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Sober Moments by OptiMoose
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Disclaimer: "Gensomaden Saiyuki, Saiyuki: Reload, Saiyuki: Gaiden" and all of its characters were created by Kazuya Minekura. They belong to her and were used without prior permission. No profit is made through this story.

Author's note: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any inconveniences caused by this.

A special thanks goes to KarotsaMused for her kind beta.

hunger-ghost, Asura: stages of existence in the buddhist's 'Six Ways'

Constructive criticism, feedback and flames (directed at the story) are welcome. However, if you flame me as a person, I'll send Gyoukumen after you. You have been warned.

Warning: This is not shonen-ai, Boy's Love, Yaoi or slash.

WARNING: Major character deaths!!! (Only permanent if you blink)


Sober Moments

By Birgit "Lee" Kohls

October 2004

'Non-attachment is the key,' he told his disciples in his sober moments. 'Attach yourself and you'll lose everything.'

When he was sober, he taught the kids how to fold paper planes. He smoked a cigarette and listened to their laughter and watched them form friendships, argue and reconcile. When he was sober, he stood on the fringe of life, longing for something that he used to be attached to but that was long lost to him forever.

However, his sober moments were rare. Sober moments meant that he had to make choices and take control over his life. In his sober moments, he was Kouryuu and Genjo Sanzo. So he avoided being sober. He soaked his mind in alcohol until he was too drunk to be responsible for himself, a nameless, useless something that others studied with disgust.

The monks shot him disdainful looks when he staggered back to his room. He never hid the bottles of 'Heavenly Water' that had replaced his meals, deaf to the complaints of the temple clerics that a Sanzo should lead by example. His hair, graying from its youthful blond, tangled down to his waist in a mess of knots and dirt. The formerly white robe was stained and stank of sweat, urine and puke, but he didn't care.

The important title he bore failed to protect him, it no longer worked as a cover for his transgressions or created respect amongst the people around him. He didn't blame them; he had lost respect for himself a long time ago.

His eyes shone feverishly, the sick yellow tinge of his pale skin making him look like a hunger-ghost rather than a human being. 'They were right, back then in Tizan. I'm an Asura, a creature lower than human and youkai... all I ever brought was death and destruction.'

He had long lost count of how many people he had killed, but a few faces stood out in the raging sea of bloodied bodies that demanded his soul.

Koumyou Sanzo sensei - dead, because a boy had arrogantly considered himself strong.

Shuueei and the monks of Tizan - victims of the same boy's selfish vow.

Kougaiji and little Lirin - gone, because they had stood in a self-important monk's way to retrieve his sutras.

Ghosts of the past troubled his mind, memories kept him awake night after night. He huddled in a corner on the floor of his dark office, the bottle of alcohol clutched in trembling hands. Through dulled, amethyst eyes he looked at three softly glowing sutras that lay on his desk.

Son Goku — dead because a useless monk had not been careful about a precious life.

Sha Gojyo — yet another victim of the monk's haughty crusade for an ancient scroll.

Cho Hakkai — dead, because the monk's selfish need for the sutras had left the healer with no other choice.

In his pompousness, he had called them servants. He had abused them with words and deeds, vented his frustration on them and taken them for granted. He had ridiculed them with every step towards the West, announced shamelessly that he had better things to do than hang out with worthless creatures like them.

Never once had he called them friends.

His vision blurred, and he took a deep gulp from the bottle.

Ukoku Sanzo had offered a fair deal - the lives of the idiots for all of the sutras. The experiments would end, no more minus wave, and all Genjo Sanzo had to do was say 'yes'.

He had ignored the sprung trap. It had sounded so easy. Just play along, pretend that nothing mattered but the sutras, then strike the enemy when he least expects it. 'Been there, done that, easy victory.' It should have been no problem at all.

His friends had paid the full price for his unbridled arrogance.

Back then, he told himself he had to buy time. He wanted to believe that all means and sacrifices were justified as long as the sutras were returned to his hands. He thought of Ukoku's offer as a high stakes gamble, and Sanzo's smug cleverness had never lost him a bet. So he had willingly delivered his friends to death.

Truth was, he had not understood the rules of the game that the lab-coat clad man with his ridiculous, stuffed rabbit doll had played until it was too late. Impudently, Sanzo had been certain everything was under his control. He knew he could outsmart his opponent. In reality, he was hopelessly outclassed.

The betrayal was thorough. Goku, Gojyo and Hakkai had trusted him when he told them to step into the chalk circle where the sutras waited. When the magic unleashed by Ukoku's tantras tore them apart and pain blurred the world around them, each of his friends still clung to the trust they had in Sanzo.

'Asura... Sensei should have listened to them. I hope I'll be reborn in hell.'

Their final moments haunted him. Their pained expressions had shifted to anger when they realized that they were pawns in his gambit. But the anger had vanished, was replaced by understanding and finally resignation as they ceased to resist the maelstrom of light that the sutras created. There was no regret, no hostility - just acceptance, care and trust.

'Non-attachment.'

Goku faced death silently, but the tears that ran from his eyes said more than a million words.

'It's up to you now, corrupted monk.' Gojyo's long, red hair had danced like flames in the ethereal winds as his body disbanded into shining fragments of pure essence.

'Live,' Hakkai had said and smiled as he slowly dissolved into energy, his entire being becoming part of the sutras. 'Live a good life, so that we don't die in vain.'

Genjo Sanzo had failed to fulfill their wishes, just like he had failed everyone else in his measly existence.

Ukoku Sanzo had triumphed. The man's insane laughter still rang through Sanzo's nightmares occasionally.

'I've won,' Ukoku had said and before he handed Genjo Sanzo the softly glowing sutras. 'The darkness swallows the light. All it needed was to kill your sensei.'

Sanzo's bullets turned Ukoku Sanzo's body into a bloody mess.

Traitor, murderer, Asura, monster...

'My parents had the right idea when they tried to drown me. Everyone would have been off better with me dead.'

Around him, Tougenkyou woke from a nightmare, human and youkai suffering from the aftermath of the minus wave. The separation was there, a fresh and deep cut like the wound in Sanzo's soul.

The experiments on Gyuumao had ended. The sutras were back where they belonged, his sensei was avenged. Genjo Sanzo's mission was complete.

The sutras and peace in exchange for his friends. What a madness, what an arrogance he possessed, to play with the lives of those who trusted him.

'Non-attachment, Genjo Sanzo-style' had been proven to be a mistake. In the end, his weakness and pride had been his downfall. He had carelessly sacrificed the ones who mattered, just to learn that he couldn't stand alone, walk alone, live alone. Only then Sanzo began to fathom the full scale of his treacherous act.

His frantic hope that there was some way to retrieve his friends from the sutras had made him push himself and Hakuryuu to both their limits, and beyond. The dragon never recovered. Sanzo buried the faithful creature in the wilderness, on a cliff overlooking endless grassland.

After three months, he reached Chang'An, desperate for a solution to his dilemma.

The Three Aspects calmly explained that there was no way to recover his friends.

He swore that he would find a way. He spent his life in search for knowledge, with the sutras as his constant companions. He talked to the sacred scrolls, listened for answers that never came. At times, he could have sworn he heard Goku whine for food, or Gojyo teasing him. Sometimes, he even thought he heared Hakkai talking softly to Hakuryuu.

Many years later, after he had tried even the most obscure methods from the furthest corners of the world, he had to admit to himself that the Aspects had told the truth.

He had no clear recollection of the days and weeks that followed the realization that he had failed.

The five sutras sat on his desk, silent, ancient and glowing.

When he was sober, he could see a new generation of youkai and humans growing up full of hatred for each other.

When he was sober, he knew that he had to pick the successors of the killed Sanzos and present them to the Aspects.

When he was sober, he wished he had prepared the 32nd descendant of Toa properly for the tasks that waited in the future.

However, Genjo Sanzo's sober moments were rare.

End


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