Count the Stars by Elvaron

Index

Chapter 1: Prologue: Traveller
Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Pursuit
Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Conversation
Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Meetings
Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Interlude
Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Storm Warnings

Chapter 1: Prologue: Traveller

Inspired by Alan Parson's 'Days are numbers, The Traveller'.
Started : September 23rd, 2002.

Foreword :

This idea came from two sources of inspiration, the first being Alan Parson's 'Days are numbers, The Traveller' (main idea), and another being an unnamed, science-fiction short story by a friend (itch to write an AU fic). Later, when contemplating taking my leave from fanfiction.net, the start of an idea unfolded in my mind -- an alternate universe fiction in which they were travelling, but not to the West. Dropping 'The Shadows Beyond', literally in the middle of a sentence (transcribing from paper to computer), I hit Ctrl-N in Microsoft Word and began typing as fast as I could. Somewhere, this protoplast fused with an earlier speculation on Sanzo, the mission, and the Three Aspects, undergoing a serious metamorphosis into its current form.

This piece I dedicate to grace -- best friend and constant source of inspiration. I only wish I could inspire you in turn.

Summmary :
AU fic. The world has fallen into chaos, the ones destined to save it have not been found.

Warning :
AU, no real plot. Sanzo-centric.

Rating : PG

It was ... the search for a clearer sky. Some place where the sun shone and the rain didn't fall.

The search for a place... where the grass was always greener than on the other side.

And, most importantly, the search for a place that lay outside time, for happiness is temporal, and fades in the wake of the passing Hour.

But such a place... perhaps did not even exist. Not in this world, where Time was the master, and Change was the only constant.

So he wandered, from place to place, staying only a few years, then moving on as experiences soured and the initial welcome faded.

He was a wanderer by nature, and, so some said, by choice, although he saw no choice in it all. There was simply no place worth staying. Villages fleeted by, towns came and went under his feet, cities came, stayed, then passed in their own time. Of memories, he carried few; all places became the same after a while.

Gray walls.
Gray streets.
Different people who looked the same.

It had become worse in recent years; the destruction had spread with the Minus Wave. The stories were always the same - youkai going berserk and destroying villages, tearing apart towns, assaulting cities.

The carnage raced like a plague through the land, demolishing all in its path and broking no resistance. The homeless and destitute were everywhere, desperately undertaking the journey to find a sanctuary.

Wagons creaked past him as he strode through their midst, brushing past toiling humans and toiling animals. He spared them not a glance; he cared not about their plight, for all of humanity was in the same dire straits.

He was human and therefore counted as one of these poor, lost souls... and yet, he did not. For him, the road was as close to home as anything had ever been, except, perhaps, a distant temple from the even more distant past. That place, where he'd spent thirteen brief years as a child, had been razed to the ground the night he had left, or so the rumors said. And since then, there had been no turning back. Ever.

Everywhere he turned, people glanced at him, noting the priest's robes with a glimmer of hope, a glimmer that faded as soon as he passed. He was not the one the legends spoke of, the Sanzo whom the Three Aspects in Chou'An temple were searching for. The last Sanzo, the one guardian of the Firmament Foundation Sutras who had not perished or forsaken his duties. The one who was destined to save the world.

No one knew whom that Sanzo was. No one knew where he was.

The thought of a mere human stopping the Minus Wave made him shake his head in disgust. An impossibility. A vain hope. The 'last resort' propagated by temple authorities to give the masses faith in them and their abilities.

He knew... that all hope was futile. If the one so appointed as mankind's savior had not appeared by now, he never would.

There was a tug on his sleeve, and he glanced over irritably. An old man grasped the gray fabric of his robe and squinted myopically at him. "Priest..." he rasped.

He detached the clutching fingers from his robe with more than a flicker of annoyance. "I'm not the one they're talking about," he snapped.

"You're..." the man frowned, and uncertainty flickered across the wizened features. "Are you certain?" he said, the hoarse voice barely above a whisper. "They said, that he had hair of gold..."

A jolt of icy panic raced through him, as his hand instinctively fled to his temple, where the bandanna that he wore kept his identity a secret from all and sundry. It was, thank goodness, still in place. So the old fart was just making wild guesses.

"I'm not him," he said vehemently, and stalked off before the situation could degenerate further. It was bad enough that those nearby had started to give him odd looks. If the secret were revealed--

--no, it did not bear thinking about.

Pulling the wide-brimmed straw hat further down over his face, he quickened his footsteps.

Behind him, on the long and winding road saturated with fleeing refugees, the sun sank towards the Western horizon.

***

He came to the city a few days later.

There was the usual trouble at the gate. Guards who listened to too much gossip for their own good noted the golden hair and leapt to conclusions, detaining and interrogating the young traveller in hopes that he was the Sanzo that everyone was desperately searching for.

"I'm not him," he repeated, for the umpteenth time that day.

Yes, they looked alike.

Yes, they both had golden hair.

Yes, they were both priests.

But no, they weren't one and the same.

His name, he told them, also for the millionth time, was Kouryuu, not Genjo Sanzo. He was a journeyman, far too young and inexperienced to possibly hold the highest title in Buddhism. The priest that they were looking for could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be twenty three years old.

No, he had never met the esteemed Sanzo houshi, no he was not from Chou'An temple, he was from a little local temple in a small village, a small backwater affair that had been destroyed by youkai...

That, at least, was the truth.

Relunctantly, nursing fallen hopes that they had fooled themselves into raising, they let him pass.

It had been a long day, and he was mortally glad to disappear into obscurity at the nearest inn. The innkeeper at least, did not ask shrewd questions about why he wasn't holing up at the local temple. The innkeeper knew cold, hard cash when he saw it, respected that his clients did not welcome questions, and did not make life difficult for one priest who wished to escape notice.

He did not argue with the requests for strong drink and cigarettes either.

It was, after all, business.

He had never been more glad to disappear into his room and barricade the door against the world outside, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter in one hand, and a bottle of whisky in the other.

Some of those questions had come too close for comfort. It wasn't lying that made him uncomfortable - he was used to it, and it bothered him about as much as smoking, drinking and killing did, which was to say, not at all. Nor was it the guards themselves - such people held no fear for him. Rather, it was the constant threat of discovery that hung over his shoulder.

Discovery of who he was. Discovery of the burden that he carried.

It was that scroll, that innocent scroll that was made not of paper, but of the very substance of memory. That scroll, one of the five that had been involved the in creation of the world and entrusted to five, mortal keepers and their appointed successors for all eternity. That scroll, that sutra.

It was last legacy of his master and embodied within it his masters' last command -- to protect it with his life. That was the one and only command that he respected, the single order that he would obey, no matter the cost.

It was the reason why he fled East now, away from the source of the Minus Wave, away from those who were hunting for this very artifact. It was the reason why he had forsaken his real identity and ignored the summons. It was the reason for the loaded gun by his side and the trail of corpses that he had mapped in his long travels.

There was no point in bringing the Maten Kyomen into danger on a useless mission. Assuming the rumors were correct, then it was the only one that had not fallen into the hands of the enemy. If that were so, then his first and only duty was to guard against its capture. For that was the only way to forestall the resurrection of the Demon king - to deny them the very thing that they sought... and, as such, the only way to ensure the survival of mankind.

He would find a place a where it -- and him -- would be safe, forever.

And if he failed in that, then he would flee to the last place on earth. And when all other courses had failed and all sanctuaries had fallen, when darkness had finally taken over the entire world and all hope was lost, then he would make one last stand at the ends of the earth, a stand as futile as it were desperate.

And he would lose, the sutra would pass into the hands of the enemy, and an end would come of humanity and the world as they knew it.

But by then, it would have long ceased to matter.

***

Author's Notes :

1. Count The Stars was originally written for posting on my blog only. However, I decided not to be a prig and to post it on ff.net... what's the sense in DoSing (Denial of Service-ing) the ones who love you? --;; Please be gentle; I'm still very much in love with this fic, seeing that it's as good as Respice but not as dark and is Sanzo-centric. Yes. Sanzo-centric. Very Sanzo-centric.

2. For those who have been wondering about my other fics -- I haven't abandoned any of them, except for Gakkou and perhaps No Angels -- which, in the spirit of junk fics, should be left incomplete. I am, however, hopelessly stuck for Reverse Psychology, and I'm relunctant to move on for And Time Again, since the next chapter will change the entire flavor of the AU. Also, I've been concentrating everything on this fic and Respice Finem in an effort to finish them -- unfinished fics are a major, major pain.

3. Due to the advent of Real Life, to whit, Examinations, updates will be slow across the board. I am also suffering from a dearth of good Saiyuki fanfic, a situation that is feeding my writer's block.

4. Chapter 1 to follow soon. Alternatively, you could always read it off my blog (linked my author's page, fics found under 'SF WORKS')

Back to index

Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Pursuit

The night passed without event.

He rose early, woken by the sunlight streaking through the window slats. All was calm, which was welcomed news to one who had spent too many sleepless nights in the wild. In a large city, he could let his guard down by just that tiny fraction.

He glanced over to the table, where the unfinished bottle of whisky still stood. With but a moment of indecision, he shrugged and poured himself a glass. He had breakfasted on far worse in his life.

Today, he would gather news, news about youkai movements in the region. Perhaps this large, fortified city would be safe enough to stay in for a few days... possibly a week or two. He did not dare to hope that it would be more than that. The last city had fallen within 3 days of his arrival.

Out of habit, he checked the bandanna that he always wore, the one that concealed the damning red dot on his forehead. One could not afford to be careless, not even in a supposedly secure room with the windows closed and the door locked.

He studied the bottle, half tempted to pour another glass, then decided against it. He could not afford the luxury of drunking himself into a stupor, no matter how much he wanted to...

...and gods, he wanted to. Wanted to throw caution to the winds and just...

He shot that train of thought in the legs before it could proceed any further. No, he was not keen on bolting out of this place with both humans and youkai on his heels, the way he'd been forced to flee the last time he'd let his guard down for just a moment.

One too many glasses of sake, and an absent acknowledgement to the name of Sanzo. And the whole place had collapsed around his ears.

Never again, he swore. The times were becoming far too dangerous for that.

He moved through the crowds, careful to avoid unwanted attention. The loose cloak that he wore around the robes helped, certainly. Travelling priests were objects of much speculation these days. Travelling priests with amethyst eyes and gold hair... were simply asking for trouble.

At that thought, he pulled the hood closer and clung closer to the shadows.

There had been no youkai for a while. The Minus Wave had not yet reached this place, and the youkai who retained their sanity had left quietly rather than face crowds of paranoid humans. Those who had not left... had been forcibly evicted. There was no better defence against the madness than to avoid it altogether.

At least there had not been ... much ... bloodshed.

He had seen both sides going after each other's throats. Youkai going crazy and turning on human friends who had known them since young was old news. The more secret deeds inflicted by humans on youkai were no less bloody, just less talked about it.

Witch hunts. He'd nearly been pulled into one, three towns back. A priest, they thought, would have been a valued asset.

Muttered excuses about not being allowed to kill, and, more importantly, a quick exit, had spared him from that ordeal.

Non-involvement and non-attachment were the two beliefs that he structured his life around. His mission was far more important than being involved in these matters, even matters of life and death. He would kill all those who obstructed his path... but those who stayed out of his gunsights were safe from him. He had neither time nor bullets to waste.

He was not a savior.

The knowledge that youkai in this region still retained their sanity was a welcomed breath of fresh air. It seemed that he had outrun the Minus Wave for a moment, and a much needed rest was on the cards. Just three.. four... five days. That was all...

Ducking out of the crowds, he turned for the inn. He'd always hated crowds with a vengeance, and with the extra onus of maintaining secrecy upon his shoulders, the press of bodies and the sheer weight of numbers strung his nerves so taut that it was a miracle that they hadn't snapped.

It was then that he noticed the man, standing at the corner of a dark alley, halfway between the light and the shadow.

And if the red hair was any indicator, he also stood halfway between humans... and youkai.

The man turned, and he noted the red eyes, the tell-tale mark of a child of taboo, the product of intercourse between the human and youkai races. He did not know why the halfbreed was here. Certainly, staying in a human settlement with the youkai half of his heritage in plain sight was asking for trouble.

But he cared not. It was not, after all, his business.

Then the red gaze locked with his, and there was a start of recognition in the other's eyes.

He swore and ducked back into the crowd, vaguely aware that the half breed was hurrying towards him. Another one. Another one who knew...

He fled through the market with practiced ease, flowing through the milling masses like water through sand. Evading pursuit was a skill that he had learnt, a long time ago, a skill constantly deployed and which suffered from no lack of practice.

The stream of curses behind him, however, showed that his pursuer was following him with equal speed, if somewhat lacking in grace.

But he'd done his homework -- mapped out the layout of the place and discovered all the hidden alleys and nooks and crannies that could be ducked down and used to evade pursuit. Taking a sharp left, he disappeared into the darkness and vanished down a deserted sidelane.

He turned the corner and paused, the Smith and Wesson appearing in his hand with the speed of thought. And waited.

Silence echoed back down to him. No sound of pursuit, no slap of boots on cobblestones, no hurried footsteps. It seemed that he'd lost the man. At least the fool had the sense not to yell something that would have given the game away.

Or he could look forward to a massacre.

He waited another five minutes, but when no sign of the half breed appeared, he quietly disappeared down another alley, climbed over a wall, and made his silent way back to the inn.

***

No one looked up when he glided silently into the common room and headed for the stairs. There was no sign of the half-breed, for which he heaved a sigh of relief, and something unwound in his chest. But, damn it all, it still meant that he would be leaving a lot earlier than expected. Scowling, he began a mental count of the provisions that he would require to make it to the next town. It was, at least, a good week's travel on foot away.

He flung the hood back as he reached the door, welcoming the breath of air. It was mid-summer, swelteringly hot, and running around had not helped any.

It was then that it hit him, as he laid one hand on the door knob. The whiff of youki, that characteristic aura that surrounded all youkai. And it was faint enough that--

--the door was wrenched open under his hand. Even as he leapt back, someone grabbed him by the front of his robe and yanked him into the room.

There was a slam as the door closed behind, as he kneed the attacker viciously in the stomach and scrambled for his gun. The grip was released and he rolled away, seeking the advantage of space, and mentally measuring the distance between himself and the window. He prang to his feet in one move as the enemy came for him, and brought the gun up and snapped off the safety.

The other skidded to a halt. "Well. At least that's evidence enough that you're not an ordinary monk."

He swore. And swore again. And cursed himself for being utterly careless.

It was the half-breed.

"I'm not here to kill you," the man said, holding out empty hands.

He didn't reply. The gun spoke enough for him. But he didn't shoot, either.

"Ahhhh, you're hopeless." The half-breed sauntered over to the chair and dropped into it, brushing long, shoulder-length red hair out of his eyes. "If I'd really wanted to kill you, my weapon's right there." He glanced over to the side where a long, double-bladed metallic staff leaned against the wall. "So. Are you going to shoot me or what?"

"I should," he bit back. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Gojyo," came the reply. "Genjo Sanzo, I believe?"

The bullet whistled through thin air and slammed into the wall. Sanzo barely had time to wonder where his target had gone, when someone grabbed his gun hand from behind and slammed him, face first, into the wall.

"Idiot! Gunshots in rooms don't go unnoticed!" Gojyo snapped.

He snarled viciously and kicked backwards, and was rewarded with a curse. The grip on his hand didn't slacken, so he jabbed an elbow back, hit thin air, and suddenly, someone kicked his legs out from under him.

The last thing he saw was the floor rushing to meet him.

Then darkness.

Consciousness returned a minute or so later. He blinked, his vision blurring in and out unsteadily, then swore violently and pushed himself off the floor. His gun was gone. Damn damn and damn.

"Sorry about that," a voice said from somewhere to his right. "But then again, you were trying to kill me."

"Who the hell are you?" he ground out, staggering to his feet with one hand pressed against a throbbing temple.

"Gojyo. Sha Gojyo. And, I guess the chakra says what you don't seem to want to admit to."

It was then that he realized the bandanna was gone. Hellfires.

So. He'd lost the advantage for the moment. But the game was far from over. Sighing, he stepped over to the bed and sat down, since the only chair was taken. "Alright. You have my attention. What do you want?"

"Only the same thing that everyone wants you to do, Sanzo-sama. Save the world."

He was going to have the mother of all headaches in a moment. And the gun was nowhere in evidence. This guy was good. He was also, in short order, going to be dead. "And what if I say no?"

"I'm afraid it isn't really up to you to choose, is it?" Gojyo commented.

"It's my life."

"One life against the lives of millions. Isn't personal sacrifice supposed to be one of those Buddhism ideals?"

He was sick and tired of conversations like these. "No. It isn't. Not that I would buy it, even if it was."

Gojyo laughed. "No, you don't look like the sort."

Ah. So perhaps this wasn't going to follow those normal, tiring arguments that he'd had to face, usually at swordpoint, one too many times. Still, the outcome would probably be the same, and he'd be on the road East within a few hours. No one ever stood in his way for long.

"Still, you can't run away from it forever, you know. Everyone's after you. The youkai for your sutra, the humans for whom you are ..."

"Then I intend to run as long and as far as possible."

"... even the gods are pissed."

"What?"

Gojyo produced a pack of Hi-Lites from a pocket and tooking his time lighting up. Sanzo waited, quietly assessing the situation and trying to locate his gun. The search proved futile; it was not in plain sight.

A stream of smoke curled away as Gojyo exhaled. "Two weeks ago. I was quite happily -- well, quite unhappily, but that's another story, sitting at home. Then there's this flash of light, this blast of trumpets, falling confetti, birdsong--"

"--get to the point, damnit."

"Not patient, are you?"

No. He wasn't. Not when he was so furious that he wanted people dead. Preferably Gojyo. But the man had his gun and his sutras, and.. for the moment, his interest.

"Get to the point."

"Then this goddess appears. Kanzeon Bosatsu herself, if what her shadow says is right. And man, is she one hot--"

"--Get. To. The. Point." The headache was starting to make a grand entrance, alright. Where the hell was that bottle of whisky?

"Yeah. We talked. But the long and short of it is that... you're basically going in the wrong direction. So she pointed me in the direction, and said : Go and get him back. Normally, I wouldn't drop everything and run for anybody, but that witch can be persuasive."

So. Either this guy was lying through his teeth, or he had some serious evading to do. Not easy, when gods could reputedly see you whereever you were. "And why doesn't she turn up herself?" he asked, deliberately keeping his tone as skeptical as possible.

"Non-interference policy and all that. Can't get directly involved, because this is basically our business. Actually, it's probably more along the lines of : This is your world, Big Fat Demon King's your problem, fix it yourself." He glanced over, red eyes partially shielded by red hair. "And you, mister, are supposed to be in charge of fixing the problem."

"Which is exactly what I'm doing," Sanzo returned, leaning back against the wall. "I don't intend to bring the sutras into danger. Logically, it's the most stupid thing you could possibly do."

"Yes, but who's going to stop this whole thing?"

"If they don't get the sutras, they can't very well even start it, right?"

"You call this 'Not starting'?" Gojyo replied, a hint of anger seeping through his previously relaxed tone. "This Minus Wave nonsense and all that?"

"The Minus Wave will burn itself out sooner or later. Or they can send someone else. Someone who doesn't have his hands full looking after the sutras."

Gojyo jabbed the cigarette viciously into the asstray. Ah. Somehow he'd pissed the man off.

"Sooner or later?" Gojyo growled. "Define 'later', asshole. Look around you. Don't you see all the carnage and bloodshed? Or are you way too caught up in your own petty little troubles to care? It's all about you, isn't it? The world can go to hell as long as you don't have to get your hands dirty?"

If he'd not gone through this so many times before, he would probably have lost his temper entirely and gone after Gojyo, headache or no, gun or no, and not stopped until he'd beaten the man into a bloody pulp. As it was, he dug for his own pack of Marlboros instead. "As I said, they can always send someone else."

"Ah. I think I forgot to mention." The anger had gone cold now, an icy, biting sort of cold. "They need the sutra to complete the resurrection, we need the sutra to stop it. And, if you just happened to give a damn, there are two people who's lives are depending on you right now."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean that you screwed up. You should have gone to Chou'An a long time ago. There are three people who were supposed to follow you. One of them, much to my regret, appears to be me. The other two have yet to be found. One of them... is going to die if you don't stop this pigheaded running. The other one's been waiting for you for five hundred years. And, at the rate things are going, is liable to continue waiting for the rest of eternity."

This was rapidly becoming ridiculous. "And you expect me to believe all of that?"

"No. I expect you to buy the whole thing, turn around, get back on that road to Chou'An, and, incidently, stop companion number 1 before he goes on a rampage and slaughters one thousand youkai."

"Right," he replied sardonically. "And how do you know all of this, pray tell?"

"Divine intervention. I mentioned it before."

Sanzo rose and stepped over to the window. "And, just out of curiosity... what if I don't buy into all this nonsense?"

"Then I knock you over the head and drag you back to Chou'An where the Three Aspects can give you the ass-flaying of your life."

Sanzo turned from the view with deliberate slowness, the fires of fury smouldering in his eyes. "I don't take orders from anybody," he ground out. "Not the gods. Not the priests. Not you."

"Yeah. I wouldn't expect you to. But like it or not, you're heading back west with me. Now."

***
TBC
***

Back to index

Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Conversation

CHAPTER 2

Argument would have been futile, so he settled for locating the half bottle of whisky and poured himself a glass. Gojyo watched him out of the corner of one eye, while lighting another cigarette.

"I don't intend to move from this place until I get at least another night of solid sleep," Sanzo said bluntly.

"I thought you were used to sleeping in the open. And buggering out of places plenty quick." There was a click from the lighter. "But I could do with proper bed for a change too."

"Get your own room."

"Ah? Not that I would want to share with a short-fused, cranky monk like you. But, in case you were wondering, I'm taking this with me." He held up a familiar looking green scroll.

Sanzo glared. Just glared with all the fury that had been brewing in him since the start of the encounter, with all the fury and pent up frustration that months and months and years of evading pursuers had instilled in him. A practical move, yes, and one that he would have done if he'd been in Gojyo's place. But, quite apart from the fact that it stood in the way of any escape plans, it was a damn insult and a mockery of his ability to defend the sutra.

Gojyo must have sensed it -- no, the man would have been blind, deaf, and stuck in a nuclear shelter to not have sensed his anger -- for he hurried for the door with a cheery wave and a promise to 'right next door if you should need anything'. Sanzo said nothing in reply, but privately plotted revenge.

The door slammed. Sanzo let out a breath as a hiss of air through clenched teeth and glared at the woodwork for a while. Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice was trying to reassure him that, thus far, everything was proceeding according to plan. Or, at least, proceeding according to the norm. He'd maneuvered out of such situations before; this would be no exception.

That little voice, however, was rapidly being drowned out by the rising temper. He was sick and tired of it all, the running, the hiding, the bounty hunters. He would have to check whether the damn reward for his capture had increased again. At this rate, he would have the whole world on his heels.

Damn the man... did he really expect him to believe a tale as warped as that?

It took a while for the anger to die down, but he finally smothered the worst of it and began working on a plan.

***

Gojyo had made two critical mistakes -- the first was a failure to disable his quarry, the second was letting him out of his sight. One of the two had proved sufficient to allow Sanzo to slip from the net in the past; preventing him from doing so this time would require all of Gojyo's skill and ingenuity. However, the half-youkai was currently enjoying a drink, with his thoughts far away (and centering around a certain Goddess), sparing little or no thought to the priest in the next room.

***

The gun was not in his room. So. Gojyo had taken it as well. Sanzo cursed his luck and cursed the headache, and considered his situation.

He was badly in need of a day's rest -- he had been on the road for over a month, and spent no less than a quarter of it evading pursuit from the last band of humans, and another few days fending off youkai attacks. He had not escaped from the latter unscathed, and although the wounds were partially healed, they were not wholly recovered, and still troubled him on occasion. That and the brandy had had a hand in determining the outcome of his fight with Gojyo. Certainly, the man had the advantage of strength, but, when fully functional, Sanzo was still faster and generally more experienced. He also lacked the necessity of keeping his target alive.

However, musing about the hows and the whys of the fight was not about to help him in this situation. The sun was starting to set -- an early night, it seemed, was the only sensible recourse.

It was then that he realized that, yes, even Sanzos needed nourishment once in a while.

Gojyo's door slammed open the moment he stepped into the corridor. Sanzo strode off without a pause, until a hand grabbed his wrist. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He raised a slender brow. "Downstairs. I intend to have dinner, even if you don't."

"Ah," Gojyo replied, releasing his hand. "Actually, I do want dinner. So nice of you to ask."

"Go to hell, asshole," he replied, and continued walking.

It was somewhat expected that Gojyo followed him, settled into the same table and proceeded to order a large meal and an adequate supply of beer to last it. Sanzo patently ignored him.

"Are both of you travelling together?" the waitress asked as she served the drinks. "I thought that you arrived separately."

"Yeah, we are. Just met up here, that's all," Gojyo replied. "Say--"

"Are you a priest?" the waitress asked of Sanzo.

Silence greeted her.

"He's not in a good mood," Gojyo whispered conspiratorially. "Now I'm always in the mood--"

"No," she replied, sweetly but firmly. "So is he a priest or not?"

"Doesn't look it, but he is. Well, sort of."

Heads were starting to turn. Sanzo, the bandanna traded for a headband to mask his identity, silently cursed Gojyo and opened a can of beer.

"Did you hear? Genjo Sanzo was spotted at Xia An just a month or so back. They said that he was passing East, in this direction. Although why he would be passing East is a good question..." the waitress said, eyeing him.

Sanzo looked up then, skewering her with a glare from baleful purple eyes. "If you were insinuating anything, forget it. I am not a Sanzo Houshi."

Gojyo gave him an amused look. Sanzo kicked him under the table.

"Well, I don't want to pry, but they did say--"

"They always say that. I do believe that you have other customers to attend to."

"Oh.. I'm sorry." The girl finally took the hint and hurried off.

"Liar," Gojyo whispered.

Sanzo gave him a deadly look. "It would be wise to shut your trap."

"Why do you even wear a robe, then? It would be easier if you didn't dress like a priest, you know."

"Convenience. Clothing is hard to come by. Moreover, priests are still accorded freedom of passage through many regions in a time when many cities are turning back refugees."

"Right. You're telling me... I had a bitch of a time following you."

"You don't have to."

"Oh, I believe I do. Kanzeon told me in more words that if I screwed up the way you did, we're all dead, and I'm the first to go."

He didn't quite buy that -- if the gods were following their usual 'Thou-shalt-not-kill' mantra, that would be highly unlikely. There had to be some other reason for it; Sanzo strongly suspected that the ten thousand gold pieces that Chou'An temple was offering spoke loudly than any conjured deity. However, he was not one to speculate on the motives of his pursuers, and certainly, he did not care.

"Although I can see why you'd get sick of it after a while." Gojyo was saying. "Me, I wouldn't be in your place for the world."

"Shut up," he hissed, frustrated and in no mood to discuss his problems. And certainly, people were getting far too curious for their own good. If someone else--

--"Hey, are you--"

He went for his gun before he realized that it was gone. Normally, a loaded barrel shut people up as effectively as it raised questions about his identity, and he would hesitated to resort to one, but he was edgy and short-tempered and...

...and the gun wasn't there. Fine.

"No. I'm not." As if he would identify himself willingly, knowing the consequences.

"Yeah, and I'm the Jade Emperor. If you're not Genjo Sanzo, you look a hell lot--"

Suddenly, Gojyo there, leaning against Sanzo's chair and smiling in a not so friendly fashion. "Curiosity killed the cat, isn't that what they say?"

"Hey man, what do--"

"I mean, go away." There was something distinctly hostile in Gojyo's tone, something that suggested that this was not someone you wanted to mess around with.

"Doesn't hurt to ask, right?" the other muttered, all bravado and wounded ego, but headed back to his seat.

Sanzo had had enough of this. Pushing his chair back, disregarding the fact that Gojyo was in the way, he turned and headed back upstairs.

***

His door clicked open. Sanzo turned from the window, a frown on his face and a cigarette dangling between his lips.

"About just now..." Gojyo stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "I'm sorry."

"What the hell for?" Sanzo asked bitterly.

"Drawing attention to us, I guess. Hey, I brought up your dinner."

Sanzo's frown deepened, and he transferred the cigarette to one hand. "Just who are you?"

"I told you," Gojyo said. "Unless you're that bad at names."

"You know what I'm asking," Sanzo said, studying him intently. "Why are you doing this?"

"I was serious when I told you about divine intervention," Gojyo replied, without even the hint of a smirk. "I know it sounds corny, but that's how it is. You're that important, you know."

"I would have thought that the reward was rather more persuasive than any divine entity."

"Cash is always good. But if that was the only reason, I'd have given it all up as a bad job the last time; it's not been worth the effort. Trust me."

"Oh? Ten thousand gold pieces? Not worth the effort?"

"Fifteen thousand. Yes, and not worth the effort."

"So what are your reasons? And don't tell me that a goddess can scare you into doing something that you wouldn't do for fifteen thousand golds."

"This," Gojyo replied succintly, curling a strand of red hair around a finger. "I trust you know its significance."

Sanzo nodded minutely. He'd suspected that it was part of the reason.

"Half human. Half youkai. Now the youkai hate the humans, and the humans hate the youkai. Quite a tough place to be, in the middle. And, even if we can't fix things back to what they used to be, even if we can't ever stop the two races from hating each other in our lifetime, we could at least make a start."

Sanzo snorted slightly. "Who ever gave you that idea?"

"No one. Just common sense. Stop this nonsense. Give everyone long enough. They'll forget it... humans and youkai alike have short memories. A few generations down the road--"

"The 'stopping it' part is the question," Sanzo said, discarding the cigarette stub and turning back to the window. Outside, the sky was pitch dark and overcast. Not a star gleamed through. "I'm not a miracle worker. How do you expect me to single-handedly remedy the entire problem? They couldn't do it, given an army; the Battle of Tenjiku proved that. There is no way I can do it alone. This whole idea is a half-baked notion coined by those fools in Chou'An who just want to stop the masses from going crazy with fear."

"The sutra," Gojyo replied. "And tactics. They marched a whole army in plain sight to Tenjiku -- badly armored and badly equipped, over deserts and mountains. By the time they got there, they only had a quarter of an army. And they were harassed all the way by youkai. I wouldn't have placed a peanut on their chances. A team sent in stealth, on the otherhand--"

"Is equally doomed to failure."

"You'll never know if you never try, right? And besides, your current course of action is certain to fail."

Sanzo did not reply. Privately, he had marshalled sufficient arguments over the past years to debate the issue for hours.... but there was no point in doing so. The whole notion of a 'Savior' was so ingrained in human mindset that it was impossible to dislodge by words alone.

They were all doomed to failure. Nothing -- not his course of action, not their course of action, was about to change that.

"Sleep well," Gojyo said quietly. There was click as the door opened, and another click as it shut behind him. Sanzo sighed quietly, and continued to gaze out of the window. The heavy clouds promised rain that night.

***

Back to index

Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Meetings

It rained. It rained and his mood, already bad, became worse.

He hated the rain, hated the sound of it and the memories that it brought. The rain meant death and disaster to him, it drummed into his subconscious and brought nightmares with it, it drove him to distraction.

He finished the rest of the bottle at one shot, and started on a second.

Outside, it continued to rain through the night.

He awoke to the sound of hammering on his door and Gojyo cursing outside. He also awoke with a hangover. Ignoring the thumps and the yells of 'Open up, you bastard!', he staggered to the bathroom and heaved up what little he had eaten the night before.

The world continued to sway as he splashed water across his face and began filling up the bath. The thumps on the door, however, stopped after a while. There was the sound of retreating footsteps. Through the blinding hangover-induced headache, Sanzo smiled to himself.

By the time they forced the door open, he was standing by the window towelling his hair dry. He snapped the headband back into place before he turned.

Gojyo glowered at him. Sanzo raised an eyebrow and glanced out of the window, where it was still raining. "I trust we're not going anywhere in this weather."

"Damnit, man, didn't you hear the door?"

Sanzo shrugged.

Gojyo growled obscenities under his breath and stalked over, slamming the door behind him. Through the closing doorway, Sanzo caught sight of the innkeeper and several of his staff scurrying away.

"Look," Gojyo said to him. "I know you don't like this. I don't like it either. So let's not make it more unpleasant than it already is, alright?"

Sanzo gave him a level stare. "I was in the bath."

"Freaking hell you were in the bath for forty five minutes!"

"I was. Besides, what's the hurry?"

"We've lost a whole morning's worth of travel time, that's what's the hurry!"

Sanzo indicated the rain with a tilt of his head. "As I said. We're not about to go anywhere in this weather. Chou'An's not going to go under in a day, so why hurry?"

"Gods, I've known you for fewer than 24 hours and I hate you already."

"Excellent," Sanzo replied dryly. "If you don't mind, I'm heading back to bed."

"You just woke up."

"Does it matter?"

"You got drunk last night, didn't you?" Gojyo asked, giving him an accusatory glare. "This whole place smells of brandy."

"Whiskey. And what I do is of my own concern."

"Let me tell you, mister. If you get drunk on the road and--"

"I don't have to listen to this," Sanzo snapped, striding abruptly off. The door slammed quite violently behind him.

"Bloody monks and saving the world..." Gojyo groaned. He glanced at the second bottle of whiskey on the table, and it occurred to him that a drink would be a good idea. Locating a shot glass, he tipped some of the amber liquid into it. Damn, but this stuff was strong. He wouldn't be surprised if the monk was harboring a massive headache at the moment.

It took one drink before he suddenly recalled that letting Sanzo out of his sight was a decidedly bad idea. Cursing, and hoping that his momentary carelessness would not prove disasterous, he bolted for the door and slammed it open.

A scrape to his left was the only warning, and he caught a flash of gray before something extremely hard collided with the back of his head. Stars exploded across his vision, and the world went dark.

***

Sanzo fled across the corridor and into Gojyo's room, which the man had been careless enough to leave unlocked. A hurried search for his gun and his sutras proved futile, and he headed back to the corridor again to execute plan B.

When Gojyo exitted his room in a hurry, Sanzo slammed the shaft of the shaku jou across the back of the man's skull. The half-youkai went out like a light, and crumpled to the floor.

And, as fate would have it, some stupid serving wench happened to chance by the entire scene.

She screamed. Sanzo swore viciously as doors banged open. He rifled through Gojyo's pockets as fast as possible, locating his gun in the vest pocket and the sutra in another.

And the sight of the sutra set even more people off. For an entirely different reason.

Shit. He really did not want to handle a chase with a hangover. He really did want to hide somewhere dark and quiet...

Instead, he charged back into his room, grabbed his knapsack, and headed for the window.

He'd loosened the bars the first night he'd stepped into the room, and they came apart in a matter of seconds. Seconds were still too slow for him, however, as people came crowding into the room after him, the door with its broken lock providing no obstacle whatsoever.

The sight of a loaded gun, however, stopped them dead in their tracks.

Until the man from the night before forced his way to the front of the crowd. "Not a Sanzo, huh?"

The words seemed to break the spell, and suddenly, the crowd was surging forward, all willing to risk their life for whatever reason their addled brains had conceived.

Sanzo graced the man with a death glare of his very own, before heading straight out of the window.

It was one floor to the ground. He misjudged the distance, and slammed his gun hand against a ledge on the way down, hard enough to crack bone. Landing hard and dropping his revolver, he hurriedly retrieved it with his right hand, swearing through the pain.

The doors of the inn burst open as he staggered to his feet, still swaying from the after effects of all the alcohol the night before. He was truly starting to regret that second bottle now...

"Stop right there!" "Stop!"

Snarling, he fired one shot into the wall, a shot that silenced a great majority. Taking advantage of their momentary surprise, he turned and fled.

He could hear alarms going off all around the city, the shouts of the mob closing in on all sides. He fired a warning shot above the crowd, which stopped them long enough for him to vanish down another street.

Doors slammed open as he passed, curious onlookers appeared at the windows, and began talking hurriedly amongst themselves. By all the gods, he hated all of them at that point. Hellfires and damnation... just how had it gotten this bad?

He skidded on puddles as he rounded a corner, and came up against a deadend. Without pause, he pocketed the gun and launched himself at the wall.

His weight came down on the fractured wrist and he collapsed into a painful heap at the bottom.

"Shit..." Cursing his ill fortune, he fumbled for the gun and pulled himself to his feet, studying the wall again. It was quite a bit higher than his head, and there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to scale it one handed.

He was going to have to fight his way out.

He slipped two more bullets into the magazine, frantically scanning for escape routes. None availed themselves to him, except for---

--the door that he was looking at slipped open. Instinctively his gunsights were trained on it, and he was a hair's breadth away from pulling the trigger when the shadowed figure that emerged beckoned him in.

"Like hell I'm going to follow you," he grated.

"You don't have a choice. There are too many of them to fight off, with a small handgun like yours. If necessary, they can simply besiege you."

"How--"

"Are you coming or not?"

He really didn't have a choice. At any rate, facing one person was better than facing a mob. Keeping his gun on the figure, he slipped through the door.

He found himself in a darkened room, bare of any furniture. The figure headed for the other door. "This way."

"Do you know who I am?" Sanzo asked.

"I do, Sanzo-sama. Neither do I care," he inclined his head. "The gates have been locked and the guards are on full alert. It would be best for you to go to ground for a few days until things die down. Then you can slip out quietly."

Cautiously, Sanzo stepped over.

"The cellar would be the best idea--" the figure stopped short as he came face to face with barrel of Sanzo's gun.

"An explanation would be the best idea," Sanzo said softly.

"Not here. This way."

Swearing, chaffing at his own perceived lack of choice in the matter, he followed.

***

"So. You're a school teacher," Sanzo said disbelievingly, seated in the cellar as the search thundered through the city overhead. His gun, laid on the table in plain sight was a clear warning, even as he struggled to splint his wrist one handed.

"Let help you with that," the other offered. Sanzo shot him a glare, unwilling to accept additional assistance. Common sense, however, eventually won out over his mental protests, and grudgingly, he acceded to the offer.

"I teach at the local elementary school," his mysterious benefactor continued, fingers deftly wrapping bandages around the splint. "Bear with me, this might hurt a little."

No outward flicker of pain passed over Sanzo's features, except for the slight intake of breath. "Are you living alone?"

"I'm living with my wife, actually. And I guess you'd want to know why we're--"

"Your misplaced assistance is liable to cost you dearly, if discovered," Sanzo said flatly, "On the otherhand, if you betray me, I can assure you that you're the first to go."

"You don't mince your words, Sanzo-sama. It's quite simple... really. I don't believe in forcing anyone to do anything. Even if it's saving the world."

"You're helping me out of the goodness of your heart," Sanzo allowed a note of skepticism and disbelief to creep into his tone. "Congratulations. You're only the second most stupid person I've met today."

Green eyes regarded him, passively absorbing the insult. "No. I spent my youth conforming to expectations. Perhaps, in assisting you, I'm correcting some things that went wrong in the past." He tied the bandage in place and gently released Sanzo's hand. "One may not approve of your actions... however, one can hardly force to embark on a journey you do not want to undertake."

That caught him offguard. Perhaps it was the injury, which, with the shock wearing off, was starting to hurt. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the adrenaline, both of which were still burning through his veins. Whatever it was, it made him stop, replay the conversation in his mind, and frown slightly.

"Is it that hard to believe?" the stranger asked, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He pushed the pair of metal-framed glasses further up his nose, a reflex action that belied no nervousness... a warning sign that would have alerted Sanzo immediately to a trap.

"From past experience, yes," Sanzo replied. "In a world on the brink of madness, such idealism is... dangerous at best. Suicidal at worst."

"Perhaps. Yet if we abandon our ideals, what purpose is there left in life?" a new voice said.

Sanzo glanced sharply across, the fingers of his good hand instinctively curling around the trigger of his revolver. A lady stood in the doorway, at once so similar in appearance to the man who sat just across him that Sanzo experienced a brief sense of disorientation.

"My wife, Kanan," the man affirmed, as Kanan stepped daintily into the room and settled in the remaining chair.

They looked far too alike for comfort. Suspicions quietly made their presence known in the back of his mind, but he chose to ignore them. Whatever transpired between this couple was irrelevant to him.

Kanan smiled, a gentle replica of her husband, and regarded him with eyes the same shade of emerald green. "It's an honor to meet you, Sanzo-sama."

"Under such dire circumstances, I think not," Sanzo replied wearily. The effects of the adrenaline were slowly dissipating, and in the aftermath of the chase and the new injury, he was starting to feel his previous hurts more keenly. Suddenly exhausted, both in body and soul, he felt a brief pang of longing for a quieter, happier place with no obligations and duties to be met and no pursuers to evade. Unconsciously, half of his mind drifted back to a temple and a time far away, long before the days of being a Sanzo and all the subsequent grief that had burdened that title.

"Sanzo-sama, please trust us," one of the pair in front of him said, and his mind, half-wandering in the past, could not distinguish who had said it. And his heart, aching for that very thing, answered before his head could, in a slight nod and the brief shuttering of amethyst eyes. In a move swiftened by long practice, he stowed the gun away in a sleeve pocket and leaned back in his chair.

Glancing up, he directed his gaze towards the man. "And might I know the name of my benefactor?"

The smile touched that face again, such a mild, happy smile of someone perfectly at peace. "Gonou. Cho Gonou."

Cho Gonou. The name sent an inexplicable chill through him -- the effect of a karmic bond snapping into place across five hundred years of separation and a destiny long avoided, although Sanzo could not have known that. But the sound of the words engraved themselves deeply into his memory, and remained there, long after both had parted ways.

And in the Heavens, Kanzeon Bosatsu nodded in approval of the events unfolding below her, a sequence postponed for far too long.

"It will be difficult this time," she murmured to herself, contemplating the future and the invisible threads of Fate drawing inexorably closer. "But you always did have a mind of your own.. nephew."

***
TBC
***

A/N :
That's it on the drawing board for a little while. Real life beckons, and alas, I can't ignore this time.

Back to index

Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Interlude

CHAPTER 4 - Interlude

The search raged through the city .. not for a day, not for three, but for a week. However, it proved futile in the end.

Gojyo sat at the bar, chain smoking and listening with half an ear to the conversation at the next table, yet another account of another search party's failed attempts to locate the priest.

He sighed, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that twisted upwards to disappear between the rafters. He'd screwed up, big time. Deep down, he'd hoped that Sanzo would be reasonable, that he'd, given a little persuasion, would follow him meekly back to Chou'An.

Wistful thinking indeed.

He was rather at a loss as to what to do, now that his quarry had seemingly vanished. There had always been hints before... city guards and the odd refugee tended to remember gold haired priests travelling east. It had been, more or less, a straight hop from his village to this city, and he'd always had his target in front of him. At this point, it was a tough choice -- to go on, and run the risk that Sanzo was still here... or to stay, and fall too far behind the priest to catch up, if he had left.

Trading the cigarette stub for a drink, he wondered for the umpteenth time why he continued on this half-baked mission. Why he'd started was never in question ... it had been hard to turn down the offer of divine assistance in escaping the pack of hate-crazed humans in return for what, at that time, sounded like a fairly simple mission: Get teleported into the vicinty of a Sanzo who was just a few towns away, and bring him back to Chou'An.

He'd never anticipated the youkai attacks, the distance, the sheer difficulty in keeping up with a man who seemed to dash across the miles with inhuman speed and endurance. But he'd done it because, for the first time in far too long, he had a purpose to cling to. Life before this had been gambling and women and women and gambling, the same old story day after day. Simple survival was so easy that it disgusted him, and, deep down, he'd been waiting for change.

"Change," he chuckled to himself. Oh, he'd gotten change, and plenty of it.

The conversation at the next table caught his attention again, and he paused to listen.

"...if he's outside the city, he's going to have a problem. The youkai have been attacking again."

"At the rate they're going, they're going to besiege us."

"Damn straight they are. And a lot of people on the road in and out of here have gone missing, I heard."

"It'll be a pity if he goes down to the likes of them."

"Pity? A pity for us, you mean. We're all doomed and here he is running away from it all..."

"Perhaps you would see it differently, if you were in his shoes," a new voice cut in, its low and pleasant tones a stark contrast to the bitterness in the previous speaker's voice.

Gojyo glanced across. The newcomer had paused by the table, smiling benignly. Light shimmering off the metal frames of his glasses, and revealed his hair to be a deep brown.

"What do you know about it?" the other growled, "Damn school teachers... philosophy doesn't work in the real world, get it?" He pointedly returned to his drink.

Seemingly unfazed, the brunette glanced up and Gojyo caught sight of his eyes for the first time.

They were green. A deep, verdant green.

Gojyo's breath caught in his throat. It was him. This was the man who was destined to be the one who would prove that---

He clamped down on that train of thought. Kanzeon Bosatsu had made him swear not to interfere, however tempting it might be...

But it sucked, knowing that disaster was about to befall this stranger who would one day be his companion... knowing that disaster would befall this very city... and to stand aside and not raise a finger.

"Another drink?" the bartender offered.

"Ah. Another drink. Make it a strong one."

***

Under the cover of nightfall, a solitary, cloaked figure drifted from shadow to shadow, heading slowly but surely towards the city gates.

At the gates, two guards fell without a sound and a shape stepped over their unconscious forms to glide, unchallenged, into the night beyond.

***

"Well, he's gone," Gonou noted.

"Yes. His heart is set on going East," Kanan replied. She glanced up. "You don't look surprised."

"I'm not. Like him, I don't believe that one person can save the world," Gonou replied.

"But one could try..."

"I don't know. It is a difficult choice, and one that I'm grateful that doesn't rest our shoulders. But.. whichever path he chooses, I wish him luck.. his road is not an easy one."

***

Back to index

Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Storm Warnings

CHAPTER 5 -- Storm Warnings

The town of Shantian was a small one, even by normal standards. It was scarcely more than a village, far off the main road. Few travellers passed by, even in these desperate times, and the inn that stood on the edge of town served as a bar more often than not.

So the innkeeper was honestly surprised when, one stormy night that saw the even locals staying at home, a guest showed up on the doorstep.

He looked like he'd been blown in by the storm. Soaked by the rain from head to toe, water ran in rivulets down his face and accumulated in puddles on the floor. The wind chased the hem of his dark cloak, whipped little strands of hair into his face.

"What a night. You're lucky you got here when you did -- there isn't another settlement for miles about," the innkeep said, bustling his guest in and shutting the door against the howling gale outside. "Get in front of the fire and dry off... do you want a drink?"

Amethyst eyes blinked at him in confusion for a moment. His visitor looked utterly exhausted.

"No... yes... yes. Sake," he replied, shivering slightly with fatigue or cold.

"Right away," the innkeep bustled off.

When he returned, his guest had shed the cloak to reveal a nondescript shirt and pants. In the light of the hearth, his hair was a rich shade of gold.

"Sake. Warm, since you don't look like you'd appreciate a cold one right now."

The proferred bottle and cup were accepted silently and exchanged for a handful of coin.

"Staying for the night?"

A nod, and another handful of coins slid across the table.

"A meal? Something to go with your wine?"

The other sighed and shook his head. Pouring himself a glass, he tilted his head back and swallowed it at one go, apparently oblivious to the heat of the liquid. Then he was pouring himself another cup.

"I think you should go slow--" the innkeep was cut off in midsentence by a narrowed glare.

"Are there any mountains around here?" the visitor returned.

"Mountains? Funny that you should ask. There's one, actually, a solitary affair, which is unusual. It's just North of here, about a day's trek away."

He thought he heard a muttered expletive in reply, and the man swallowed another cup of wine.

"Another bottle."

The innkeep shook his head, but departed for the store nevertheless. He'd seen this before, and more often of late -- his guest was, for whatever reason, trying to drink himself under the table. Normally, he might have tried to dissuade him -- drunken guests sometimes made for repair bills -- but there was something... something that made words die in his throat and fall away, unspoken. It was the sense of growing desperation, a dangerous anxiety that threatened to break loose and destroy everything in its path, then turn on itself. It was the look on his face when he'd first stepped in, the look of a man fast reaching the end of his tether.

Are you running from something? the innkeeper wondered. Or are you running to someplace?

He carried several bottles of sake back to the dining room. It looked as if his guest would need them all.

***

He'd been hearing the voice fo ra while, a voice that called to him in his mind and in his dreams. It was a child's voice, high and plaintive, that said Come back find me help me. He'd learnt to ignore it after a while; it was that or go insane.

It had gone away after a while, only to re-emerge of late. The further East he travelled, the stronger it grew, beckoning him away from his road and Up, up North, to the cold mountain where nothing grows...

He'd held out as long as he could, until the voice invaded his dreams with a persistence that made him want to clutch his head and scream.

Someday, you might hear a voice too, his teacher had told him, but he'd never expected it to be like this. In recent days, it had grown to the point of distraction. Two days back, it had nearly cost him his life in a youkai attack, trying to catch his attention in the middle of a fight.

It grew muted only after six bottles of sake, where the world spun from the effects of alcohol and the fatigue that seemed to knaw at his very bones. He needed sleep, quiet, undisturbed sleep, away from voices.

Find me...

It was definitely softer now, lost in alcohol-induced fuzziness in his head. But it was still there.

Shut up... he told it, ordered it, practically begged it.

North, it beckoned. Up north...

It seemed that he slept, and he saw an oddly shaped mountain rising out of the wilderness. There were forests about it, but on the gray slopes themselves nothing grew, not even grass.

North north north the voice chanted, and he swore at it. He had abandoned the road, following the dirt path that led to Shantian, in some sort of concession to the voice. It was off his route, it was wasting his time and the Minus Wave was spreading while he dallied here...

But help me find me help me, the voice cried, dogging his days and nights. There was a cave on the mountain, a cold, barren place where one couldn't see the sun, just a sliver of sky. And there were no plants, no animals, just cold, unyielding rock rock rock...

Shut up! he cried, desperate.

North! the voice insisted. Years, five hundred years... find the mountain, the barren mountain that stands alone.... not too far away now...

Shut up, he swore at it. I need sleep. I'm dying on my feet here and I can't do anything if you don't shut up...

It seemed to recede then, or it could have been his imagination. Reality and dream met and merged and splintered into two again. He saw wooden stairs room bed, and superimposed over that mountain forest stone and they blended and seperated in confusion.

Find me... the voice called softly, the plea of a lost child. Five hundred years...

Five hundred years of what? he wanted to ask, but in the silence both mountain and room were fading, fading into the darkness of dreamless sleep.

Five hundred years... the voice echoed mournfully, fading away.

***

Somewhere, a child born of stone lay within a prison of stone and dreamnt of the sun.

***

"...So they've been closing in lately, and they say that the Minus Wave is reaching us..."

"What caused this Minus Wave anyway?"

"They said that someone in the West combined the power of chemistry and youryoku ... or sourcery ... which releashed a massive surge of magical energy that's been sweeping across the land..."

"And this is what's causing the youkai to go crazy?"

"Well, crazy's not quite the word for it. They're frighteningly organized. We've never seen them this organized and this united."

"United? But they're never united..."

"Now they are. Several hundred of them have gathered under the banner of the Centipede King, and he's been turning on humans, big time. A number of towns already pay tribute to him."

"He'll never be able to breach our city."

"So they say, but you know... the youkai are a lot more powerful than we are..."

Gojyo poked at his warm beer and uninspiring dinner. The city had been talking of nothing else for a while, since the excitement about Genjo Sanzo had died down and the youkai attacks had begun. The city had barricaded itself in, and, apart from a few that had fled at the onset, the rest were more or less stuck within its walls now. Taking the road out was analogous to suicide.

"You know, they say we're next," the younger of the two men at the next table said, his tone worried.

"They've been saying that for a week already. Nothing's happened, besides the little raids on the outskirts. Besides, those stupid peasants who sneaked out of the walls were asking for trouble."

"Yes, but, sooner or later they'll come for us. And it's not just the Centipede King. It's that blasted Crow clan that's reported allied itself with the Centipede."

"What, them too?"

"That's the latest update from the scouts."

"That adds another couple of hundred against us. And here we were hoping that the Crows would stay neutral in this fight."

"Unlike the Centipede bastards who were viciously anti-human even before this farce started."

"Yeah..."

Gojyo shoved away the remains of dinner, stood, stretched, and ambled away. He'd heard enough.

Viciously anti-human, eh? And you humans weren't viciously anti-youkai? he thought, with no little bitterness. It was surprising that no one had caught on to his youkai heritage yet, or perhaps everyone was too tied up with the prospect of an assault by the Centipede clan. Nonetheless, he'd been watching his step, and his back every step of the way.

"But whatever. This mission is officially stuck up the creek," he said loudly to no one in particular. I knew I should have left earlier. But no, Mister Too Smart For His Own Good Sha Gojyo hung around to see whether Mister Genjo Sanzo would appear... until they shut the gates and barricaded everyone in.

Which meant that the city was slowly starving to death, now that no supplies of grain and vegetables came up the road from the surrounding farms. Not that there were a lot of surrounding farms at the moment. Besides, no one really cared about the long term at the moment.

And there aren't any more refugees, he noted. A sobering thought, and a silent testimony to deadliness of the road West. Which means that even if I find Mister Smartass, knock him over the head and sling him over one shoulder, I'll still have a fine time trying to drag him back to Chou'An. One sure as hell hopes that the gun isn't all for show.

He kicked a stone across the path in annoyance. What the hell do I do now? Divine intervention would be cool, but even that seems to be in short supply today...

His train of thought was derailed as he banged unceremoniously into someone coming around the corner. He stumbled and barely saved himself from a fall by grabbing hold of a window sill. The other party was not so lucky -- he went sprawling backwards.

"Hey, sorry," Gojyo called, and reached down to offer him a hand up. "Didn't see where I was going."

"Ah.. it's alright," came the sunny response. The stranger paused to realign his spectacles. "I should have paid more attention as well..."

Green eyes met red ones.

Oh damn. It's him again... Gojyo thought, barely suppressing a wince.

I hate Goddesses who talk in riddles, Gojyo swore.

"Is something wrong?" the other man had found his feet and was dusting off his clothes.

"I should be asking you that," Gojyo shot back. "You okay?"

"Perfectly fine." He smiled, a bright sunny smile, and Gojyo felt a pang of guilt. I should tell him to run. To run now, far far away, before he loses one and everything...

But you cannot change the course of destiny, Kanzeon had told him gravely. No matter how tempting it will be to meddle... for Fate will always find its way, and some ways are more destructive than others...

More destructive than the slaughter of a thousand youkai? Gojyo thought with a shudder.

"Well then, sorry about that," he smiled back, shrugged, and let his feet carry him away. Behind, he was certain that a pair of green eyes followed his movements.

***

Gonou regarded the man he had just run into with a certain amount of curiosity. He recalled, just on the very edges of memory, something about people with red eyes and red hair, but he couldn't remember the specifics. Making a mental note to check it up again, he continued on his way.

The tension around him was palpable. He'd been in school when the classes had been abruptly suspended and the children told to go home with all speed and not to linger. Later, the principal had summoned the teachers.

"We're under attack?" his colleague had asked in disbelief, her brown eyes wide and frightened.

"But it's far too soon!" someone else protested. "They said that the youkai were at least--"

"--We are not under attack, but a youkai army is headed towards us. It is not common news at the moment," the principal said gravely. "I advise all staff to return home and to take necessary precautions."

He'd stayed, or rather, he'd accompanied some children home, avoiding their questions. It's a surprise holiday, he'd told them with a smile. He didn't enjoy lying to them, but there wasn't much point in telling them the truth either...

...they'd find out soon enough. They'd find out more than they wanted.

By the time he'd set off for home himself, the sun was already setting. By now, the talk of the youkai army had run rife through the city, and the streets were deserted. The red-haired man was the only one he'd seen around and about, apparently oblivious to the situation.

Gonou quickened his footsteps.

"It's a beautiful evening," he mused. "A red sunset for an evening of bloodshed..." he smiled grimly. "Yet it is very pretty."

A voice disturbed his reverie. "Hey! Gonou!"

He looked up, squinting against the sun. Someone stood on the corner, waving to him. He waved back. It was a former student of his, now in the army.

"Aren't you on alert?" he inquired.

"Didn't you hear? Apparently they got the Crows to leave us alone. I don't exactly approve, but the Crows marched an army three hundred strong to the gates and... well, with the Centipedes behind them, it does get a little scary."

"We parleyed?" Gonou asked.

"Yeah. I mean, for all that we call ourselves a city, we're not that much of one. Just one stone wall isn't going to stop these guys any -- they can fly."

"What happened exactly?"

"No one really knows. The Crows sent a herald, and he talked to the commanders at length this afternoon. And it seems they settled on something, because the Crows pulled back."

"They pulled back?"

"They were here for something. Apparently, they got it, they're going away, and... Up There is still keeping really quiet, so all we've heard is that we've reached a deal and we're not going to be overrun by tomorrow morning. It's a relief, actually. The odds didn't look good at all."

"A compromise?" Gonou asked.

"Like I said, I don't know. We're still on alert, though. I'm just ferrying messages from the command post across the city. I'll tell you when I know more."

"Thank you," he replied, and the former student nodded and trotted off.

"A compromise?" he muttered again, under his breath. The barest whisper of disconcertion grew in the back of his mind. Turning down the street, he headed for home as fast as his feet could carry him.

***
TBC
***

Back to index