A/N: A few quick warnings. This fic contains wild speculation about certain events in the original series, specifically the 'Be There' story arc--inspired by a rather intriguing coincidence. It also contains spoilers for the 'Burial' story arc and Ukoku's other identity, and if you don't know (or want to know) what that means, the back button on your browser should be clicked with all due haste. Rated for language and a bit of gore. For anyone still reading, I hope you enjoy the fic.
Weeping Crow
A Saiyuki fic
by Veszelyite
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DISCLAIMER: Ukoku and the nameless youkai aren't mine. While it's something of a relief to know that they aren't the disturbed products of my own psyche, the use of these characters in a piece of fanfiction is probably a statement of its own.
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A noted psychologist had once observed that there were four general stages of grief.
Stage one was numbness or protest, usually characterized by a withdrawal from surroundings or psychological and physiological distress. Stage two was yearning or searching, often characterized by pining and a preoccupation with anything related to the deceased. Stage three was disorganization and despair, in which the loss was consciously recognized and mourning truly took place. And finally came stage four, reorganization, where the griever moved forward and started to get on with their life. Of course, there were always cases where people never got that far. A select few somehow couldn't ever recover from that blow…from the death of someone they had loved.
It hadn't been difficult for Ukoku to track down the sole survivor of the attack on the Dark Crow clan. Anger and loss made for quite predictable patterns. From his discrete inquiries, he estimated the young youkai had spent nearly a week in stage one of that tired old script while he struggled with the loss of his recently slain family members, brooding on his sorry fate and railing against the overwhelming unfairness of life.
Stage two was a bit more interesting, because the deaths in question had been murders. It resulted in patterns of searching that became the bloody-minded quest for vengeance. This youkai had spent nearly three weeks in that state. He had been ultimately unsuccessful, of course, since he had no way to know that the object of his vengeance was hidden away in a house in the woods, with no contact to the outside world save one…and for some strange reason, it seemed that contact wasn't talking. That left stage three, which is where Ukoku found him now. Devastated by his failure, the young youkai sought to drown his sorrows before the pain of despair could become overwhelming. Pathetic, really. At the same time, it was rather fortunate for Ukoku. This backwater town only had one bar, and that made him ridiculously easy to find.
The youkai never even glanced up from his nearly-empty glass as Ukoku settled onto the seat beside him at the bar, laying his small traveling bag on the floor. Ukoku wore ordinary street clothes at the moment. He had been doing a lot of traveling, and going incognito was the best way to avoid notice or questions. The bartender looked over expectantly, but Ukoku only held up a hand as if requesting time to consider what to order. In truth, he didn't plan on having a drink here at all. He wouldn't be staying that long. The bartender gave a slight nod to acknowledge the gesture, and moved away to tend other customers.
The Crow youkai was oblivious to the whole exchange, sunk deep in the cruel dark pit of his depression and self-pity. This might take a bit of prodding…but then, Ukoku had just the thing. He reached into the pack at his feet. It did not contain much—just some personal effects, a rumpled white lab coat, and the folded robes of a Sanzo priest lying on top of a carefully rolled scripture. Ukoku had not worn either of the latter two items in years. It would look strange, after all, to wear monk's robes when traveling, or when assuming his other persona, as a man of science rather than faith.
Out of the bag came a plain glass jar, filled with clear preservative fluid. Floating inside were two eyeballs that had been ripped from their sockets, perfectly intact. Quite a feat of skill, that. Pale pink tissue and the white threads of optic nerve trailed like the tails of small comets, the only sign that the eyes had once been attached to something living. Blithely undisturbed by the jar's gristly contents, Ukoku set it down on top of the bar, right next to the Crow youkai's glass. The other's gaze shifted, blinked, and then widened as the youkai stared at the jar, transfixed by its contents. Then he slowly lifted eyes that were the exact same shade as the ones in the jar to stare at Ukoku, incredulous. "This is…?"
"I understand you lost your brother," Ukoku said smoothly, pointedly not looking in his direction. He gave the words a moment to sink in. "…All the rest of your family as well."
The Crow youkai's gaze went back to the jar. A clawed hand tremblingly reached out, hovering helplessly over the lid. His other hand went up, pressed to his mouth. After a minute, a drop of blood fell to the bar as he bit down on his own flesh. Unfortunately, physical pain was no salve for emotional torment, and this was no dream that he could escape simply by waking himself up.
Ukoku waited until the youkai gave a thin, stifled noise before he allowed himself to glance over again. Now the flickering of the lamplight picked out the subtle tracks of tears on the surface of the young demon's face. Unexpectedly, the sight gave him pause.
A weeping crow. How very…ironic.
The thought was quickly pushed aside. This kid had slipped so easily right back into distress, stage one of his grief. It was a good sign—from here it would take only a slight nudge to reawaken the murderous hatred of stage two.
"There's a rumor," Ukoku said, as if it were an item of only passing interest, "That the person responsible for that horrible crime has been staying at a place not too far from here."
The kid's face twisted. He couldn't have been more than, what…eighteen or nineteen? Perfect. His youkai talons turned inwards as his hands curled into tightly clenched fists. Yes, the hatred had reappeared in full-force, backed by a deep, mindless rage. "That bastard, Cho Gonou," the Crow demon spat. "I swear I'll kill him myself. Where is he?"
Ah. Again, not difficult to predict. A criminal, flushed from hiding, would return to the scene of his crime. The blond haired priest sent to dog his footsteps was sure to follow. "Hard to tell, exactly, but I think he'll be on the move soon. If I were you, I'd wait for him by the castle."
That earned him a startled glance. "Hyakugan Mao's castle? Why the hell would Cho Gonou go back there?"
It wasn't a question worth answering. If the kid didn't already know, he wouldn't possibly understand the motive. It involved the stages of grief again, after all. "You might not want to wait at Hyakugan Mao's castle. The best place would probably be on the road, a bit farther East."
The youkai's expression turned puzzled. Ukoku clarified in an offhand tone, as if it really was of no concern of his, "The castle burned down last night, I'm afraid. Nothing but ash and cinders left of it now."
A smarter individual might have questioned that bland statement. Might have asked how he knew, or where the jar had come from in the first place. But this kid was no rocket scientist. He was too lost in the return of his own hatred to even notice the pieces of the puzzle dancing right in front of his face.
"I'm going," the youkai said, determination clear in his voice as he stood up from the bar. His mouth was set in a grim line as he made a visible effort to still trembling hands before laying claim to the jar that contained his brother's eyes. Ukoku knew that he wouldn't see him again. In this eat-or-be-eaten world, this kid's corpse would be a scant mouthful serving to keep somebody else alive. That was just the way things worked.
Ukoku thought the kid would walk out then, but instead he paused and turned to regard the dark-haired human who had given him the information he needed to exact revenge without asking anything in return. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. It was the first sensible thought to come out of his mouth since this conversation had started.
Memory, then.
"Koumyou."
"Yes?"
"Say you're the moon. And I'm the night, right? Which one of us gets swallowed by the other?"
The Crow youkai was watching him closely. Giving no sign of his internal thoughts, Ukoku only feigned surprise. "Me?" He smiled then, shrugging his shoulders.
"I guess I'm just that kind of guy."
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Ukoku waited until the kid had left before walking out of the bar on his own. It was night outside. The full moon was waning. Elsewhere, a blond haired monk and his rather exceptional ward were traveling, following up on some rumors concerning a badly injured man with green eyes. Elsewhere, two men who weren't quite human and also weren't quite youkai were playing cards, forging a bond of something like friendship while they carefully avoided talking about the past.
At long last, things were finally starting to move.
Perhaps we should make a bet, Ukoku.
Ukoku took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. The smoke from the glowing end drifted, hanging translucent and ephemeral for a moment before being consumed by the breezes of the night. The street was empty, in the light of the moon. Dawn was many hours away. Elsewhere, the blond haired boy that had been chosen as Koumyou Sanzo's successor still had yet to come into his own.
"Yes. That's why, isn't it, Koumyou," Ukoku murmured into the emptiness.
"We're all just waiting to see what happens with the next rising sun."
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A/N: The stages of grief are based on the work of John Bowlby who wrote a series of books from 1960-1980 on the topics of attachment and loss. Also, it didn't make it into Tokyopop's official English manga translation, but the name given to Ukoku by Koumyou Sanzo means "weeping crow"--hence the topic and title of this fic. -V.