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End of Days by Elvaron
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End of Days




End of Days
by sf


Begun : March 13th 2003


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


Foreword :


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


Thus, I leave it to you, dear reader.


 


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


Consider yourself warned.


 


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


 


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


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


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


 


PROLOGUE


Each section is from a different character's PoV.
Beginnings I - Dawn


 


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


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


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


One day, forever came to an end.


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


 


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



And the days passed, one by one.


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


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


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


***


Beginnings II - Night


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


"What?" you ask.


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


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


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


***


Beginnings III -- Sunset


As with the sun...


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


"No stakes," your friend says.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


"Only when I was drunk."


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


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


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


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


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


"Ripping people's throats out?"


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


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


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


 


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


"Sure," you reply.


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


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


"New in town?" you ask.


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


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


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


"Droopy eyes?" you ask.


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


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


And I wouldn't have remembered it, except that I've never seen anyone use a gun in a barfight before...


...Not that he actually killed anyone, mind you. But he never did pay for the damage to the ceiling...


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


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


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


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


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


Tenjiku? Isn't that where you came from?


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


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


"...Yes."


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


"Whatever for?" you feel obliged to answer.


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


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


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


"In the West. Far in the West."


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


You slap your forehead and groan.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


***


 


Beginnings IV - Starlight


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


 


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


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


"Indeed."


"You seem rather free."


"There is nothing to be done."


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


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


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


"Which?"


"Both. And neither. Does it matter?"


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


"You don't seem very impressed."


"Should I be?"


"Most are."


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


"Both. And neither."


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


"The stars?"


"Heaven."


"Heaven is relative."


"True, that."


"So what does Heaven want?"


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


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


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


You smile at that. And wait.


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


"And its usual ones are astray?"


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


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


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


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


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


"Not officially, no."


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


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


"Both. And neither."


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


"Riddles never answered questions."


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


"Why not destroy the sutras?"


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


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


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


"And Heaven is not interfering?"


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


"And you think this will interest me."


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


"Hm."


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


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


***
To be continued
***




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