--Chapter 1:Socium miserum tenere cosolatio in miseria est --
At first, all he can see is red. Thick, cloying, and so very red. And then, the smell, oh God the smell of it. It is the smell of copper mixed with the sour scent of death, with just enough hint of rot starting to set in. He shakes his head, unable to fathom that the grisly vision before him is real. He is not seeing the strongest person he knows lying in a sea of his own blood, looking like a broken doll that a child had discarded. There is no twisted expression of pain on an otherwise serene face, marring once wise and perfect features.
His hands move of their own accord, brushing lightly over blood-dampened robes gently, as though a mere touch will cause the body to crumble into ash. The sudden feel of foreign blood against his hands makes him sick, biting back bile that is rising in his throat. His eyes blur with tears, the footfalls against stone floors echoing through his ears as they approach. He knows what they will think, what they will say when this is all over with. But, at the moment, all he can do is sit in stunned silence. When they do reach him, at their questioning looks sprinkled with the right amount of accusation and disbelief, only a single sentence falls from his lips.
“I couldn’t save him.”
-----
“Sanzo? Sanzo?” a quiet voice echoed, sounding far away even as it jolted the other from his thoughts. Caught daydreaming with his guard down, formerly dazed blue-violet eyes narrowed into a glare, haloed by a crown of golden hair and accentuating skin the color of fresh milk. “I hate to disturb you, but the Cardinal wishes to see you.”
The blond sighed in agitation, stirring up a cloud of dust as he slammed the ancient book shut. “What does he want now?” he asked dismissively as he slid the volume back in between the others before turning to the other man.
Enigmatic emerald eyes smiled back at him from behind narrow-rimmed glasses, never giving away that the left one wasn’t even real. The eyes danced with humor and amusement, even as the equally pale face remained set in a serious line. “Who knows? I don’t question anymore,” the man answered tiredly, a graceful hand sweeping brunet bangs out of his line of vision. “He only feels it necessary to talk to me when he’s looking for you.”
Even Sanzo snorted at such a seemingly bland statement. “Well, you are my most trusted assistant, Hakkai. Where would I be without you?” His tone was humorless, though the faintest quirk of a smile played on the edge of his mouth.
“Where indeed?” Hakkai replied, mirroring the expression perfectly on his own face. They fell silent after that, each man seemingly lost in their own thoughts as they made their way through the courtyard. Their footfalls brought them to the ancient building looming in front of them, the sound of voices raised in song reverberating from the stone walls of the massive church. Spindly vines of ivy crawled up the sides of the structure, clipped and shaped into a manageable chaos around the brightly colored stained glass windows depicting various stories from the Bible.
As they passed through the oaken archway, Sanzo quelled the slight feeling of guilt that clenched at his gut that he always got when walking into the church. The sight of the looming cross in the worship hall drove that home, the sad face of Jesus a reminder of the sins he had committed, even in the name of the Church itself. He was hardly a devout practitioner of the Catholic faith, since the only reason he had become a priest was to honor the memory of the only person that had meant anything to him. Other than that, the blond found that he had no use for God and his so-called saving grace, the One who had betrayed him when he needed Him the most.
Of course, Hakkai wasn’t much of a holy man either; with a past as torrid and bloody as his, the man was easily marked as the very sort of sinner they condemned to Hell and damnation. The green-eyed man simply used religion as a façade to hide his stained soul behind crisp robes and pristine ideals. How either of them managed to get ordained was a complete mystery.
They were greeted less than warmly by the gaggle of nuns that frequented the main hall, the two of them equally ignoring the women as they made their way past the pews and the nuns cleaning them. The noonday mass was about to be taking place, and both of them were eager to not be anywhere in the vicinity for that. Both Hakkai and Sanzo were used to this sort of behavior from the underlings that scurried about the church, since they were only the doers of the Church’s dirty work anyway.
“They never change. No amount of schooling or religious teachings can change the fact that they are still spoiled little aristocratic girls with nothing but fluff between their ears,” the brunet commented lightly, earning himself a smirk from his companion. While Sanzo was very forward with his dislike for the general populace, Hakkai was much more subtle and polite about it. “But I guess that’s to be expected. They don’t have respect for such soiled goods as we, do they?”
The blond didn’t say anything to that, knowing there was no way he could even begin to refute it. The two of them were simply the Vatican’s errand boys, most often that not handling the Church’s dirty work that no one every spoke of. “Whatever. Let’s go see what he wants now.”
-----
They were led into the Cardinal’s office by a quiet young nun, who simply bowed her head and left them to stand in the middle of the room. The office itself was lavishly decorated with rare art pieces and statues lining the wood-paneled wall. Expensive tapestries were draped this way and that, adding some semblance of color to an otherwise dreary room. An expansive desk made of antique cherry wood sat in the middle-right area, glowing almost ethereally in the fading sunlight streaming in through the nearby window. It made Sanzo sick just looking at it.
“So the two of you are here? How unlike you to be so prompt,” a painfully polite voice called from behind them, drawing their attentions to the doorway they had come through moments earlier. The owner of the voice stood poised there, looking elegant and grand, even if the man himself was anything but. Dressed in fine crimson robes threaded with gold befitting his status, the smug expression and smile seemed out of place. Even his multi-colored eyes were filled with a glint of superiority as he walked gracefully to his desk.
“Cardinal Homura Taisho,” the two lower priests chorused, sounding almost forced and practiced. It was the same dance that the three always found themselves engaged in, never deviating from the routine. Sanzo had to squelch the instantaneous reaction to punch the man squarely right in his unchanging face, even as he dared not meet those unsettling eyes. Sanzo’s mentor had told him an accident had rendered his superior with the two-toned eyes, one the color of polished topaz and the other a drowning azure. Despite that, it was what he saw in those depths that unnerved him, even if he didn’t make an outward show of it.
The man called Homura seated himself behind the desk, making a show of settling down in the lush chair. “I suppose you’re wondering why I summoned you here so soon after your last mission,” he started in his usual tone, still polite with just the faintest hint of scorn to sour his words.
Again, neither man took the bait and simply nodded, keeping their heads bowed in mock reverence. “You know we are always humbly at your service, Your Eminence,” Hakkai intoned courteously, speaking for himself and his companion since he didn’t trust what the other might say. Just like with the peons, the blond had no qualms about being outward with his dislike of their superior, much to the brunet’s chagrin.
Homura smiled widely, if it were possible without distorting the expression on his face. “Good, good. There’s something that I need you to do that is very important, and you must not tell anyone of what I am about to tell you. Do you understand?” he asked, face turning grave in a matter of seconds. At their nods, he asked bluntly, “Tell me, have either of you ever heard of something called the Stigmata?”
The two men reacted to the word so solemnly spoken with Hakkai’s breath catching in his chest and Sanzo narrowing his eyes skeptically. “Yeah, it’s when someone, normally devoutly religious, begins to suffer from the wounds of Christ,” Sanzo answered in a bored tone, sounding less and less convinced as the words trailed from his lips. He had heard of the strange occurrence before, but his lack of faith prevented him from seeing any real truth behind it.
A solemn nod was their reply, elaborated on with, “Yes, exactly. There has been a reporting of someone who is suspected of having the Stigmata. I need to two of you to go and investigate it.” There was an undercurrent of finality in his voice, and the look in his eyes transformed into something dark. With a single look, both men silently agreed that there was more to this than the man was letting on.
“But isn’t the Stigmata rare? Isn’t it something the Church usually dismisses as heresy?” Hakkai questioned, starting when his superior’s eyes were trained on him with a fair amount of annoyance.
“That’s why I want you to investigate it. We cannot make a formal decision until the matter has been thoroughly investigated by a member of the Church,” Homura explained, letting out an irritated huff, as though he were speaking to unruly children instead of two grown men. “If it turns out to be a hoax, then you will return with nothing more than a report. However, if it is a real case of the Stigmata, you will bring them back here for further interview.”
Something about this whole conversation set Sanzo’s teeth on edge and a quick glance to his partner told him that Hakkai was feeling much the same way. The blond had noticed that Homura hadn’t elaborated on the need for secrecy. “Why us? Shouldn’t you contact the Vatican and send someone from the real investigative department with more knowledge about it?” he queried snappishly, even as he tried to make it sound more like an offhand comment.
Homura’s expression broke into another curving grin, eyes glinting wolfishly. “And shouldn’t you know better than to question the orders of your superior?” the ebony-haired man replied simply, the contempt echoing through such seemingly bland words. “What would the late Cardinal Koumyou say if he knew you were being so obstinate?”
Sanzo’s eyes widened for a split second, before narrowing into dangerous slits once again. Clenching his fist and biting his tongue, he looked away from the man in silent deference. How dare he bring Koumyou into this? He knew the man was just pressing his nerves, practically begging him to lose control. Homura made it no secret that he thought the two of them were expendable, no matter how skilled and useful they were. A hindrance was a hindrance, after all. “My apologies, Your Eminence,” the blonde grit out after a moment, feeling the sting of his nails digging into the flesh of his palm.
“Good. You leave first thing in the morning. Accommodations have already been prepared for you upon arrival. Remember, this is very, very important. You are dismissed.”
(Translation: It is a consolation in misery to have a fellow sufferer)