The Journey into Yaoifangirl Land
By Eline
Warnings: Men Behaving Badly. Some truly horrible innuendo and Freudian imagery. Bishies in drag. Bondage. Hentai yaoi fangirls by the metric tonne. Gratuitous references to other anime/manga. Mutilation of myth and clichés. All in very bad taste.
Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking cigarettes may cause lung cancer. (But it's okay if you're Sanzo.)
Very, very bad fanfic continues and actually reaches a kind of conclusion.
* * * * * * * * * *
A white van with "Ogenki Clinic" stencilled in big red letters on the side drove up to the service entrance of the Palace later that day with Nurse Hannah and another rather pretty brunette in a white uniform in the driver's compartment. They were waved through without any questions.
It had taken a little time before they could organise the escape plan and get the right disguises together. It was agreed that if the plan failed, they would say that they had coerced the nurse into helping them by letting her watch Gojyo and Hakkai in the private room, thereby making her the envy of the city and supplying an excuse that no one could possibly find fault with.
(Two hours had passed before Hakkai and Gojyo emerged, a little rumpled but cheerfully bearing with them the fruits of their labour.
"We kept forgetting about the jars--"
"Which was why we had to try a few more times," Hakkai said calmly.
"About twelve times more," Gojyo said with the smile of someone who knows the real limits of youkai stamina through experience.
"Twelve times?" At that point, Nurse Hannah had got this rather glazed look on her face. "*Twelve* times?"
"I always bring along an apron with me. It turns him on," Hakkai said, folding up said apron and stowing it away in spandex space.
Nurse Hannah barely managed to refrain from having a nasal haemorrhage on the spot.)
Fortunately, the spare nurse's uniform fitted Hakkai quite well. Goku and Gojyo, hidden in cardboard boxes labelled "medical supplies", escaped notice entirely.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was much activity centring around the person of Genjo Sanzo. After they had made it to the Palace without too much fuss (and only one person had to carted off to the infirmary due to blood loss), they had wrestled that tight shirt off him eventually, but his jeans were giving them some problems . . .
"It won't come off!" said one nose-plug-wearing servitor.
Sanzo, currently as limp as dead seaweed and mentally reciting the multiplication tables backwards, could have told them to give it up because there was no way his jeans could come off if he did not breathe in ever so slightly to allow for that one vital millimetre of give. But it has been noted that Sanzo was the kind of person who was ever so unhelpful, especially when people wanted to get his clothes off. (Furthermore, not even Calvin could ever get between Sanzo and his jeans, hence the rating of this fic doesn't quite cover Sanzo's ass after ripping his pants off.)
"Since it's skin-tight, we can just take a measurement now . . ." said the other woman, who was considering nose-plugs even if she didn't swing that way. "Pass the tape . . ."
* * * * * * * * * *
Once they were safely within the Palace grounds and parallel-parked, Hakkai un-packaged Goku and Gojyo. They were planning to skulk along behind Nurse Hannah, hoping that they'd be lead to Sanzo. Failing that, there was always Goku's nose and the spare set of Sanzo's sandals that Hakkai had brought along.
(Hakkai had to change out of the nurse's uniform though. Gojyo tended to get . . . distracted every time he looked at him in that get-up.)
"So what was the plan again?"
"Run in, get Sanzo and run for it."
"Right. What if that doesn’t work?"
"You're awfully pessimistic today, Gojyo."
"It's one of those days, Hakkai, I can feel it in my bones."
* * * * * * * * * *
Sanzo had had it up to here with this stupid situation. He had been poked, prodded and drooled over, not to mention almost being drenched by the last moron who had a nosebleed in his vicinity.
He got up, fished for his packet of cigarettes and lit one.
One of those annoying women bustled over. "Excuse me, you should refrain from smoking--"
Sanzo really hated resorting to this sort of thing, but he was too irritated to care. One fine blond eyebrow arched up as one corner of those pouty lips curled down. And the hips--let's not forget the cocking of the hips, which incidentally drew the eye to the fact that Sanzo was shirtless.
"Nnn--urk . . ." The formerly annoying lackey produced a suitably impressive spray range and flopped over from the loss of blood.
Sanzo's casual saunter out the door was not impeded in anyway by the guards outside, who were too busy trying to control the sudden bouts of nasal blood loss.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Someone's coming! Move!"
They ducked into an open doorway to wait for the women to pass. As luck would have had it, the entire party comprising of a familiar figure in black leather and some people who looked like courtiers in strange hats turned and entered their refuge, leaving guards at the door. Which turned out to be some sort of audience chamber. Which was already occupied a woman sitting at a large desk.
"I knew it," Gojyo sighed. "We could have been perfectly happy not meeting up with that Grand Vizier lady again for the rest of this fic, but nooo . . ."
"Eh? What's this?" the woman at the desk asked, clearly puzzled. She was pleasant-looking enough, though she appeared to be neck deep in paperwork.
"Majesty--these are three of those men from that fracas in the city this morning," the Grand Vizier said, looking them over calculatively.
"Men? Oh, I thought they looked rather strange . . ."
"They seem to like it here a lot. Maybe they're here to take up permanent residentship." The Grand Vizier leered in an obligatory fashion. "Reconsidering the cabana boy option?"
"We'll pass. We just need to get Sanzo and we'll be on our way."
"Eh, that's not an option--he's quite popular around here as it is."
"I regret that it has come down to this . . ." Hakkai said, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt (and causing fangirly palpitations across the land).
"I don't," the Vizier said, getting visibly excited and fingering her whip in a way that was guaranteed to scare the defiance out of lesser beings. "So it's a fight then?"
"Crap," Gojyo muttered and looked for someplace to hide.
"Gojyo, stay put," Hakaki said, never taking his eyes from the Grand Vizier.
"That's your little uke? This is going to be easy," the Grand Vizier cackled.
"We shall see," Hakkai said, a gleam in his one visible eye and his monocle. Gojyo felt the beginning of a whimper of protest forming at the uke crack.
("Really, I must protest this show of violence in my workplace," the Empress said mildly.
"Lady, do you actually think they're talking about fighting in that way?" Gojyo asked incredulously.)
But before things got any more interesting and the flow of events would force the author to do unspeakable things to Gojyo or do even more fanservice, a page ran in without knocking and passed the Grand Vizier a note.
"Urgent message for Her Majesty!"
The Grand Vizier read the note and frowned. "It is still your decision, Majesty," she said as she passed the note to the woman who was most probably the Empress.
"Um, what's this about anyway?" the Empress asked quizzically.
The Grand Vizier looked vaguely put out. "Majesty, I sent a memo."
Everyone looked at the overflowing in-tray on the desk. Whole civilisations could have got lost in it.
"A problem?" Hakkai inquired hopefully.
"This is not possible . . ." They read the note again. "You can't mean to say he's 56cm at the waist?"
"Hmm, 56 cm (22.5 inches) at the waist--that's Sanzo's measurement all right," said Hakkai, the most knowledgeable in matters like this solely because he did the group's laundry and mending of torn clothes.
"Her Majesty is 23 inches at the waist," the Vizier said, suddenly a lot less sure of herself. "It is not acceptable."
"What isn't?"
"Well, it's not a *rule* or anything . . . but--but it's not done to have a husband who has better waist measurements than the wife even when she's not pregnant!"
"Na, Sanzo's been pregnant before. But he didn't get to the stage where it actually shows," Goku said with his usual tact.
"I thought you said he was a virgin!"
No, we never said that. We just said that there was a *chance* of Sanzo being a virgin . . . with girls, the other three thought to themselves.
"Er, it was that river on the eastern border and three or four fanfics ago . . ."
"Oh dear, what's going on now?" the Empress asked. Her question went mostly unheard.
"Oh." The Vizier seemed to be at a loss for once. "This is unprecedented. A consort who has a better waist measurement and one who has drank from the River as well . . ."
"So he is not acceptable?"
"Well, we do need a consort and drool material . . ."
"An impasse, then," Hakkai said, his eyes lighting up ever so slightly with a look that Gojyo had seen on certain nights. "I have a suggestion . . ."
But before he could get around to actually suggesting anything, a bicycle bell sounded. A man on a bicycle that looked as though it had gone through Hell and back wheeled in, swearing and panting as he drew even with them.
"Oi, I've been cycling all the way to get here--"
The doors chose that moment to slam open again. The impetus was probably caused by the weight of the fallen guards, who appeared to be drooling and suffering from massive nosebleeds at the same time.
The cause of this stood in the doorway, irritably tapping his foot and smoking a cigarette. "You idiots are late--as usual," Sanzo snapped. "Now hurry up and get it over with so that we can get on with this stupid journey."
"Sanzo!"
"You're still alive?"
"You're okay!"
("Is he a man too?")
"You're a right bastard to track--that's what you are!" The last had came from the man with the bicycle. He plucked something out from the basket mounted on his bike and waved it at Sanzo.
"Here!" And he handed Sanzo a newspaper and his complementary member's issue of the Violent Violet-Eye Bishounen Society Monthly. "I had some job finding you in here! Not to mention all the crazy women chasing me all over the place!"
"Ano . . . You're the deliveryman? How do you find us every day?" Hakkai wondered in the sudden stupefied silence.
"Yeah. This route's a thankless job . . . You'd think it was *easy*. Just collect the day's paper at whatever local distributor's booth is the nearest and deliver the paper. It never said anything about deserts, mountains, forests and more deserts! But you're easy to find--I just look for a trail of destruction a mile wide or several hundred dead youkai," the delivery guy pointed out bluntly.
"I see . . ."
But the man was on a rant spree based on months of trekking over rough terrain on a daily basis and facing the leftovers of whatever danger they had encountered. "Or I could just ask all those townspeople who can always remember which way you guys went. For some reason, restaurant owners seem rather glad you all left. And he apparently never tips!"
Everyone sweat-dropped.
("Will someone tell me what's going on, who are all these people and what are they doing in here? I thought we were going through the last annual economic review today?" the Empress asked plaintively.)
"Oi, back to the business at hand," the Grand Vizier said, a trifle uncertain of how everything was going to go from here.
"I have an idea . . ." Hakkai said brightly, praying for no more interruptions. "If Her Majesty and everyone is amicable to it . . ."
I don't trust his ideas, Gojyo, Goku and Sanzo thought. Not one bit.
Hakkai's monocle glinted. "It came to me while I was speaking to Nurse Hannah here . . ." And they promptly detailed a course of action that would solve a lot of problems and allow everyone to carry on as usual with added benefits.
There was one person who had any objections to the Plan, but as it was, he was seriously out-voted.
* * * * * * * * * *
Somewhere, a bitch god(dess) was laughing it's head off.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was the setting sun, sinking in the west as usual. There was Jeep, heading off into the sunset as usual.
There was Goku, almost comatose after a very large meal.
There was Hakkai, eternally smiling. Though his smile at that moment *could* have been a millimetre or two wider than usual.
There was Gojyo, looking relaxed. But his grin is the kind that one normally sees on large, satisfied cats after a stint at the cream jug.
And there was Sanzo, who refused to look at anyone of them but merely sat there (rather gingerly), radiating an accusatory silence.
And so we have come to another day's end, another stopover at another anonymous motel along the way to the West . . . where we find the bottomless-pit--I mean Goku--and Gojyo arguing over the last egg roll and Hakkai feeding Hakuryuu/Jiipu while smiling benignly at their antics.
And Sanzo, wincing despite himself every time he sat down or got up from a chair. Then simply glaring at his erstwhile travelling companions for long stretches of time.
"I have just the thing," Hakkai said brightly, holding up a donut-shaped inflatable cushion that most people would recognise as a clinically-prescribed device for alleviating discomfort when one had a bad case of haemorrhoids . . . or other problems like what Sanzo had at the moment.
Muttering curses under his breath, Sanzo snatched the cushion and stalked stiffly to his room, bolting the door loudly behind him.
"Where did you get that thing from?" Gojyo asked idly through a haze of cigarette smoke.
"Oh, Nurse Hannah most kindly got it for me in exchange for the centrefold of the Violent Violet-Eyed Bishounen Society Monthly. It was Nuriko in drag."
Meanwhile, Sanzo was drafting out an article to send to the Violent Violet-Eyed Bishounen Society Monthly entitled "Dammit Why Do We Have To Be Uke All The Time?"
He shifted a bit on the cushion and started writing. (It smarted a lot, but it had come down to the choice of either Hakaki or that awful Grand Vizier woman welding that bloody paddle . . . He should have paid more attention to the noises from the other room whenever Hakkai and Gojyo got into the mood to start testing the durability of hotel room furnishings . . .)
* * * * * * * * * *
Hakkai looked over at Gojyo when Goku was safely out of the way and asked, "So, did you save a few of those Polaroids?"
"But of course," Gojyo said with smirk. He whipped out a bunch of photos and handed them to Hakkai. "Can't let those women have all the fun . . ."
"Oh, I like this one . . ."
"Yeah--he's so cute when he's blushing like that. That one's my favourite."
"Maa, maa, what an interesting position . . ."
"You've got to turn it sixty degrees to the right first . . ."
"Ah . . ."
"Wanna try recreating that scene again?"
"Oh, with the apron? Or perhaps the nurse uniform I persuaded Nurse Hannah to give me?"
"Hakkai, you're evil . . ."
* * * * * * * * * *
Gary the paper deliveryman pushed his bike over yet another sand dune. He was seriously considering a career re-evaluation at this point. This job sucked. Honestly, it did . . . At the end of it all, after he sent his ungrateful sprog to college and bought ski-holidays for the missus, there would be precious little left for beer on Saturdays and his retirement nest egg . . .
He was interrupted from his bout of self-pity when he saw the shadows on the sand.
Ah, there they were. Regular as clockwork.
Gary got up and waved his cap to attract the attention of the flyers overhead.
"Here y'go." Gary handed over another member's issue of The Violent Violet-Eyed Bishounen Society Monthly along with The Demonic Daily to Kougaji when the flying dragons had landed.
"Thanks," said the youkai prince. "It's a lot less boring on these long flights when one has something to read. Hmm--Aya's written something about his sword forms again. That guy and his sword fetish . . . But it's better than that thing he's got for his sister," he commented to Dokugakji--who was more interested in the centrefold. " Oh, by the way--Gary, right? Did those other guys pass by this way?"
"Yep. You're headed in the right direction. Just avoid that city up ahead."
"Here's something for your trouble," Kougaji said, flipping him a large coin.
"Thanks a lot, guv!"
"See you then, Gary."
"Ta, your Princeship!" Now that was *real* class. A customer who tipped (generously) and actually remembered names was rare . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile, in the capital of Onnaland . . .
The Polaroids had been nice and all, but they needed something new. So the Empress had hired some artists to do original pictures involving new and more, um, varied scenarios.
The artists dribbled for a while over the Polaroids, then dashed off a number of highly sought after posters once the nosebleeds subsided. Then one of them thought about making up little stories in comic form. Those were an instant hit and the demand skyrocketed. Due to the royally appointed deadlines (that were, in fact, a life and death sort of matter), the artists had to do everything in ink to save time on colouring.
The Empress had dibs on the first editions of each print run, of course.
"Commission those artists to do more of them. And publish them locally," she said to the Grand Vizier during a trade and economics meeting. (Trade and economics had never been so interesting before . . .) "No doubt it would benefit the printing industry immensely and it wouldn't do to keep all of these um . . . interesting pictures to ourselves."
"At once, Your Majesty. You are wise and generous."
They went back to reading--um, ogling--for a while.
"Vizier?"
The leather-clad woman tore her gaze forcibly away from a particularly . . . um, *interesting* scenario involving handcuffs and a, uh, battery-powered toy. "Majesty?"
"I do not get this particular panel. The position is very . . . um . . ."
"Majesty, try turning it eighty degrees to the left," the Grand Vizier said, daintily mopping at her lip with a leatherette hanky.
The Empress did so and after a moment or two, she said, "Ahh, I see . . ." A thoughtful pause ensued. "Is that really anatomically possibly?"
"Who knows? They're young--they might bend really well."
They went back to their thoughtful perusal of the inspired works of the now royally commissioned doujinshi artists. After all, it could become a highly viable source of national income . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
In the end . . .
Gojyo and Hakkai broke the bed in their room again, much to Sanzo's annoyance.
The Sanzo-ikkou were banned from the city by the Health Authorities who declared them a health hazard. The city's blood banks were running low in the week that followed the Sanzo-ikkou's visit.
Nurse Hannah set out to make use for the genetic material she had collected and was named Director of the new Royal Cloning Facility. As the world has not ended yet, it can safely concluded that they never managed to come up with exact duplicates of the Sanzo-ikkou. However, it does provide a plot-hole from which all clones of the Sanzo-ikkou can hop out from.
Sanzo's article was published in the May issue of The Violent Violet-Eyed Bishounen Society Monthly, sparking off a great deal of debate amongst readers. However, it is doubtful that any semes took it seriously.
Goku still does not know if food is better than sex.
Jiipu is still the cutest.
Gary the paper deliveryman still continues to supply the Sanzo-ikkou with newspapers (as well as Hakkai's monthly subscription of You & Your Dragon) and Sanzo (aka "that stingy bastard") still does not tip.
The journey goes on . . .
* * * * * * * * * *
Credits:
Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) is by ABBA. More specifically, the lyrics were by B. Andersson and B. Ulvæus--you know, the two guys in ABBA.
The "Sith Lords Kick Ass" t-shirt is from the Sith Academy--. (It kicks ass.)
Terry Pratchett references from "Sourcery" by Terry Pratchett.
Note-type thingies:
Again, it's not a really original idea to begin with. To spread the blame around:
1) In Wu Cheng'en's "Xi You Ji"/"Journey to the West", after the whole Motherhood River fiasco in Chapter Fifty-Three, the pilgrims enter the capital of the Womanland of Western Liang in the next chapter. There are *no* men at all (so the predictable happens when our intrepid male travellers show up) and the queen becomes smitten with the Sanzo/Sanzang character (due to the fact that he was the adopted brother of the Tang Emperor and not too bad looking according to the novel despite the fact that he was forty-ish or fifty-ish). A royal wedding is prepared in order to pacify the queen and get the other three out with the passport. The priest eventually gets rescued from royal matrimony with his "pure masculinity" intact. *tries very hard not to laugh*
2) Saiyuki and associated bishounen belong to Kazuya Minekura, respective publishers and whatnot. As do their unbuttoned jeans and enviable waist measurements, damn it all.
* * * * * * * * * *