A Different Kind of Nirvana
Written by HeartoftheFlames
Gojyo
What draws me to you so?
A body huddled in dirt and debris, rain pouring over the rugged cloak. You are hunched on your side in silent pain, always a silent pain. On first glance you carry nothing. Oh, how wrong I was.
Just as I kneel to touch your shoulder you twitch and jerk away, swinging an arm out from beneath the cloak to force the barrel of a gun to my forehead.
"Get the fuck away."
I smile and you frown deeper.
"Come now," I chide, "doesn't have to be this way. Was only tryin' to help ya."
You narrow your eyes; I know you see me taking in what little of your naked body is visible beneath the garment now. Everything about you is rake-thin, flat, angular. A drop of water beads down your chest, slips along the gentle curve of your stomach, toward-
"Tch. You expect me to believe that?"
I look up and pretend to think – hear you finger the trigger – before meeting your eyes with another smile, "Yup. S'pose so."
You snarl, and that was when I still thought it was cute. When I still missed it.
"This is all… your fault."
You collapse, skin brazenly pale against the darkened Earth, and I run a hand deftly across your forehead.
I had to be certain, though your very presence was enough convincing for me, of the mark divining you as the notorious priest Sanzo.
I swallow hard and snatch your gun up, aim it back at you for once. It would be a lie to say that thought hadn't crossed my mind.
What good can come from a dead man walking?
But you looked so soft, so alone, so very, very fragile.
Your death should not be at the hands of a coward. So I pocket the gun. Kneel again and brush a hand across your face before replacing the hood.
"I know."
The evening rain brought in heavy clouds but the moon still sketched her inky lines across ribbons of pale and lightly freckled flesh. Your body is laid out bare on the bed, half-covered in sheets you had foolishly tried to kick away.
Gonou didn't want to believe it. I could tell from the way he refused to fully enter the bedroom. The way his body went stiff as his breath held, golden eye focused on your face.
I look – I see the moons light licking your lips and the sweat dancing down your golden brow.
"When-" he chokes out quietly, his voice an ever-soft hum beneath the clap of rain on the roof.
"Few days 'go," I hum back in the same pitch, though my voice is never that sweet – albeit, deceptive – melody of his. It grates and catches in my throat, reverberates there like I don't want to let it go.
He grunts a delicate Hn. in response, walking as though in a trance towards your motionless body. The way you are sprawled there, the sheets precariously covering your waist and tangling between your legs. Your arms spread to either side of you. Your eyes soft but your mouth curved into a constant subdued pain.
No doubt it reminded him of then.
"Shikigami?"
His voice is so low that the rustle of his clothing sounds overbearing. He leans in close to you, places hands – delicately shaking – across your chest. I wait to see the familiar glow of his chi, the only way we can know with certainty that it is you.
But he waits. Hands hovering, dark hair hiding his face from me, unaware his reflection reveals it. The wistful way his eyes trace the lines of your face, the subtle flutter of his fingers as he deepens the look.
"No."
That one word seemed to resound through the room for an eternity of its own.
The doubt and the hint of fear in his voice, both something that I had long since heard from him, struck me. Shook me.
But that all disappeared in the next instant when he said, "don't tell Goku."
There's a bite to his words and a promised hostility in the sharp turn of his head.
"You don't think the brat deserves to know?"
A raise both brows and grin, but Gonou knows that's a yes, I understand in Gojyo speak.
"Please give me a moment alone. I need to focus so that I might heal him."
It's an odd request, but I see the way he sits with his back as straight as a board and the strained clenching of his jaw. I know the real request is: please leave so I can have some human emotions without your judgment, he doesn't realize that he is far more human than he thinks – terrible at hiding them.
Gonou
I don't want you to see me like this. It was only a handful of times before, when I would let you see. Times of great peril that required me to step in, and even then I was as careful as possible – ever wary of the minus waves effect.
Now? Now is different.
It's a reminder of our defeat. Our loss. It's a sign of my failure.
The face that I have lived with for the past three years is one which screams of another person I could not protect.
It speaks of you.
My hands feel numb and I feel the tickle of panic pinching my insides, all the way up my spine. I will my chi to begin to flow, and stop a moment later as I feel it overwhelm your weakened body. Pull back, and let it ebb slower, at a pace your body picks up and synchronizes with. Given a minute or two, even our breath has matched up, like a gentle sigh or whisper for only me to hear.
You shift and squirm as my energy fills you up, caressing the core of your being.
There is a specific feeling – a surge of feeling – that identifies a person. I like to think it's their soul. Soul or not, it feels like it has been a lifetime since I've felt yours. No matter how weak your body seemed I knew the better.
Beneath, you are always surging with such vibrancy and unbridled passion. A ferocity that announces to the world through embittered and taunting yell I'm still alive!
And you are.
And you are.
"H-Hakkai-" the scratchy dry of your throat coats the word at first, makes me think it a hushed moan. Then the light catches deep purple irises – eyes half-lidded, sweat lingering on pale lashes.
I have not gone by that name since that day, but when you say it, it feels right again.
"I'm here." And the words bite; that I speak with you again at all hurts me. I am not worthy of facing the man I failed.
You try to sit up, but I feel you dip, watch as you sway back and land with the thud of your head on the pillow. Feel your energy fade and then surge again as you make another attempt.
Then you shocked me from my zealous but restrained concern.
"How-" your ravaged voice groans and I lean in closer until I can feel your lashes quiver against my cheek.
"Yes?"
"How are you still alive."