Slightly shorter update, due to where the convenient chapter breaks in events are. Nope, still don’t own them.
And..uhm…warnings…some language, and very snippy angst.
Sanzo? Bitter? NEVER, whatever would give you that idea?
----------------------
----------------------
In good weather, keeping a decent pace, it's two days walk between the village and Chang'An; bad weather or slow travel drag it out to three or four, and we move at a crawl. It's not that I don't want to get him to Chang'An as soon as possible, to get him to a healer and get this whole fucked-up wreck over with, but I don't dare push him with his injuries - not that I think he'd complain if I did. He takes the three days walk never speaking, only eating or sleeping when commanded, mechanically following whatever pace I set with one distant, uninjured eye that doesn't even seem to see me or Goku. The wounded eye wanders aimlessly elsewhere while he scratches at it now and then, despite my best efforts to stop him. It's less like I'm leading a living person and more like I'm some necromancer from the old tales, forcing the unburied dead to follow my lead from where he fell to where the proper last rites can be done. A few times Goku even tries to talk to him, over meals or a campfire at the roadside; the most he gets is a vague acknowledgement that he's there. Goku hasn't complained about the slow pace once; he opened his mouth once or twice after running ahead, then looked guiltily at Gonou, limping along just behind me, and then usually joined us trudging along for a while, suddenly finding the road gravel inordinately and glumly fascinating. Traffic doesn't spare us a second look, although I catch a few pitying looks that hurry by faster, afraid to ask, when Gonou stumbles.
Gonou's walking dead, limping along brokenly waiting to be allowed to die; just like I was doing six, seven years ago.
Just like I think I'm still doing on some level; one walking corpse leading another.
The further we get, the more I find myself giving up; I've started caring about what happens here, it hurts too much to watch to honestly say everything's still dead like I'd believed. The more I admit that, the more it feels like I'm putting whatever's still alive to care in the noose to wait.
A day and a half out, between the worsening condition of his eye and the hints of damp where the bandage rests, threatening infection, I lead to a small clinic among a collection of buildings on the roadside. There's some travelers and local farm folk waiting; I pause long enough to check that there's no serious injuries or illnesses, and cut through the line to the front, just lucky enough to catch the doctor cleaning up from his last patient. He's a bit younger than the doctor back in the village.
"I'm on temple businesses; I have a young man with serious injuries that need to be tended before we can continue."
He starts to argue, pointing at the line; I fix him with a sharp look, and he glances between me and Gonou with a frown, sighs, and waves us in. Goku hops on a bench in the corner, watching and listening intently; Gonou blankly takes a seat on the table.
"Alright, what's wrong?" The question is addressed to Gonou, who doesn't even seem to hear.
"There's bandages on a gut wound that need to be changed so we can get him to a chi-healer, and his eye injury is getting worse."
He pauses in surprise that I've answered, and studies Gonou with an unsettled frown, as Gonou doesn't even look up. It's almost like he doesn't even notice when the doctor strips off his shirt to check the bandage, wincing with a murmur of shock at the seriousness of the injury. "What happened?"
"Youkai attack." Like I'm going to go into this one with a roadside clinic.
He changes the bandages with a sort of timid caution, as though almost afraid to handle the wound, and pauses with visible relief when the new bandages are wound, another awkward pause when he realizes Gonou has yet to acknowledge his presence. "Alright, let's look at that eye." It seems less like he's trying to talk, than that he's staving off any reaction in standard clinic chatter; as he wrings out a rag of warm water and reaches to clean Gonou's eye, Gonou reacts for the first time, flinching away, starting to tremble again as the eye is cleaned. Once the dried blood is gone, the doctor starts examining it, holding Gonou's face steady in the light gently; Gonou flinches again when the doctor lifts the lid to examine the eye itself, breath catching into a low, breathless whistle through his teeth. "The cuts go almost all the way through the lid...there's an old blood clot caught under it that looks like it's been there a day or so, it's probably what's been irritating it." It's a small relief that his scratching may not've been purely self-destructive. "I'll clean out what I can, but it will start bleeding again, and if it gets damaged any further he might lose the eye; you're close enough to Chang'An that it might be best to keep a bandage over it until he sees a healer, just to keep anything else from getting stuck under it." It's like he's gotten used to the idea, by now, that Gonou won't acknowledge or answer, and everything is directed to me.
Gonou twitches with a slight whimper as the doctor removes the clot, hunching over and pulling back again into the foggy distance as the eye is cleaned again and bandaged. The doctor releases us with a sort of quiet, marveling worry, almost asking questions several times as he finishes and sends us on our way.
On the last day, we pass the traveler's shrine on the road close to Chang'An, offerings to the gods laid out around its feet for safe passage.
The gods save no one.
When I stop alongside it, studying it coldly, Gonou comes to a slow halt, not even looking up, just standing still waiting for me to move again; Goku looks back, recognizing the look, and hops into a low-hanging tree branch to watch in resigned patience for whatever fit of pique just struck. It's daytime, heavy traffic, and I'm both too sober and too on-duty to cuss the shrine out like I'd like; but that doesn't mean I can't say a prayer.
And if the quiet sutra sounds bitter, sarcastic, or cynical to anyone, they're just listening close enough to catch what I actually mean.
I bet you think this is hilarious, don't you - turning him into all my worst parts. Take some other poor unsuspecting sucker with a happy life, and ruin it and a lot of others just so you can remind me what I really am; and if this was some warped way of answering my wish that something would be done about Hyakugan Maoh, you can have that rusty poleaxe Gojyo was talking about a few days ago - I'm sure you'll know what to do with it. What the fuck did I ever do to you anyway, to get this kind of lead-touch karma, eh? Oh, no, can't do the simple, honest thing and throw me in a dungeon to be tortured for a few decades; you have to get creative, play a bank shot, and make sure everyone I even think about helping suffers. What's the point of this one? Don't tell me you didn't have a hand, either, when you had the damned Sanbutshin tell me to do it; had to make sure I knew it was your idea, to make me a part of this, all this blood and misery. What, did you realize there might be something in me you assholes hadn't broken yet? Can't have that, now, can we? Well, you know what? This red on my hands is blood, and just like I know some of his victims were perfectly innocent, I know some of mine haven't deserved it either, and when I die this life, you can go ahead and give me a tour of the Hells for it; I'm sure the demons, who're at least honest about their torments, are better company than you jokers any day, and it'd be a nice break from this fucked up cosmic joke you call a life.
Sons of bitches.
When I turn to continue on, Gonou hasn't moved from where he stands until I start walking again. Goku hops back to the road with a curious look and a list of questions about how I never pray to the gods, trying to figure out when the other shoe's going to drop or if it already has and he just didn't see it.
----------------------
I've barely gotten in the gates when some acolyte catches me with a message that I'm to bring him directly to the temple, no detours. Of course the kid doesn't have the authority to tell me any more than that, or for me to argue at all and actually get anywhere, that's why they sent a lower acolyte instead of one of them telling me themselves; make it so I have to go there to argue, which means bringing him and precludes whatever I'd be arguing anyway. As soon as the message is delivered and I've recognized the futility of snapping at the flinching student, he races back to let them know I'm here.
And apparently, they managed to hear one way or another of my progress down the road, enough to know when I was going to show up, and be ready and waiting. They're probably hoping to move things along quickly enough to make it hard for me to argue with them or their decisions. Of course, now that they've been warned I'm there, they've all made it to the great hall, leaving me with nothing but students and monks without the authority for anything I say on the way in to do any good. I snap instructions at Goku to try not to cause too much trouble and dismiss him to free run of the temple, and lead Gonou to the great hall.
Even at the gate to the hall, it's just one of the lower functionaries, a glorified secretary, who meets us, with one of the guards shifting nervously behind him, carrying shackles; there's a moment of disbelief as he sees the young man behind me.
The first active thing Gonou's done in days is to hold out his hands for the shackles.
“That won't be necessary.” The monk holding the shackles freezes; it's hard to tell who he's more afraid of, me or Gonou.
Gonou turns to look me in the eye, keeping a steady gaze. “It's okay.” It's almost as if he's barely remembering how to speak, just enough to say that; an aura-prickle from the one unbandaged green eye, all worthlessness and guilt, soul bleeding out onto the stones. The phantom noose tightens with a jerk, old knives in old wounds twisting at my own helplessness to do anything. The only consolation is that they can't execute him and still be good little Buddhists; he's not walking to his death.
“Fine then, suit yourself.” I turn away as the shackles click shut, a raw feeling in my throat; it probably won't even matter what judgement passes, the wreckage this mess's been from the start is still twisting away inexorably, dragging out in front of me.
The door opens as we're announced; the functionary stays outside, shutting the door behind us, Gonou walking beside me between the two rows of all the highest-ranking priests and monks in the temple kneeling on cushions. The only light comes from candles spaced along the walls. The head of the temple is sitting up a few steps at the far end of the room; a place has been left empty for me at the head of the right row, another marked out in the middle in front of it for Gonou. I walk to it staring straight ahead, without looking at or acknowledging any of the other priests. Gonou kneels obediently at the bottom of the steps.
“Cho Gonou, you are brought before us today to answer for your crimes. You have killed two entire clans of youkai, numbering roughly one thousand in all. What excuse do you give for your actions?” His voice echoes through the silent stone chamber; he speaks strongly, for someone who's barely set foot outside this temple in his life, has no real comprehension of what the world outside is, and who's expressed a desire to see me in the spot Gonou's kneeling now more than once, stopped only by my rank as Sanzo.
“None.” The near-whisper is picked up by the stone walls, mixed with a wave of surprise that moves through the room; I'm sure they'd all expected protestations of innocence, or at least an attempt at explanation of motives; when the normal law enforcement defers to the temple as a neutral authority, it's never a simple matter.
“Do you admit to these heinous actions and accept whatever sentence is given to you for your crimes?” He's still poised and expecting some challenge, some argument back.
“I do.” Gonou looks up calmly. It's probably not my imagination that there's a brief flinch from the head of the temple, but it's only momentary before he recovers his usual holier-than-thou attitude.
“Then for your crimes you will atone, through fasting and meditation, one day for each of your victims. You will spend each day meditating on one of the innocents you killed, and how they might have lived their lives had you not cut their days short.”
What.
The.
FUCK?! Goddamned fucking BASTARDS! Trust these hypocritical self-righteous sons of bitches to not only find a loophole out of “Never take another life”, but to find a way to do it and assure a slow, horrible death. I look at the others assembled for the first time, scanning the room without moving, trying to find any trace of a smug flicker that might tell me whose idea this was; the calm, approving mutter gives no real clues, although I can think of a few I'm going to have words with later, one of whom catches my gaze and flinches - especially words with -him-. Gonou bows without any sign of caring what he's just been sentenced to; if this is what I brought him all the way here and went to all this trouble for, why didn't they just tell me to shoot him when I found him and get it over with quickly and cleanly?
“That's hardly a fair sentence.” Gonou looks up at me in surprise. “This man will die long before the thousand days are up.” There's a large number of 'don't-tell-me-Genjo-Sanzo-the-psychopath-is-getting-a-sense-of-mercy-now' stares settling on me; one of these days, they're going to push their little too-holy-to-care games too far, and I'm going to snap and kill every one of them. I've killed priests before, I know I'm capable. Something clicks in my head from three ways, that I may yet be able to do something to make this salvageable and beat them at their own game, yank their loophole out from under them. “For sins as serious as his, he should suffer much more than a mere handful of days before his body gives out.” And it'd probably be less than that, with his wounds. “Death would only be an escape for him; he should be made to live every day with the knowledge of what he's done, and devote his life to atonement for his crimes.” That flinch away from living is showing in his eye again, as he drops his head and slumps in front of me. Dying like this would change nothing; leave behind some wreckage of a tragedy for people to shake their heads at in later days and forget about.
“Surely you can't be serious; this judgement was not made with suffering as an intent, only atonement.” Gods I hate him.
“My statement stands regardless; death by starvation is suffering whether you choose to acknowledge that or not, and for over a thousand lives, a few days of suffering is measly penance. He has expressed that his life has no worth, so it's not like he's gaining anything by living save more time to spend in atonement, and if that is the true goal of this judgement, than is it not more worthy that he should live until he's made -proper- restitution for his crimes?” My attention is entirely and coldly on the head of the temple, daring him to go ahead - find some way to argue that he's not really trying to execute Gonou without getting blood on his hands.
“I'm afraid that we cannot release him with no further comment; there must be some proper punishment made. One should not be allowed to walk away from the taking of a life without atonement.” A sharp edge on that sentence, a subtle jab at me. “We cannot turn a blind eye to such deeds forever.” A not so subtle jab at me.
“Then allow the name of Cho Gonou to die here, to become a new life dedicated to payment for these crimes.” Symbolic death, not a rare occurrence in the temple at all.
“Do you really believe a simple symbolic death and taking of a new name would be sufficient for even one tenth of his crimes?” Pure disbelief and aloof arrogance.
“Far moreso than a few brief, cut off days of torment.”
“I am afraid we cannot agree with this judgement; something must be done to properly acknowledge the magnitude of his sins. Even should he be allowed to continue as another life, he must be made to comprehend his actions.”
Fine then; make me play dirty. “If you feel that strongly about this simple murderer's case, I could always take it up before the Sanbutshin, as they have, after all, apparently taken an interest in requesting my direct involvement with, and responsibility for, Cho Gonou.” That's two not-so subtle reminders; first that I technically can gain an audience with the Sanbutshin without being summoned, and therefore outrank him, potentially enough to override him outright; and second, that the Sanbutshin themselves made Cho Gonou my responsibility.
He flags with a wounded expression, shocked whispers running through the others. “That…truly won't be necessary; perhaps we could seek a compromise?” There's a badly-quelled whining undertone beneath his carefully groomed arrogance.
“Perhaps, if proper terms can be met that do not involve a misnamed execution.” Sour whispers and mutters all around me; they don't like being called on their hypocrisies.
“We shall concede life as perhaps a more proper fate in this instance, and the death of Cho Gonou. However, surely you must agree that some concession must be made to the seriousness of his crimes, and to the building of a proper foundation for a new life?”
“That will depend upon the form the concession takes.” I'm not giving up the upper hand in this so easily.
“Maintain the thousand days of atonement as an acolyte here, to be given a new name at the end of that period; of course he will be under your direct supervision for that entire time, being your responsibility." One thousand days...just under three years, cooped up in here, calling him "Hey you" for lack of a name, both putting up with the other assholes here and trying to keep them from harassing him too badly. Oh fuck no, he knows I won't go along with that.
"And of course, as my responsibility, any details of that atonement, including decisions on alterations to its exact length, will be at my discretion."
He shifts uncomfortably, realizing that he gave me that loophole to work with, and if he argues, he'll be hanging his own arguments. "Very well. These terms are accepted."
All eyes fall on Gonou, who's kneeling slumped, with no reaction; aura gone to a dark roil turned in on itself. He may not've even heard a word that was just said.
The head of the temple clears his throat. "Cho Gonou, hear your sentence!", he snaps; Gonou flinches and looks up. "Cho Gonou is hereby sentenced to immediate death. You, nameless one, will remain here as a lowly acolyte and purify yourself through atonement and abstinence. The honored Genjo Sanzo will be responsible for your actions, so mind you act appropriately to repay him for sparing your life." They'd better leave what's appropriate to my discretion; and of course now his life is being spared, although they claimed they weren't trying to kill him. "You will be under his care for one thousand days, or until he judges that you have atoned for your sins, at which time you will return here and be baptized with a new name to fit your new life."
The echoes fade out; the now-nameless looks stunned and dumbfounded as the lines start filing out, not moving until I stand and start to walk past him. The functionary is already waiting with a note of further bureaucracy; at this rate, I'm not going to be able to get him to the healer until tomorrow morning.
----------------------
The candles in the chamber of the Sanbutshin gutter as I pass, eyes on the floor; I stop to kneel in front of them, never looking up. It's enough that I'm trying to burn a hole in the floor by staring at it; I'm tempted enough to remember that I could bitch out the Gods' representatives directly, instead of ranting at poor innocent shrines here and there, without looking up and seeing them. I think all that stops me some days is that dealing civilly with them is part of my job, and I was trusted with this job by someone whose opinion actually mattered to me.
"Genjo Sanzo." How nice of them to be slightly informal; if I hear my full title today any more than I have to, I might kill something.
"I brought him here." Go ahead, ask me how it went.
"...Good." They're thinking something over, but of course they're not going to fill me in on what's going on. I just wait for them to say something, or ask for further report, maybe volunteer an explanation for once, but it never comes. "You are dismissed."
I stand and turn without ever looking at them and sweep back out, my passing disturbing the candle flames again.
----------------------
After much running of errands, it's after sundown and I've barely caught a hazy snatch of dinner, my nameless charge is asleep in his cell, and I don't know of any healers I can catch at this hour, but there's one last unscheduled meeting I need to make. I find a spot just out of easy sight by a pillar in the main hallway of the north wing of the temple, counting on routine and habit, watching a candle slowly burn down while I wait for one specific cadence of footsteps.
Sure enough, not ten minutes later there's a hurried tak-t-tak-tak-t-tak passing by, walking unusually fast on his way to his chambers.
"Good evening, Sir Constable-Intermediary." Caught him; the official in charge of dealings between the temple and secular authorities.
He misses a step at my voice, halting on the other side of the pillar. "Why, most honored Sanzo, what brings you to this hallway this late?" A nervous quaver tinges his voice.
"Well, seeing as how my chambers are here in the north wing, it shouldn't be that surprising. You seem to be in an unusual hurry, though.” I have no need to rush; I'll give him his empty pleasantries, he knows damn well why I'm here.
“Just wrapping things up for the day, the usual…” He's skittering around the subject of why I hailed him down. “Mightn't you have some business to attend to?”
“Actually, I had hoped to have a talk with you about certain recent events.” Cat-paw slams down on mouse-tail.
“Oh…really…which events would those be?”
“It would seem that everyone was quite well prepared for my arrival today.”
“Oh yes, that…” He trails off with a slight nervous laugh.
“I would rather hope, that the sentence was merely something meant to test my responses, as a temple dedicated to the mercy of Buddha should be above such petty hypocrisies; but that's probably too much to ask, now isn't it? After all, if it had only been intended as a test, I doubt I would have had to invoke the Sanbutshin and my own authority to deal with that. You wouldn't happen to know whose idea it was, would you?” He can't get away without slighting me, and I outrank him, but I'm sure by now that he wants to escape rather badly.
“No, of course not!” Shades of a lie.
“Considering the affair at hand, that seems slightly suspicious; if I were to hazard a guess, I'd think you were rather likely to've had a hand in it.”
“It most certainly was not my idea.” The truth, but some other glimmer; not his idea, but he'd supported it.
“That's quite good for you; if it had been your idea, I'd have to think that you were dealing with certain associates again.”
The nervous twinge shoots out to a colder fear. “I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that, Honored Sanzo.”
“Well, then, I'll make it simple and straightforward. If I find out that you're taking payoffs, rolling over to threats, or otherwise letting certain criminal elements dictate your actions again…” I take out the pistol, click it open to check that it's loaded, then click it back together with a spin to the revolver's chambers, just to make sure he hears it. I can hear him swallow hard. “They're not the only ones that can make people disappear. You haven't been dealing with them lately, have you?”
“No - not at all, not that way.” Mostly not a lie. Mostly.
“It might be wise to make sure that you don't, then.” I walk out from behind the pillar, spinning the revolver around one finger just to make sure he sees me put it away as I head for the stairs leading up to my room.