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Don't Let It Show by Elvaron
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Don’t Let it Show
An ‘And Time Again’ side story.
sf, October 30, 2003.


Summary : And in the years after Gyuumao’s death, Goku wandered alone.
Rating : PG


Background knowledge of ‘And Time Again’ advised.


--


"I don’t know what they were getting at." One voice rose above the general murmur of conversation in the restaurant.


"Yeah," another voice seconded. "I mean, just go and kill the guy, right? Stop what’s-his-face’s resurrection. Kill all those mad youkai. But no, they had to screw it up royally." A derisive snort.


He didn’t look up, preferring to concentrate on his noodles.


"Now those youkai have gone totally nuts, man! Postal! They’re running around and scavenging and tearing up people left right and center! I thought all this nonsense would stop after they destroyed that castle, but they must have forgotten something important."


"Like I said : They screwed up royally."


Slowly, his fingers tightened around his chopsticks. If only they knew. If only...


His vision blurred, just briefly. I miss you guys. I miss you guys so much.


If it's getting harder to face every day
Don't let it show, don't let it show
Though it's getting harder to take what they say
Just let it go, just let it go


"Hey, you want something to drink with that?" a waiter asked as he passed by.


"A cola-- no, a beer."


"Sure."


He stared at the noodles, appetite waning abruptly. You were right... I did go off and start drinking once you weren’t around to stop me.


The chopsticks slipped out of his fingers to clatter against the table. He paused, one hand pressed against his eyes, before blindly groping for them.


"After all that faith we put in him... all he ever did was lead the youkai right onto us!"


"’Sanzo’ indeed," came the replying sneer.


He dropped the chopsticks again at those words. Almost, he stood and stalked over, almost he turned around to scream, almost he--


"Your beer." The thunk of glass against the wood shattered the surge of anger.


"Thanks."


And if it hurts when they mention my name
Say you don't know me
And if it helps when they say I'm to blame
Say you don't own me


He lifted the bowl and drank, barely tasting the soup. Then he grabbed the mug and chugged the contents down as fast as he could, suddenly possessed of a desire to leave.


Gyuumao’s death had not resulted in the instantaneous salvation of Tougenkyou. Some youkai were still mad, although it was said that some had regained their sanity. Those that hadn’t, however, had poured out of Tenjiku, desperate and leaderless, tearing their way across the land until someone killed them.


And with all of the Sanzo party supposedly dead, there was no better scapegoat to blame for the sudden increase in youkai attacks.


Wearily, he shoved his past the tables towards the counter, resisting the urge to beat the two loud mouths into the next century. It would have been fruitless. It was just them and half a million other people voicing the same view. It’s all Sanzo houshi’s fault...


"And how will you be paying, sir?" the cashier asked sweetly.


"Card," he replied, and saw the brief flash of surprise in her eyes. A teenager carrying a credit card? She must have doubted its authenticity, for she peered closely at it.


"A Three Aspects Card?" she asked in surprise.


He barely stopped himself from flinching out right. "Yes it is."


"Are you..." she stared at him. "You’re not one of Genjo Sanzo’s disciples, are you? Hey, you look like Son Goku!"


He shook his head violently. "I’m merely on an errand for the Three Aspects. Besides, Son Goku was a youkai, wasn’t he?" he laughed. "Big golden limiter..." he pointed at his diadem-less forehead for emphasis. "No..." another shake of his head. "I’m not one of Genjo Sanzo’s disciples."


"Good." The cashier’s eyes hardened slightly. "I would hate to have him or anyone of his party pass through this restaurant. Why, just a month back... just..." the anger on her face dissolved without warning, as tears appeared at the corner of her eyes. "Tarou..." she whispered. "Tarou." Abruptly, she buried her face in her hands as she shoulders shook. "Tarou..."


He couldn’t find the words to say, so he just retrieved the card from where she’d dropped it.


"...They killed him," the girl was whispering. "Those beastly youkai killed him..."


"I’m sorry," he said quietly, and he meant it.


"He was supposed to stop it! He was supposed to kill all those youkai! But he didn’t... he didn’t... he..."


He was never meant to do anything of that sort. But he bit back the words through force of habit, swallowing the lump in his own throat.


He stared at the girl uncomfortably. Gojyo would have known what to do. Hakkai would have known what to say. Sanzo... Sanzo would have...


A voice like a cloudless sky... a voice that could dispel all worries.


He closed his eyes briefly in pained remembrance.


"I’m sorry," the cashier murmured, scrubbing tears away from her eyes. "I don’t know what came over me."


"It’s alright," he replied, accepting the receipt.


"Thank you, please come again," she murmured, but he could tell that her heart wasn’t in it.


After all, he wouldn’t be back again.


Even if it's taking the easy way out
Keep it inside of you
Don't give in
Don't tell them anything
Don't let it
Don't let it show


*


He remembered the ruins.


He remembered scrabbling madly through them. Racing through the deserted and unstable corridors. Digging through the dirt. Standing in the middle of the empty hall and just crying out for someone, anyone, anyone.


He found Gojyo first. The blood had clotted, the body was stiff and cold, but rot had not yet set in. He found Gojyo and his heart dropped to his toes. He’d hoped against hope, that somehow, somehow they’d survived. He’d survived. He wasn’t sure why or how -- he’d been so sure, in fact, that he was going to die. But he’d survived. But as he brushed those eyes -- those eyes the color of the setting sun -- shut, he felt a chill of dread.


You can’t be dead. You can’t!


When he found Hakkai’s body, he sank to his knees for a moment, numb beyond thought. Somewhere his vague recollection of the battle with Gyuumao, he thought he remembered Hakkai’s death. He thought he remembered Gojyo’s too, but it all seemed like a faint nightmare.


He remembered ... something about Sanzo. Faint hope stirred amidst the shock and the grief, just the most slender of slender threads...


The sutra room, he remembered. Where Sanzo was last headed.


 


 


He buried all the bodies outside the castle. Sanzo he’d lowered into the earth last, as if unable to let go of the hope that he was still alive.


Call out to me, he’d prayed silently, even as he began to fill in the graves. Call out my name. Call me a bakazaru. He stared at the pale face, remote and removed from him. "Say something, damn you!!!"


When the echoes faded, he fell to his knees, feeling as if he’d been physically torn open.


"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you have to die... why couldn’t I? Why am I still alive?" He stared up the brilliant blue sky overhead. "Wasn’t there supposed to be a happy ending? Weren’t we supposed to... go... home... together...?"


 


 


"When this is over, we’ll go back and have sukiyaki. How’s that, Goku?"


"Really? Really? Sukiyaki? We haven’t had that in ages and ages and ages! None of the restaurants seem to do it, or do it properly!"


"Yeah, and you can eat your heart out, bakazaru."


"Why would I want to do that, Gojyo?"


"It’s just a figure of speech, stupid."


"I’m not stupid! But, Sanzo, can we really? Can we really have sukiyaki? Can we?"


"Since Hakkai offered..."


 


 


That was the only time he really let the tears flow. In the middle of a brilliant spring day, under the brightly shining sun and a cloudless sky.


"I’ll look for you," he promised. "I’ll wait for you. I know you’re coming back, this time. I know you’ll find me. Even if I have to wait another five hundred years..."


 


*


"When this is over, we’ll go back and have sukiyaki," he whispered into the dark.


"Kids shouldn’t be wandering around this part of town at night, ya know," a voice oozed out of the darkness. The light of a street lamp shifted and splintered as several figures stepped into view.


Humans, he thought, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He continued walking.


"Kiddie wants to play, does he?" another voice asked. "How about you stop right there, punk, and we don’t cut your legs off?" There was a glint of light upon bare steel.


He rolled his eyes and kept walking.


 


The first thug charged at him and went flying backwards shortly after to collide messily with the other two.


He paused over their prone bodies, and stared emotionlessly down at them.


"Hey--, hey wait a minute!" one of the thugs said, scrabbling backwards. "Gold eyes, brown hair... you’re Son Goku!"


He stared back. "Really."


There was a flicker of uncertainty in the other’s eyes.


"It’s him, alright," the first thug said, getting warily to his feet. "Son Goku. No human could’ve moved that fast. Or punched that hard."


"You saying he’s a youkai?"


"Just look at those eyes! Those ain’t natural eyes!"


"So what if they are? So what I am?" he asked.


Even though you know it's the wrong thing to say
Say you don't care, say you don't care
Even if you want to believe there's a way
I won't be there, I won't be there


"You... youkai!"


"You and that bastard Genjo Sanzo must have set all those mad youkai free!"


"Yeah! No wonder you’re still alive!"


"You bastards planned this all along, didn’t you?


Something flared, white hot and furious, at that statement. He took a slow step forward. "Let me tell you something...." he whispered softly, fingers flexing. "I am not Son Goku." A whisper of wind as he darted forward to wrench the blade from one of the thug’s hands.


"Son Goku would never have killed low life humans like you."


 


 


He made certain that he’d wiped most of the blood away before he stepped onto the main street. The night would hide the blood stains on his clothes, but he would need to find a place to wash them before the dawn.


He stared down at his hands, feeling the familiar ache behind his eyes that came whenever he spilt blood these days. It was as if his demon self were still inside, struggling to get free. For a moment, he saw the shimmer of claws on the end of his fingers.


No, he thought. No. Once upon a time you might have stopped me, but you aren’t here any more...


He continued staring at hands, his own words coming back to haunt him. Son Goku would never have killed low life humans... I am not Son Goku.


"Who am I?" he wondered. "Who am I but a monster, wandering the streets and killing all who would get in my way?"


Who am I, when I have no one to call me by this name which I no longer answer to? Who am I, when I have no aim, no purpose, no place to go? Who am I, when I should have died, but am still alive?


He clenched his fist. I could just have knocked them out. But I had to go for blood, had to see it flow over my finger tips, had to smell the richness of it in the air... he shuddered briefly.


Still a youkai. Still a blood thirsty youkai.


"What would you have wanted me to do?" he asked of the night.


"I wouldn’t have wanted you to fight for my reputation, idiot."


The voice was so real that he spun with a cry on his lips, a cry that died, unspoken, as the emptiness of the street stared back at him. "What.. who? I thought... I thought I heard something..."


"I would have wanted you to be happy."


"Hakkai!" he called out, this time, but there was no one to hear. Who’s there? Why--


"I would have wanted you to quit stealing my food! Oh yeah, and grow a few brain cells."


Gojyo. He closed his eyes.


"Goku." Three voices.


"Be patient."


"Don’t be an idiot."


"...shut up."


"I will," he promised. "I will."


*


"Master Goku! You’re alive!"


He stared at the temple in front of him, feeling his heart wrench. The monks were hovering in the doorway, staring at him with a mixture of fear, awe, and hatred. He could smell it from here, the uncertainty, the mixed emotions, the accusations...


...the rumors must have reached here too.


"I have some unfinished business. Then I will leave," he announced. "I seek an audience with the Three Aspects."


"You’re not allowed in! Only Genjo--" the monk choked on the name. "Only Sanzos are allowed to step into the Inner Sanctum!"


He rolled his eyes. "There are no more Sanzos."


"And one such as you..." another voice piped up. "A youkai like you--"


The monk’s words twisted into silence as he leveled a stare at him. Then, unable to help it, Goku burst out laughing.


They were never really fond of Sanzo, were they? Neither him nor the little bakazaru he dragged home, the one who ate all their peaches and tracked mud all over their floor... me and the most-un-priest-like Sanzo... we must have given them a headache. And now, now when they believe that we’re responsible for everything...


"I’ll leave that to the Three Aspects to decide," he announced cheerfully, and bounded up the stairs before they could stop him.


"Stop!" "Hey wait! Stop!"


He laughed as he ran. Sanzo would have been able to catch him, but those monks tripping and falling over themselves... they weren’t Sanzo. They could never have been.


He dove at the great golden doors, shoved them open, and stepped through.


But if you smile when they mention my name
They'll never know you
And if you laugh when they say I'm to blame
They'll never own you


***


"Hey! I know you!"


A seven year old darted away from his mother’s side to stand in front of him, hands on his hips. "You’re Son Goku! You’re that guy from my story book!"


He started. "Story book?"


"Yeah! The silly bakazaru who goes around defeating demons! You have a stick, right? This great big red stick that--"


"--now, dear," the flustered parent had caught up, and was trying to shush the child. "Son Goku’s not real." She glanced back at him apologetically. "I am so sorry."


He chuckled. "No, no, it’s quite all right. Tell me about this Son Goku person. Did he have friends?"


"Yeah! There was this Sanzo and this Hakkai and this Gojyo..."


Even if you feel you've got nothing to hide


"And they all went to the West..."


Keep it inside of you


"...to defeat this big bad demon called Gyuu.. Gyuu-ma-ou."


Don't give in


"And they fought and they fought and they fought..."


Don't tell them anything


"...And it was hard but they killed him!"


Don't let it


"And then they all went home for sukiyaki!"



...Don't let it show


 


He smiled, although his vision had gone suspiciously cloudy. "Yes... yes, they did."


--


The End


--


Don’t Let It Show -- The Alan Parsons Project


If it's getting harder to face every day
Don't let it show, don't let it show
Though it's getting harder to take what they say
Just let it go, just let it go

And if it hurts when they mention my name
Say you don't know me
And if it helps when they say I'm to blame
Say you don't own me

Even if it's taking the easy way out
Keep it inside of you
Don't give in
Don't tell them anything
Don't let it
Don't let it show

Even though you know it's the wrong thing to say
Say you don't care, say you don't care
Even if you want to believe there's a way
I won't be there, I won't be there

But if you smile when they mention my name
They'll never know you
And if you laugh when they say I'm to blame
They'll never own you

Even if you feel you've got nothing to hide
Keep it inside of you
Don't give in
Don't tell them anything
Don't let it
Don't let it show


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