One-shot most likely, just a little blerb to Grey Ayres’ Ayrespin remix from Anime Boston 2005 given to me by a good friend Sanzo-sama, though she’d laugh herself dead if she read this. ^.~
Another day, another set of road blocks in the never-ending journey to the west. It was never-ending, absolutely had to be. They’d never catch the sun, not again at least. Not in this lifetime.
That’s how it all went down in the end. The sun set to jeep’s screams as the gas was pushed too hard and the little dragon’s metal frame met with the east wall of the castle. It didn’t last long. At least, not in the grand expanse of time. To them, it was eternity.
Bang. Bang. Bang! They weren’t angry shots, just things that had to be done, had to be stopped in someone’s flesh.
Slink-thunk. Slink-thunk. Slink-thunk! They hit home, after all. Metal gliding through flesh and bone, halting somewhere inside before the spell expanded, ripping through organs and flesh and liquid to expel the demon.
They came in not as friends, not as mutual rivals or playful sparring opponents. This time it was serious. The tears of two brothers separated by fate didn’t stop the bullets or the fiends. The pleas of a small child couldn’t save her brother. The protests of a healer couldn’t stop the gun from firing on the last faithful servant before the explosives could be fired off.
It was only after they were all bathing in the blood of fallen not-enemies that their goal was in sight. The bitch and her lover. The world seemed to have already collapsed; it was just easier to kill now. Perhaps it was the last breath of the minus wave before it vanished that brought the ultimate end to them.
The world was oh so bright as their sun shown through the darkness, destroying it all, before all was plunged into a different kind of darkness. The hunk of metal forged by Smith & Wesson went silent for the last time. The inner chamber was the grave and marker for three when it came tumbling in on itself. The final resting place of their sun was in the west.
It seemed unfit to cry tears. It seemed unkind to mark the grave. So they rolled the sutras and packed them into the glove compartment of the jeep. And the three of them settled in and headed west, leaving his seat empty in remembrance. And they drove westward, forever more, chasing the sun’s rays as it disappeared, always over the horizon.