Drawn to the Light

By Eline (Kanzeon on ff.net)

Spoilers: A lot of them. At least until the first twenty or so episodes of the anime and most of the manga.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the fanfic idea.

Warnings: Serious possibility of shounen ai, bad language and Men Behaving Badly. Beware of the shifting PoVs.

Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking cigarettes may cause lung cancer.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lately, Sanzo had found that his aversion of rain was returning with a vengeance. Ever since this mission had begun, nothing had been simple anymore.

What had begun as a straightforward search and destroy mission from the Three Aspects had turned into the journey from Hell. It was not the first time he wondered *why* the gods needed a human messenger when they could chuck their own thunderbolts. The Talking Heads, as he privately referred to them, could take the mission and shove it up their presumably present but invisible collective arses. But the-world-as-they-knew-it hung in the balance, and so some celestial half-wit had probably suggested, "Send out the mortal errand boy to deal with it, chop chop--oh and bring along these three youkai (two and a half actually) for some obscure reason".

Turning over restlessly, Sanzo glared at the cracked and peeling ceiling. At that moment, he itched for a cigarette, but the last few sticks of his Marlboros were definitely the worst for the drenching they had experienced.

He resisted punching something--anything--to relieve the tension. For one, it would accomplish nothing and he was in no mood to deal with Hakkai's fussing if he bloodied his knuckles.

"Fuck . . . They always said abstinence was good for the soul . . ." That had been the way of the monks in the monastery. Abstinence to raise spiritual power and sustain the faith.

But that hadn't helped them in the end, had it? He had felt a pang of regret when Shuuei had told him about the youkai who had came back to raid the temple for the Maten sutra he had inherited. He had never really been close to anyone else in the monastery, but it had been his home until he had cut his ties with it. And the thought of any others else dying because of him . . .

He wondered sometimes if his master would approve . . . of what he had become. A pathetic creature who shunned attachments but could never truly pull away from the past.

Too many ghosts seemed to return on rainy nights for his comfort. There was nothing to bring temporary relief . . . nothing to grant temporary forgetfulness.

There were tales of a river flowing somewhere . . . A river filled with the Waters of Forgetfulness. If he had been offered a sip of that river that night, he would have taken it and to hell with the consequences . . .

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

It was dark here.

But where was *here*?

Was it the darkness of that seemingly never-ending night when his master had died in front of his eyes?

Or was it the darkness of those nights that had followed as he tried to exorcise his personal demons along with the youkai he despatched with something akin to joy?

There was someone else here.

Who are you?

*What* are you?

* * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * *

It was still raining in the morning. Drizzling, actually. The cold, wet and dismal kind that kept the slush on the ground at the right consistency for an unwary foot to slip on.

Hakkai braved the unsheltered distance between the privy and the backdoor of the hostel with an old hemp sack over his head. Nodding at the cook of the establishment--and receiving a grunt in reply--he made his way through the kitchen and out to the common room.

It was an hour after dawn, but no other guests were stirring. Granted, it did not look like it was actually *morning* or anything close to a day when any sane traveller would venture forth . . .

Hakkai shook his head and went to check on Hakuryuu. They would be going nowhere in this weather without Jipu. And Jipu/Hakuryuu was *not* going to go out in this weather with a cold or whatever it was that magical dragons/jeeps came down with if he had any say in that matter.

"Piuuu . . ." Hakuryu had popped his head up when Hakkai had came near the fireplace.

"Good morning. Are you better now?" Hakkai liked talking to Hakuryuu at this time. He was the only one capable of a coherent and relatively good-natured conversation in the mornings. The conversations *were* a little one-sided, but Hakkai was fairly sure he could tell one "piuu" from another "piuuu" by now.

"Piuuu . . ."

"Hungry?"

"Piuu!"

"Right! I will go arrange some breakfast for us," Hakkai said. "All of us." He glanced over to where Gojyo was slumped face-down at the table, snoring gently. Neither of them had slept that night, only dozing off an hour or two before dawn.

He had found Gojyo in the common room last night, bemoaning the lack of functional cigarettes and how some insects were probably seeing more action than he was. Hakkai being Hakkai had just smiled and nodded along. Privately, he wondered if nicotine withdrawal was detrimental to mental health. The conversation they had after that . . . had been *interesting* to say the least.

Then again, this journey had been "interesting" as well. Now Hakkai believed that getting a good breakfast between oneself and the interesting challenges of the day could make a real difference. For one, it might be the last meal of their lives, but that was being pessimistic. Or realistic if one was cynical. He left the cynicism to Sanzo and trusted in his own cooking.

Not that he was saying anything about the cooking at this establishment, but . . .

An hour later, Gojyo stumbled into the kitchen. "Oi . . . Hakkai . . . Where's the damned bathroom?"

"It's out back," Hakkai said from where he had commandeered the stove. "But it's raining, so be careful of the mud."
"Gah! Bloody rain . . ." Gojyo muttered as he slipped out the backdoor. Hakkai noticed that he was not going in the right direction of the privy and would have called out to tell Gojyo so, but a sudden thought came to him about the likelihood of the kappa going any further than he had to for a piss.

"Ah." After all, the backyard of the inn had not been all that sanitary to begin with. And the mud was not going to get any cleaner . . .

"I smell *food* . . ." Yawning but still moving at considerable speed, Goku appeared in the doorway. "*Good* food . . . I knew it! Hakkai! You're cooking!"

"Good morning! How do you like your eggs?"

"Err . . ." Goku appeared to be giving this simple question some thought. "Hakkai, how many ways are there to cook eggs and can I have them all?"

"Ah, I will try my best," Hakkai said. Goku had the constitution and appetite of a teenager and it never failed to amaze people how much food he could pack away. It was a *good* thing he had commandeered the kitchen then . . .

"Ne, Hakkai, I had a really weird dream last night . . . "

Gojyo chose this moment to join the conversation from the backdoor. "Really? Was it a *hentai* dream?" The red-haired man looked marginally more awake and lucid. Lucid enough to start the day's first quarrel with Goku at any rate. "You know, Goku, the type one where you normally wake up with a st--"

"Ewww! You're disgusting!" Goku yelled. "It wasn't like that at all! It was all dark and there was this girl--"

"Ooooh, that's the kind of dream I like!" Gojyo held Goku off with one hand as the monkey tried to punch him. "You're a normal boy after all--"

"Pervert--"

"Shut the fuck up!"

A few lumps of plaster rained down on the frozen tableau from the bullet-hole in the ceiling, caused by the shot Sanzo had used to emphasise his point. The monk had never been a morning person, but this was a little extreme.

"Erm . . . It's a little early in the morning for bullets, ne?" Hakkai ventured. The landlord was *not* going to be happy with the new hole in the already cracked and crumbling ceiling.

"Just shut up! And get me some coffee!" Sanzo barked and flopped down ungracefully on the nearest empty chair.

Goku and Gojyo, still frozen where they stood, exchanged a look. Even Hakkai was a little surprised. Sanzo was not usually that snappy . . .

"Okay . . . just a moment. Black as usual?"

His only reply was a grunt.

"What crawled up his butt and died there?" Gojyo muttered as Hakkai passed him a mug.

Hakkai shrugged as he turned to dish out the eggs. "He's probably still irritated at losing so much travelling time . . ."

But it was Goku who dared to venture a question. "Sanzo? Er, Sanzo are you okay?" he asked meekly. "I could go get your paper if you want to read it . . ."

And then Hakkai realised that Sanzo was not reading the morning paper but clutching at his head. What had originally looked like his early morning case of grumpiness was actually a pained expression.

"How much did he drink last night?" Hakkai asked Gojyo quietly.

"Eh? But we're out of booze . . . No more beer, whiskey or scotch--and there's none worth drinking in this dinky town," Gojyo replied, puzzled. "Oi Sanzo, have you been holding out on us?"

If looks could kill, Gojyo would have been a greasy smear on the floor by now.

"I. Am. Not. Having. A. Hangover. Stupid. Kappa." Sanzo was going for his gun again as glaring could not accomplish what his revolver could. Gojyo very wisely decided to duck.

But Sanzo staggered before he could pull the trigger again. "Shit!" he swore.

"What's wrong?" Abandoning breakfast, Hakkai came over the table, still wary of Sanzo's trigger-happy mood.

"My head hurts . . ."

"Headache? Do you want me to try and cure it?"

"Wow, you can do that too, Hakkai?" Goku asked.

In all honesty, Hakkai had never tried curing a headache before. Wounds, scrapes, burns, lethal life-threatening wounds yes--headaches, no. But giving it a try was a better option than to have Sanzo wandering around armed and in pain.

"Sit down." And he did pick the gun out of Sanzo's grip before he started to draw on his power and laid a hand on Sanzo's brow.

"It's . . . *not* working," Sanzo said after a few moments.

"Give it a little while more," Hakkai requested. "I think it's a migraine. Does it hurt on the right or left side of your head?"

"I can't tell! It just hurts!"

"So this isn't working . . . I guess this kind of problem is too subtle. We may need medication . . ."

"*Sedation* is more like it," Gojyo said, emerging cautiously when the threat of swift and permanent ventilation appeared to be over. "But where can we get any medicine in a place like this?"

"There's bound to be some sort of doctor out here . . ." Hakkai said. This area was rural, with scattered agricultural communities. There would usually be some local herbalist to consult. "Someone has to see to sick people. We should ask the landlord."

"I'll go," Gojyo volunteered. "He's still out of sorts--I don't want to be around when he tries taking pot-shots at anyone again."

It was a testament to just how much Sanzo's head hurt when he did not even attempt a retort.

"Hurry," Hakkai whispered. "And see if you can get something for Hakuryuu's cold!"

"All right!"

* * * * * * * * * *

End Part 2