Semiotic
Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki.
Author's Notes: Inspired purely by the 2nd and 3rd mangas of Reload – the palindrome of Ukoku's name and Sanzo's lighter. Kazuya Minekura really messed with the timeline in the 3rd manga… in the Rikuo arc, Sanzo leaves Kinzan Temple ten years earlier, and then in the Burial arc, he leaves the temple ELEVEN years earlier. For simplicity's sake, I think I'm going to stick with the 10-year theory, which would make Sanzo 13 when he left, and around 17 when he found Goku. Ukoku's age is also mightily messed; in the Kami-sama arc, it's revealed that Sanzo met Kami-sama ten years earlier, which would make him 13. However, at that time, Ukoku is said to be only 23, which means he is only ten years older than Sanzo. In the 3rd Reload, in the very first flashback chapter, it's revealed that Ukoku is 17 when he becomes a Sanzo, and that our Sanzo is only four… which means there's THIRTEEN years between them. : sweatdrop: I have no idea what Minekura-sempai's doing, but it's honestly hurting my head. I'm saying thirteen years, because that makes Koumyou less of a pedophile.
Terrible spoilers for the 3rd Reload, and likely AU after the 4th Reload is released. And from this interesting fact site I found, apparently Sanzo's lighter is mostly plastic. Hmm.
"Master, why did you become a priest?"
The half moon shone through its craters and the night was full of holes. He thought the sound of the sake being poured sounded oddly like the river to his ears, but never told his disciple that.
The smoke rose from his lips in wisps of grey and he was absurdly amused by the question. "To cut my expenses. This way, I can save all my money for booze and cigarettes."
The boy gave him a stern look. "Master…"
"Kouryuu, do you believe that there are some things in life that defy decision?"
The violet eyes shone hard in concentration. "I suppose. But to have something decided for you means that you're weak."
"I'm a priest; you were in the river."
"I—"
Left speechless, he handed the full cup to his master. "Yes. It's late."
"So it is. Goodnight, Kouryuu."
The crickets kept him company until his guest arrived.
-----
He appeared, as always, with the hiding of the moon. For a time there was nothing to say but to alternate between liquid burn and soothing smoke.
"You know, Koumyou…"
The trees shivered wildly. He let out another puff and watched it form a perfect circle, playing with the words in his head.
"Yes?"
"I've told you my reasons, but you've never told me yours."
"Hmm? What reasons would those be?" A negligent smile worms its way across the charmed face.
"Why are you a priest, exactly?"
He almost thought he wouldn't get an answer. "Why did you take a disciple?"
Ukoku laughs heartily, letting the cigarette butt fall from his limp fingers. "No fair, old man."
Each leg was beside the other's – one, two, one, two – like the intertwined fingers of friendly hands. Koumyou's face feigned ignorance as he let the alcohol wash down his throat.
"You've lost me."
His laughter morphs into a knowing smile. "Forget it."
-----
It wasn't until days later that he noticed the lighter tucked neatly in the folds of his robe.
"Heeey, what's that?" The monkey thing that had forced itself on him exclaimed excitedly, jumping to peer over his shoulder at the bit of rounded smoothness in his hand. It was the first time he'd been surprised in months.
"Hn." His hand reached inside his robes and pulled out his Marlboros, the packet crumbling and faded. The lone cylinder rolled noisily inside.
He had been saving it; there hadn't been time to restock, and there were no villages this far up the mountain. With practised ease his thumb flicked the notched wheel; put the two pieces together and inhaled deeply.
"Saaanzo! Sanzo, what're you doin'?" Coming from half a brain, the title didn't sound like such a burden. He punched the brown mop hard and closed his eyes to savour the taste; released his thumb.
An orange afterglow greeted their skin. He didn't want to consider where it had come from.
-----
As the fuel of the fire crackles and curls, their meal is charred to an indiscernible black. They gut them in one swift stroke; the two sides falling in perfect mimicry. The potatoes have become a lifeline between them, so much so that Koumyou is surprised if Ukoku doesn't arrive on the first day of autumn.
With practiced delicacy he peels the skin.
"You know, there's something I've been wondering." He cocks his head sideways, dark hair mingling with shadows. His companion doesn't answer but shows his attentiveness. "Why 'Ukoku'?"
"So full of questions," he grumbled; took another bite and sighed. "It seemed fitting."
His curiosity burns. "Oh? And why's that?"
"I thought you might've guessed," Koumyou says casually, flicking some potato caught underneath his fingernail.
The younger frowns. "Your age has done nothing to enhance your charm."
He pouts slightly. "Why Ukoku? No matter which way you look at it, it's still the same."
Ukoku stares at him for a moment before reaching for an empty cup; the bottle is empty. "Well, damn."
His laughter echoes as the flames dance on happily.
-----
"Kanzeon Bosatsu!"
She looks from the chess game to the disgruntled messenger, uninterested. "What's all the ruckus?"
"Kanzeon Bosatsu, Son Goku has been released from his cell."
Jiro Shin's face has curdled like sour milk but the Goddess of Love and Mercy seems amused. "Is that right? Well, well."
The messenger is affronted. "My lady, the monkey king is not scheduled to be released until—"
"I'm fully aware of the details, thank you." Contemplating, she moves one of the game pieces but keeps her hand on it still. "Tell me, who had the power to free him?"
"Uh… Genjyo Sanzo, ma'am." Upon receiving a blank look, he elaborates. "The new 31st…"
The explanation brings a smile. "So be it."
"But Goddess, he is meant to be imprisoned—"
"—until Nataku wakes, I understand." She lifts her hand, completing the play. "But the boy who was thrown into a river was meant to die."
"My lady?"
"Mortals can be like that," she warns cheerily. "Now leave us."
The messenger bows and departs, his footsteps leaving a trail of cloud-smoke.
"Master Bosatsu…?" Jiro Shin began hesitantly. He understood her less than usual today. She leans back in her chair, a masked emotion flicking across her eyes.
"It wasn't Koumyou," she says by way of explanation. "It's Kouryuu."
-----
In the confines of his room, Ni Jianyi lights a cigarette and watches the ashes fall. In one hand is his latest experiment, an effervescent tube of disastrous promise; in the other is simply a scroll, ink and paper of disastrous importance. He flips the Seiten Sutra as a child flips a baton. In the glow of his science he has invisible companions.
"I tried to warn you, Koumyou." His tone is apologetic. "Every now and then the night can swallow up the light of the moon."
The tube lashes out violently with its rays, threatening to burn his hand. The scientist laughs.
"Seiten… bring forth the light, right? I really thought you had me." He waits for an answer that never arrives. "But you left me a bone."
"Look at that." It's the last time they'll ever sip sake together under the light of darkness.
"Hmm?"
"Those fireflies… they're flying after the moon."
The other listens and never replies. "Persimmon?"
"Please."
The silence is tinged a different hue that night. Neither of them takes stock in prophecies.
"You'll never take the whole of it, will you?" Koumyou questions, but already knows the answer.
A mischievous smile is on his face like the first time they met. "I'm rather certain I don't know what you're talking about."
"You won't take the mark."
"You won't turn me in."
"Ah yes."
This time the sake sounds rather like a waterfall. Their lips meet in a tangle of flavours, sweet delusion and bitter simplicity. If the night air feels cold on his skin, he doesn't complain. In the morning he will pay for his moment of youthfulness with a fever and a cough, but everything he devours afterward will forever taste like persimmon smoke.
In the aftermath of the moment, he toasts their gamble.
"Cheers, Ken'yuu."
There is a startled silence from beside him. "… You haven't called me that in a long time. You're not saying goodbye, are you?"
He runs his fingers through dark hair and the impossibility of truth, thinking of a bundle floating down the river.
"Isn't that the theme for tonight?"
In the chaos that reigned on the night Koumyou Sanzo was murdered, the priests were oblivious to the lunar eclipse that wreathed the sky.
"The rest is up to you, Genjyo Sanzo."
-----
He didn't like to think about that time up in the mountains, when the fire had died out and nothing was left save his smoke. The monkey probably did have half a brain, unable to comprehend the concept of silence.
"Shut up, kid."
"I told you, my name's Gok—"
"Shut up, Goku."
It was only a momentary lapse, a red rotten apple. "What's it like?"
"What's what like?"
"Smokin'!"
He shrugged and didn't bother to reply.
"Tell me!"
"If you're so damn interested, go buy your own cigarettes."
"But…" he looked around the forest, confused. "But where?"
"Nowhere nearby." He threw what was left of it to the ground, and grinded it with his foot.
"Hey! I wanted a taste of that!"
"Too bad."
"What!"
Unwilling to be denied, Goku retaliated by grabbing a fistful of shaggy blond hair. He yanked hard, bringing his desired target closer to his height level. His lips were small and clumsy, trying to taste as much as possible – to taste without missing anything. The forceful part of Sanzo leaned his weight forward; shoved his tongue into a suddenly shy mouth. His breathing was ragged as he pulled away. He wiped the back of his hand harshly over the moisture on his lips, tearing the delicate skin.
Golden eyes regarded him strangely. "It tasted bitter," he said, making a face. "Don't know why you like the stuff."
In a moment of absurdity, he wanted to do it again; wanted to force the truth of his being onto this naïve nuisance that couldn't grasp what it was he was after, wanted to crush the hopeful happiness that came with ignorance. But he pushed the thought aside and continued walking.
Most days he was satisfied. Others made him question his own sanity.
-----
He never did like the sly heretical Sanzo, the dark-haired man they named Ukoku. Sweeping the temple steps as per duty, there was no way for him to avoid the man as he left, nowhere to hide only for a moment.
He stopped a few steps ahead of the blond boy and stood gazing down. "We meet again, Konzen." His smile was friendly but it gave the feeling of imminent demise.
"My name's Kouryuu," he said – more defensively than he might have liked.
"That's right," the man grinned sheepishly. "My mistake."
But he got the distinct impression that it was no mistake at all; and he wanted to run and warn his master that this man was no good, that he should never be allowed back. Yet somehow he knows his words are worthless.
As if sensing his thoughts, the menacing lips smile. "Keep close what you hold dear, Kouryuu."
He watched the retreating figure as the wind blew leaves in his face; he looks back at the temple.
The image that haunts him the most is that of his master, unbound hair melting into the bloody backdrop of the morning sky.
"Once again, you've failed to die."
END