I had a lot more when I started out..."

"Who taught you to drink, anyway?" Dokugakuji asked.

"No one," Goku replied, the shade of a sulk worming its way onto his countenance. "I picked it up myself. Gimme back my drink."

"No more alcohol for you. What drove you to start drinking yourself under the table, anyway? When you were travelling alone, to boot. I’m surprised you got here in one piece."

"I fight well," Goku said defensively.

"That might be another reason why he has less money than he thought he did," Gojyo murmured to Kougaiji.

"The price of the drinks?"

"The damages. And someone probably lightened his purse for him while he was out cold."

"He’s not very good at looking after himself, is he?" Kougaiji shook his head.

"Well, trust my big brother to set him straight," Gojyo chuckled. "Just look at him."

"Drinking doesn’t solve anything, kid. You have to face your problems."

"Rather face them after a few drinks. After all.. afterall, it’s not... notasif he’s gonna come back," Goku muttered. "And I’m not gonna find him... damnit, I’m going to bed."

"Good idea," Kougaiji seconded. "We need to start picking up supplies. We have a long desert crossing ahead of us, and--" he stopped when he realized that no one was talking to him. Dokugakuji was guiding Goku towards the stairs, and Gojyo had sequestered himself at a table where there were more women and cards. "A strange bunch," Kougaiji mused to himself, glancing out of the window. The night hid the sight of the desert rolling away towards the West. He had crossed it once, with Dokugakuji, back when it had just been both of them. And Yaone. He wondered what had become of Yaone. They’d almost reached this town, he remembered, when she’d disappeared one night without a trace...

***
To be continued
***

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