The rain had fallen heavily during the night, and the young blonde priest had grumbled and muttered every step that is took to reach the top of the mountain. He had been hearing that voice again. It was annoying. Annoying and LOUD. He knew where it came from – that strange, forbidden mountain – the one no one would travel near... the cursed one.

Genjyo Sanzo, the 31st of China was NOT afraid of some stupid old curse. He was going to find the owner of that damn voice, and when he did – he would tell them to shut the hell up! Thoughts swirling, the young man almost missed the small whimper from the bushes near the edge of the road.

Pulling out his shiny new weapon – a gun capable of banishing evil, he made his way towards the pitiful sounds, years of training telling him to keep his guard up no matter what. Reaching out a steady hand, he placed in on a leafy branch and swiftly pulled it aside, gun aimed.

Genjyo's violet eyes nearly popped at the painful sight before him. There, in a ditch, in the bushes, off the edge of a path up the side of a cursed mountain lay the most pitiful, bruised angel he had ever seen. Blood matted her hair, and her small pointed chin was curled in protectively against her chest, her left shoulder dislocated by the obvious bend in the joint and her leg visibly broken. She was soaked and shivering, her breathing short and weak. The few scraps of clothing that still covered her slim body were stained brown from her blood and the nights' rain, mixing the dirt into a foul smelling black mud.

Sanzo quickly put his gun away, his medical training from his great master instantly kicking in. He had not yet learned to harden his heart fully, and was sure this fallen angel was not going to survive without his immediate and specific help. Speaking soft words of aid, he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. She let out a soft scream, and flailed weakly, eyes still tightly shut, before collapsing into the black mud, all energy finally leaving her.

Grasping her wrist, Sanzo felt for her pulse, and found it fading... fast. His own heartbeat increased, and he knelt into the sludge, grasping her gently, and lifting her into his strong arms. He was surprised at how light she was – she was obviously malnourished. Mud covered his pristine white robes as he gathered her closer and turned down the mountain path, jogging when he could.

It took his another hour to make it to the bottom of the path, and he quickly yelled for aid, receiving it almost instantly, such was his status. Strong hands gently lifted the body from his arms, while others tugged at him insistently, advising him to change his robes, as it was not befitting of a Sanzo to be seen in such filthy attire. Sanzo growled at them, forcing them back as his violet eyes flashed in anger.

He stalked off after the group that held the broken angel, following them doggedly to a nearby medical house. Watching as they relocated her shoulder and set her leg, Sanzo felt a stab of fear – what if someone from this village was the one who did this to her? Were they here now? Watching in some kind of sadistic joy as the poor girl had her already torn clothes removed from her body, revealing the creamy flesh beneath?

Sanzo blushed when he realized he was staring straight at her naked back. His face flushed red in embarrassment and he swiftly turned away, giving her some measure of privacy, while still refusing to leave the room. He heard the women who were taking care of her, turn her over to check the shoulder joint. He heard them gasp, and moan softly while the few men allowed in growled in anger. Sanzo's curiosity overtook his embarrassment, and he turned, looking for the cause of the upset.

There was a long, ragged gash starting at her collar bone and running all the way down, between her breasts, finishing at her navel. It was still bleeding slightly, but seemed to have started to heal over… just how long had that girl been out there? Sanzo felt his blood boil at the sight of her fragile, broken frame. How could anyone have done this? She couldn't be any older than he, and she was just left on the side of the road, like so much trash.

The mantra on his shoulders twitched, bringing his thoughts back to earth. He calmed himself, and made his way towards her, pushing past the concerned townsfolk with a confidence and an authority that far surpassed his years. Grabbing a bowl of water steeped with antiseptic herbs, he placed his hands on it and concentrated. The water glowed slightly, the townsfolk gasping at the display of heavenly power. Placing the glowing water in the hands of one of the wide eyed women, he turned and left the room abruptly.

"Use that to clean her wounds." He called over his shoulder, his mind already fuzzy from the use of his spiritual powers, "And make sure to bandage her tightly – I will be taking her with me to the Temple of the Rising Sun in the morning.

Jivra awoke to soft cottons, gentle voices and familiar scents. Her chest ached painfully, and there was a dull throbbing in her thigh. Her reality came crashing back to her when she realised exactly what was going on… she was ALIVE! Opening her eyes slowly, she turned her head to get a bearing on her surroundings. Wooden walls. No windows. One door. Wood panel floor and roof. A bedside table. And a chair with a sleeping boy.

Jivra stared at the young man. He didn't SEEM like a demon – but then, she had been fooled before. In fact, he seemed to be wearing the robes of a priest – but that couldn't be – he looked no older than herself! Was he her jailor? Here to keep her from escaping? She suddenly felt great pressure in her pelvis and a low groan escaped her lips before she could stop it. Kami! She needed to pee!

Her limbs felt heavy and unused, and her breathing felt slightly restricted. Looking down she was surprised to find she was tightly bandaged, the cloth clean and pristine white. Obviously her wound had stopped bleeding – which mean she must have been here for quite some time. Clearing her throat several times, she was finally able to croak out a small sound.

"H…lo?" She rasped, trying to get the young mans attention. She concluded that even if he was the enemy, he couldn't do much worse to her than what had already been done – after all… she had accepted death that day on the mountain path, and it still had not visited. She tried again, a little louder,

"Hello!" She called, her voice breaking and going about two decibels higher than she meant it. The dozing young man woke with a start, blonde locks flipping away from his face as he lifted his head and pinned her with an indigo gaze. Jivra felt her breath catch in her throat at his beauty. He had the most incredible eyes…

"So you're awake." He said gruffly, his child's voice not quite having disappeared, making him sound not quite like an adult, but deep enough to make him pass as one. His deep violet irises seemed to stare straight through her, making her feel naked and vulnerable. She blushed, realising that she WAS naked and vulnerable!

"Yes." She replied softly, unable to think of a suitable answer to such a blunt statement. Her bodily needs caused her to shift herself and push up on her elbows, trying to sit. The blonde immediately started, jumping to his feet, and staring at her with a look that was … angry?

"You can't move yet. You're not healed!" He said, his voice betraying none of the anxiety his body was saying to her. She felt a spark of resentment at that statement. "Look, boy." She retorted sarcastically, accentuating the word to make him understand she was not afraid of him, "Unless you want me to piddle on the floor like an untrained puppy, I suggest you help me to the bathroom." She raised an eyebrow, offering no room for compromise.

The young man's eyes widened, then squinted, obviously pissed at her fighting spirit. She snorted, not intimidated at all, and continued to try swinging her legs off the bed. The blonde rushed forward, muttering about women who thought too highly of themselves, and began to help her up. Placing one hand under her arm and around her back, her hooked her legs up in the other, and lifted her without a word. Jivra squeaked slightly at being so effortlessly lifted into his arms, and the young man smirked at her, as if to say, 'BOY, huh?' She glowered at him, as though saying, 'yes, BOY.'

Their silent conversation continued to the bathroom, were the young woman let her frustrations with the young man push her through the door under her own power, finish her business, then stagger out again. The blonde was there, picking her up before she said anything, and placing her back onto the bed, more gently than she thought he would. He turned suddenly, heading for the door. Jivra was shocked, was he just going to leave her here? Knowing she couldn't move? That bastard!

"Hey!" She yelled, anger fuelling her voice, "what are you gonna do with me, huh? And who the heck are you anyway?" She saw his back stiffen, and suddenly thought maybe she had gone too far.

"I should be asking you the same question, girl." His voice travelled over his shoulder, as he turned, once again levelling her with that steely, indigo gaze. She felt her throat constrict, and a light sweat covered her skin – maybe he really WAS a bad guy? Should she even tell him her name? But he seemed so kind for all his rough words…

"Jivra. My name is Jivra." She said in a small voice, bowing her head at her own defeat. Goddamn it! No man had frustrated her, or tore at her pride the way this guy had... just who the heck was he?

"I am Genjyo Sanzo, the 31st of China," he said equally soft, his voice holding a bitter edge to it, as though his name was painful to hear. "And we are leaving for the temple of Chang'an in one hour."

TO BE CONTINUED…