The Sequel: Prologue
(Author's Note)
DISCLAIMER: Saiyuki still does not belong to me. Apparently, stalking is frowned upon in Japanese culture…I know now that copyrights will never fall into my possession. HOWEVER, Kon, Yumoa, Lyds, Borg Bunny Bob, Higeki, and any future OCs I may create on a whim are the sole property of myself. Chitsujo is dead to me—she called me fat. Chloe and Raquel are clone-like manifestations of two girls who irritated me in high school. After this, may they never be seen again.
For lucidity's sake this fic's first chappie starts just before the party meets Hazel & Gat, and ends right after they part ways, which occurs at the end of Reload Vol. 5. It'll make more sense in a bit, but just think of it as an interlude between Vol. 5 & Vol. 6.
(Mission Statement)
"Rosencrantz: 'Well, really—I mean, people want to be entertained—they don't come expecting sordid and gratuitous filth.'
Player: 'You're wrong—they do! Murder, seduction, and incest—what do you want—jokes?'
Rosencrantz: 'I want a good story, with a beginning, middle, and end.'
Player (to Guildenstern): 'And you?'
Guildenstern: 'I'd prefer art to mirror life, if it's all the same to you.'"
—Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, by Tom Stoppard
WARNING: This was going to be rated MATURE, but then I made some irritating discoveries and realized that maybe it's okay as TEEN. (Besides, all that crap doesn't happen yet...) However, be prepared for more violence, more mature-ish-rated dialogue (i.e. swearing, questionable subject-matter, et cetera…), NO political-correctness (that crap is so gay)—and, most notably, impending citrus fruits; and I'll tell you when crap's about to get M-rated. If you have a problem with unscrupulousness, I'd rather have you quit now instead of getting pissed at me later for scarring you or getting you in trouble 'cause your parents walked in on the juicy bits…but those come later. For now, enjoy, and PLEASE pay attention when I put up a little warning. I take no responsibility if you make a bad choice based on my writing.
When in doubt, however, blame The Media.
Anomaly: The Abbreviated Reprieve
Quite possibly the lowest moment in a person's life occurs during a police interrogation for some form of bestiality involving said person and the neighbor's dog—frightfully embarrassing, I would imagine. Second-lowest is during an interrogation headed by one's significant other the morning after a wild night on the town and fifteen hookers (or man-whores, depending on one's personal preferences).
I was experiencing the third-lowest—I had no intention of aiming any higher.
My boss was shouting some gibberish about law-suits and incarceration for aggravated assault. I tuned him out whenever he started yelling like this, focusing instead on the many brutal and inhuman ways in which I could dismember a certain plague upon my life.
Yes, I was a tad embarrassed about acting like a psychotic killer in public, and yes, I was fully aware of the judicial system's various punishments for attacking a customer. This was the fifth time in three months—of course I knew! El Jefe (1) need not reiterate—Judge Simmons had done a fine job of explaining everything.
It was all his fault, anyway. I was provoked…
(One Hour Prior)
"Gawd, I'm so hungry I could eat, like, a horse or something," Raquel complained to her best friend Chloe. "I wonder what's taking the line so long."
"I know. We've been waiting for twenty minutes!" Chloe agreed, flipping her clean, perfumed blonde hair behind her shoulder.
Suddenly, angry shouting sounded at the head of the line, and the crowd rabbled and scattered, parting down the middle to display the most astonishing spectacle of wanton violence most of the yuppies had ever seen.
It appeared that a young woman of minuscule stature had leapt over the cashier's counter and speared a tall, strikingly gorgeous raven-haired young man to the floor, before proceeding to stab him repeatedly with an eating utensil.
Chloe grabbed Raquel's arm and whispered frantically, "Hey, isn't that Lydia?! From biology last year?"
"The one who came back from the dead, threatened the vice principal when he asked her why she missed six months of school, and, like, scared him so bad that he graduated her a year early?"
Chloe nodded, and pushed her sunglasses into her shoulder-length, wavy brown hair like a headband. "Yeah, the one with all the scars. I heard she used to be in that gang that got wiped out in some big gang war a few years ago."
Raquel stared as security intervened, plowing into the middle of the fight circle and apprehending the assailant. "Whoa, that's so, like, savage."
A portly, balding man in a strained, baby blue short-sleeved dress shirt and a red pin-striped tie came waddling out of the employees only door and started shouting as well, helping the overtaxed guards drag the wild girl back through the door while some good Samaritans (mostly women) went to aid the victim. The young man got to his feet, dusted himself off and ruffled the dirt out of his longish hair, and waved their anxious—as well as groping—hands away. He was sort of grimacing, as though he were in on some big joke that had finally begun to irritate him with repetition.
"No, really ladies, I'm fine. She just startled me is all," was his excuse, before begging pardon and leaving the restaurant, much to the lament of the off-put women.
"Holy shit, he was so hot! All that black leather makes him look like some kind of rock star! And such dark green eyes! That's, like, almost not human!" squealed Raquel, clinging to her friend and giggling like a hormonal schoolgirl—which, incidentally, she was.
"Wonder what he did to piss Lydia off so bad. Did you hear the rumor that she moved out of her adopted parents' house?" Chloe murmured thoughtfully.
"Huh? Really?" Juicy gossip was not to be ignored.
"Yeah, and know what else? She moved in with two guys, as in plural!" Scandalous, this was.
"O-M-G! That's so…trampy! You think she's sleeping with them?" (2)
Chloe was about to add more to the tale, but the guards had showed up again. Through the open door, the customers could hear a shrill, enraged voice demanding to know where "that ass-hat rat bastard" had gone off to.
"Okay, people, that's enough," a tall, lanky young guard with wide, disturbed eyes was saying. "Show's over. The manager offers his apologies, but they're closing early today due to employee shortage."
The customers, understandably, were not happy. "What?!" "This is an outrage!" "Let me speak to the manager!" "I'm pressing charges!" Their cries of indignation and hunger rang out, and were succinctly ignored. Sometimes, it was okay to ignore the obscenely rich.
"Aww, damn," groaned Raquel, pouting and stomping one pink pump on the vomit-green linoleum. "C'mon, Chloe, let's go find another restaurant. There's, like, ten in this mall."
"Alright."
(Present)
Old Al, the boss-man of the restaurant where I worked, walked back in with a report for me to look over after discussing the situation with mall security.
"Well, he isn't pressing charges…" he began at length, frowning in disapproval at the report.
I snorted, "Damn straight, he's not. He probably ran the moment he was free. Jackass. I'll dismember him when I get home."
He arched his brows. "Come again? You know him?"
Watch what you say! the voice in my head shouted temperamentally. Clearly, my brain did not approve of what I was doing, but I never was one to listen to REASON.
"No. I'm going to hunt him. Figure a pretty-boy like him can't be hard to miss."
My boss gave me a worried look—as though he had come to the (accurate) conclusion that hunting someone down just to kick their ass would be child's play by my seasoned standards. "Lydia…I know you're a wonderful employee, and you do all the work that everyone hates…"
I snorted, "Clean one walk-in freezer and you gain the admiration of the establishment—your standards are mundane at best, Jefe."
"Stop calling me Jefe!" He slapped the report onto the desk and folded his arms across his man-boobs. I had the vague suspicion that I was supposed to feel intimidated, but after battling the "Army of Darkness" incarnate and getting kidnapped by mutant cyborg youkai, I was not moved in the least. "I am your employer! You do as I tell you, understood?"
"Just because you're taller than I does not denote higher status in the food chain on your part." Two inches—bah! I'd grown two inches myself in the last two years. Five-six agreed with my ego.
"Lydia! That was ridiculous! You tried to disembowel that poor man with a fork!"
"Spork," I corrected evenly. "And I was in fact attempting castration, but pretty-boy's tougher than he looks."
"You're out of your mind! To hell with that! You…you're fired."
I glared up at him, and he apparently saw something not to be trifled with. "Beg pardon? I didn't quite catch that last little mumble."
He cringed, but did the brave thing and repeated himself. "I cannot justify your continued employ. I'm afraid I have to ask you to take your things and go."
I straightened my shoulders and stood abruptly. "Very well, but I suggest you sleep with the lights on from now on, Jefe."
I smirked at his terror as I left.
(Togenkyo—Guess Who?)
"Is it just me, or is it more borin' than usual?" Son Goku inquired of his fellow travelers, hunched in his seat behind Hakkai with his chin resting on his fist, pouting slightly at the afternoon sun dead ahead. He was thinking of boredom, yes, but half of his brain was concerned with food at all times, as though his hunger functions gave him reason to live. Granted, he had Sanzo, but since Sanzo fed him all the food he wanted, it was also possible that his peculiar fondness for the sour priest was born from the eternal bottomless hunger. There was no definitive answer to that particular question.
His answer was a painful punch to the top of his head, carried out by one Sha Gojyo, half-breed ladies' man extraordinaire. "Stupid monkey, you're gonna get us jinxed! It's not boring—it's quiet." He had his crimson hair up in a ponytail, and his coat loose and warm about him, the ultimate desire of millions of female lusts everywhere…and some male, but he forbade discussion of that particular fact. Half of his brain was wondering when they would find a town—a town harboring beautiful women and fine liquor and more cigarettes. The other half was contemplating the best way to annoy the monkey.
"If you bring bad luck down on us, I'm going to shoot you in the head," growled the one and only Genjyo Sanzo. Of course, just the mere thought of two Sanzos in one world was enough to make brave men cry. Sanzo was the outcome when Buddhists went wrong. He was short-tempered, arrogant, and downright mean for someone so gorgeous. Looks-wise, he surpassed even Gojyo; personality-wise, he was the kappa's complete opposite. He had no qualms about shooting women who got on the wrong nerves, and thoroughly disguised any and all compassion he may have possessed behind his banishing gun. "After all that bullshit, the last thing we need is more bullshit."
The formerly-human youkai-murderer Cho Hakkai laughed his enigmatic it-could-mean-anything-at-all laugh, habitually hiding his tumultuous past behind a serene expression possessed of all the traits one finds in the expressions of "nice guys" who actually have a deep-seeded cruelty. He was the quiet person of the group, the one whose anger was least desirable in a fight. When Hakkai was angry, brave men wet their pants and ran screaming for their mommies. "Well, Sanzo, I agree that it's much more peaceful now, but it is rather uneventful. Even Kougaiji's people seem to be ignoring us."
Gojyo chuckled, "Probably too scared to try anything. We kicked some serious ass back there."
Goku dropped his hands to his sides and sank back into the seat with a heavy sigh. "Yeah…but why'd they hafta go so soon? After all that, it's annoyin' that there's nobody t' talk to."
"Oy. Then who are we?" Gojyo muttered past a Hi-Lite, mildly insulted at being called "nobody".
Sanzo took another drag of his cigarette. "Don't provoke him. Maybe he'll shut up for once." The last thing the monk wanted was a discussion over one of the most idiotic events in his entire life, filled with people—and gods—whom he would much rather pretend had never existed.
"Sanzo, tha's just mean!" cried the monkey.
Hakkai interrupted before tempers escalated any higher, "Goku, please. You know that it's better this way. Our two worlds are better off not getting mixed up, and it seems the gods of Lydia's realm are far more imposing than our own here. We wouldn't want another Chitsujo incident to happen now, would we?"
He pouted. "Yeah…I guess not…"
"But still…" Gojyo muttered, throwing his head back and dragging on his cigarette. He undid the ponytail and crimson hair fluttered behind him in waves.
"Crapcakes! I'm boooored!" Goku cried suddenly.
And thus fate had the kindness to grant them a release from boredom, in the form of Lord Bishop Hazel and Gat…but they don't actually show up here. (A/N: See Reload Vols. 4-5)
(Shack, Sweet Shack)
"I'm going to kill you!" I shouted upon entering my excruciatingly humble abode.
After all the crap that had happened, Chaos (now "Andy" while he lived with me) and Comedy (his alias was "Yossarian" for some ridiculous reason) ended up getting stuck on earth as mere immortals—gods, yes, but demoted gods with no benefits but the fringe—whereas Tragedy had been given a management position in Tartarus. Andy's pet talking foul-mouthed raven Rhadymanthus was currently out for a flight, and was the only one who didn't drive me up the wall.
"Yossarian" loved Earth. "Andy" harbored passionate feelings of ill will toward his superiors for reassigning him as an Earth-bound god of Chaos, as well as an Agent of Death. I was just pissed that their incessant presence had made it necessary to move out of my adopted home and rent an apartment on the wrong side of town.
And now this? This was the fifth lost job in three months thanks to that bastard's meddling!
"Welcome home!" cheered Comedy, emerging from the kitchen wearing his baby blue duckie pajamas and a pink frilly apron. "I made biscuits! Want some?"
I frowned up into his jovial tanned face and flickering ember eyes, noted his disheveled snowy white hair, and folded my arms across my chest. "Why are you in your PJ's? Don't tell me you just woke up."
He pouted like a five-year-old, though his physical development was more in the early twenties range. "I took a nap. I went to visit sis, then went to the supermarket and bought a cake for your birthday, and played all the Resident Evil games in one go…I had a nightmare, so I woke up." He brightened then. "Want some cake? You've been eighteen for a week! Sorry I forgot…"
I sure as hell hadn't forgotten, and had, on the day I turned that wretched age, gone out and done the smartest thing a young girl living with two guys on the wrong side of town could do.
I clean and oil it every day. Heh-heh-heh…
I shook my head. "After dinner, wacko. Right now I have to go kill Andy."
"'Kay, but be finished killing him by six, 'cause I put steaks on the grill, and you should drink some juice in the meantime, 'cause you get really weird when your sugar's low."
"Sure thing, funny-boy." I swear. He was like my wife-slash-son…which was a sad, sad, SAD thing to realize…perhaps it had been a mistake to forsake all possibility for romance in my life.
Then again, I was still convinced that LOVE was merely some other sort of mental illness that I really didn't need to be diagnosed with along with the mild paranoid schizophrenia.
Nope, screw that. I had enough drama as it was, living with gods and all—while still being an atheist.(3)
Irony ruled my existence in so many ways.
Setting the "Yossarian" issue on the backburner (I still couldn't figure out why he wanted to be called that), I stomped across creaky sixth-floor floorboards to my room, which, unfortunately, was only one of two, and Chaos had the embarrassing—read: infuriating—habit of invading my bed. Lately it had gotten to the point where not one night would go by where he wouldn't suddenly appear out of the shadows and under my covers, dozing peacefully in black silk pajamas. The fact that the ass-hat could afford silk irritated me to no end. Damn that rich bastard god.
When I reached the room I slammed the door open so hard that chipped plaster flaked off the wall behind it.
He was sitting on my bed with his back to the headboard, reading a manga with a curious frown—touching my personal effects?! But…manga? That was just too weird for words.
While I smoldered in the doorway, he looked up with half-vacant expression. "Oh, hello. When did you get home?" His eyes didn't glow while he was pretending humanity, but they had never needed that little trick to be so damn pretty. I silently wished I had a spoon in hand.
Instead, I exploded, "I told you repeatedly that I don't want you coming anywhere near my place of work ever again. What part of that is not in plain, understandable English? You got me fired! AGAIN!"
He frowned slightly and turned back to the book, flipping a page. "You got yourself fired. It's not my fault that you're skipping your psychiatric appointments and going crazy in public without your medication."
"Dr. Renfield is crazier than I am! Eleven years was enough!" I shrieked, grabbing the wind-up alarm clock off the bookshelf and chucking it at his head. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!"
He moved back a millimeter and it missed him, only to clang against the opposite wall and land in one indestructible piece. Flip. "No…you're yelling at me and I'm disinclined to listen."
"Look, jackass, rent is due in three days and I only have half of what I need. I already gave up my family because of you! I don't want to lose my home!"
Flip. "I already took care of rent."
"And another thing—what?" I froze, my index finger half-poised for another declaration.
Flip. "I said, 'I already took care of rent,'" he repeated, finally looking up with one raised brow. The look he wore was sharp, but worried. "I'll take care of that from now on. Electricity and water, too."
"But—," I attempted, only to be cut off by the doorbell. "Eh? Stay here. We need to have a discussion."
Flip. "I wait with bated breath," he murmured almost sadly.
That creepy, creepy man. What had his knickers in a twist?
"You're wearing out my doorbell," I growled at the visitor before opening the door. "Eh?"
No one was there.
"Damn kids," I sighed, mourning my own lost youth. I started to close the door, but hesitated when I heard someone clearing their throat. I looked down to find a tiny child in dark clothing, with a rather large, deformed head and one huge, bruised eye beside a smaller, more normal one. He had horns growing out of his head.
"Hello, you must be Lydia," he said in a whispery tone, the one huge eye rolling up to stare at me while the other followed like a minion. "I am here to speak with the former Chaos god."
I blinked, then turned and shouted, "Ass-hat! The Antichrist wants to talk to you!"
(Togenkyo—Houtou Castle)
"Ah, so this is your pet project," murmured Professor Ni Jianyi with the usual dangerous smirk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and holding his precious bunny tight under one arm.
Doctor Hwan flinched at the sound of his voice and spun her chair around before the computer station. She'd forgotten to lock the door again. The gig was up, but she had to play it off nonchalantly. "What are you doing here?"
"Just wondering where my favorite assistant ran off to." The glare of the monitor behind her flashed off his lenses, leaving the impression that they were just floating in empty space above a human body. But when he turned his head he reappeared, staring at a stack of documents on her table. "Hmm… 'Divine Dynamics'? 'Gods Theory'? My, my, you have been busy, haven't you, Doctor Hwan?"
"I've surpassed your research Ni," she replied flatly, unable to keep at least a little of the pride from her tone.
He smirked, holding the bunny under one arm while the other hand brought a smoldering cigarette to his lips. "Is that so? And how have you surpassed me, may I ask?"
It was her turn to wear the smug smile. "That bunny doll you gave him—I cleaned it out and made a few changes while you were off working on the generator. Is Lady Koushu still angry with you for failing?"
She had meant that last as a sharp remark, but he merely chuckled and scratched an itch—or, rather, itched a scratch—between his shoulder blades. "Ahh…she's forgiven me."
Hwan cringed and turned angrily back to her monitor. "Get out of my lab!"
He chuckled again and hugged the bunny to his chest. "As you wish, Doctor. I have business to attend to anyway." And with an inscrutable smile he strolled out, leaving the Doctor frazzled and stressed as usual.
She gripped the edge of the desk and set her shoulders straight, determined to make it work. "This is my chance," she whispered to herself. "I can't allow myself to fail…"
(Pepito)
"What nonsense are you spouting now?" sighed my roommate, emerging from my quarters with a lackadaisical swagger and his raven hair all tousled. Sometimes, I just wanted to attack him. Times like these. Nobody was allowed to be that damn cool in my presence.
I twitched and stepped aside with a sweeping gesture. "The Antichrist, as I said, wishes to speak with you."
He frowned at me in confusion, then looked through the doorway at the tiny demon-child-thing, and suddenly halted in mid-step. "Pepito?"
The creature smiled…if you can call it that. Actually, it kind of creeped me out. "Ah, Mors, there you are. I have something to discuss with you."
I blinked, then cast a narrow glance askance at the only other person present. "'Mors'?" I inquired suspiciously. Mors was the female-gender Latin word for "death". So they were giving him girls names…huh. Cool.
"Lydia, go back to the room," he ordered suddenly.
"Excuse me?" Surely it wasn't that embarrassing!
He gave me a look. "Just go, please? This is…not good news."
"I think I can handle your retarded little issues," I snapped crossly.
But before I knew what was going on, he suddenly grabbed my arm, dragged me to my room, pushed me in, and shut the door. I stared at the cracked wood for a split-moment, and then I snapped.
"Chaos, you asshole!" I cried, gripping the knob, turning, and yanking.
The door didn't budge. I checked the lock, but it wasn't locked. It was just…not opening.
"Chaos? Andy! What did you do to the door?! Damn you! Bastard! I'll freaking kill you if you screwed up my door!" I pounded and kicked and rammed the door with my shoulder, but still it wouldn't budge.
Well…time to be proactive. I went over the bed, pulled a long black leather case out from underneath, and took out a friend I hadn't seen in nearly two years.
"Hello, Ryushi," I murmured, trailing my fingertip down the razor edge of the blade and testing its sharpness. It was shaped like the straight tip of a fishhook, barbed and meant to cause serious damage to flesh and bone alike.
I was going to kill that ass-hat on sight…
…and four hours later, I was asleep on the floor, hugging my sword.
(Bad News)
When Chaos finally opened the door to his and Lydia's room (he thought of it that way due to the fact that he slept there more often than not, and had no room of his own), his first crazy thought was that Lydia had escaped out the window. When he saw Ryushi's empty case on the floor, his second crazy thought was that he insane girl had escaped into the populace armed.
But before the panic set in, soft breathing sounds drew his attention to the carpet beside the door, where he found her passed out on her side from exhaustion, clutching the weapon like a stuffed doll. She had been working almost constantly lately to pay the bills in their rundown little apartment.
He sighed with relief and quickly set to work, carefully prying the blade from her death grip and setting it back in the case, then gently gathering her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.
After arranging her into a comfortable position, he sat beside her and whispered softly, "I hate to do this to you, but it seems we have a huge problem."
She stirred slightly, then sighed, "What…"
"According to Pepito, we left Togenkyo in a fractured state, and all kinds of strange things have been going on ever since, like dimensional rifts, time warps, supernatural occurrences, bizarre climate shifts." He turned to her sleeping visage and felt a pang of guilt at the worried frown creasing her brow. "I'm sorry, but I have to go back and fix it. If worse comes to worse, it may be that a minor god has gotten in between the cracks and is now starting all kinds of mischief, and those Nordic gods are a pain in the ass in their own world to begin with…"
"You're going…alone?"
He frowned uncertainly. "Well, yes…why?"
"Take me…too…"
"I'm leaving immediately," he said slowly. "Tonight."
"It shouldn't…be that hard…to take me…with you…"
He paused, thought it over, then admitted a soft chuckle. "I honestly would love to bring you with me, and I know it wouldn't be difficult, but what is your conscious half going to do to me when you wake up in that place again?"
It was her turn to consider, and after a moment or two an unsettled expression flickered across her face. "Probably…try to…kill you……again."
"See? Asleep, you're an angel, but you're a demon in the waking world. I try so hard to win your trust, yet I still have nothing to show for it."
"Keep trying…" She rolled over then, huddled against his leg, and fell deeper into her slumber, leaving him to decide on his own.
Someone tapped lightly on the open door, and he looked up to see Comedy all packed and ready to go, carrying two backpacks and a duffle bag, and wearing what looked an awful lot like an arctic survival suit. Around his neck, in a poorly-stitched red velvet pouch, hung a stuffed bunny, half borg and half plushie—its name was Bob.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Chaos asked at length.
"It's cold there, and I brought a bunch of Lyds' things—she'll probably die without her DVDs. Say, which car are we takin'?"
Chaos couldn't help but feel slightly left behind. "How do you know it's cold…?" He then came to a realization and shook his head. "Wait, hold on just a minute—who said you were coming?"
Comedy propped his fists on his hips in indignation. "I did, and Bob said I could come, too."
The disgruntled god massaged his temples slowly before replying, "I give up. Get everything into the Land Rover. And put that microwave back in the kitchen, you dolt!"
"But I'm gonna make popcorn! I brought the car plug, too!"
"Put. It. Back."
"Dag nabbit…fine…"
Comedy creaked across the floor to the kitchen, replaced the appliance, then banged out the front door while lugging both his and Lydia's survival kits. Chaos heaved a preparatory sigh and picked the girl up once more, carrying her out to the waiting vehicle where she was bound to wake up in a few hours and make yet another attempt on his pitiful life. Some days he regretted ever picking her out of that catalog…
…before immediately succumbing to crushing guilt for ever thinking such blasphemous thoughts.
(Kagekoku Village)
The tired, sinking sun resting on the horizon three days later washed the expansive snowscape in tangerine tones. A modest cluster of buildings up ahead was their target, the only shelter they could find from the sudden biting chill of the freak-snowstorm only three hours prior. Ever since the second pack of gods had left, things just kept getting stranger and stranger, especially the weather.
The jeep had been growing progressively more cramped as the day wore on, and by the time they entered the village limits they were all more than ready for a hot meal, a cozy bed, and plenty of time away from the other members of the party.
"Y'know, I just realized that I'm really getting sick of zombies," grumbled Gojyo, forcing himself up out of the jeep as soon as it was parked in front of a suitable inn. "Two weeks or not, dead things should just stay that way."
Hakkai smiled in amusement. "On the bright side, we're less likely to attract as much attention this far west, thanks to Bishop Hazel and Gat."
Gojyo cringed. "Yeah, and what's up with that?! How are we supposed to mooch off all the free shit Sanzo gets if he's not getting any free shit?"
The priest in question rounded on him in a flash, brandishing his handgun. "Who are you mooching off of? WHO? Let me inform you of something you may not already know, smart-ass: I CAN KILL YOU AT ANY MOMENT AND LEAVE YOU HERE TO ROT!"
While the priest attempted to commit murder, Goku turned to Hakkai with a sad frown and shining, watery eyes. "But…before, people would give us so much free food…"
The noise from the other side stopped and Sanzo appeared beside the monkey, this time brandishing a large (supposedly lead-lined) paper fan. He whacked Goku across the head once, and while the young heretic cringed in pain, he growled irately, "And yet despite the free food, you still manage to suck all the money you can out of the Three Aspects' gold card."
"'Snot my fault they never give me enough to eat," he grumbled, rubbing the sore lump on his skull.
Gojyo strode by and mussed up the boy's hair as he passed to enter the inn, "Nah, you're just a glutton."
"Take that back!" Goku retorted in a flash, chasing after the cockroach in his monkey rage.
While the two degenerates ran in circles through the snow, the two remaining competent members of the group headed into the inn, reserved the only two vacancies, commented on the irony that the inn just "happened" to have two vacancies left, and took up residence in one of the rooms. This arrangement was designed to keep Sanzo's environment as benevolent as possible, seeing as how he was likely to start shooting if either of the other two shared with him, and being the implicitly unanimously selected matriarchal figure of the four, Hakkai was more than willing to accommodate the monk and keep the peace.
It took approximately fifteen minutes of snowball fights escalating into disputes over the legality of ice balls and general wreaking of havoc for the two absent members to realize that they had been abandoned. Once this realization occurred, however, they hightailed it into the inn only to find that the worst had happened:
They had to share a room.
"Aw, dammit!" cursed Gojyo. "Why won't anything go right?!"
(Author's Notes)
(1) Spanish for "The Boss"
(2) That was an ironic reference to the fact that yes, she sleeps with Kon, but no, not in the way they think—language is so screwy. (laugh) Literally! Also, people who say "O-M-G" rather than "oh, my God" need to rethink their options whenever they feel the urge to speak. Please, for the love of toast, just say the damn words—they both have the same number of syllables! (as does "holy crap", which is an equally satisfactory replacement)
(3) Ironically, she's half-Mexican and half-Italian—because I just find that concept amusing. No, I'm not an atheist—I actually like the thought that some omnipotent supernatural being is up there like the Godfather calling all the shots.
There you have it. The Prologue to The Sequel. Don't worry. The beginning's always awkward. I tried a bit of a parallel thing, and yes, the two massive variations in time between Lydia's world and Togenkyo were intentional. Two years have passed Lydia-Time, and only two weeks have gone by in Saiyuki-Time. Why? Because it'll help get Sanzo all riled up, just the way I like him.
THOU HAST READ, NOW REVIEW! I need input and constant prodding to tear myself away from school and actually update this mess. If anyone wants to know the meaning of a word or has any questions for the sake of clarity or about an allusion, please ask. I'm always available for you guys.
P.S. I LOVE ALL MY READERS! THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME FOR SO LONG! XD
—Cyh Scævola, the Chaos Theoryst OUT
