:: Child's Mantra ::
Gensomaden Saiyuki
Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.
Rating: G
Pairings: none, though there could be some underlying Sanzo/Goku hints
Warnings: mild angst, somewhat sappy
Notes: Wow, I haven't written a fic this tame for over eight months. ^_^; Go me.
This was inspired by the rain. Seriously. I love the rain (I tell you, I am so Sanzo's opposite) but we don't get much rain on the islands... but a short while ago there were really dark clouds and a lot of rain for a little bit right after school. So while I was busy getting myself soaked, I thought of this idea. Then I held the fic off because posting a lot of fics in a short period of time makes me feel weird. ^^;
About the song… I obviously didn't make up the first verse, and the last is just one version of many I've heard little kids make up. The rest, however, I did write—and I have no idea whether the song really is longer or not. It was just a fun thing to insert, and I think it works.
Anyway, it's mostly just an introspective Sanzo fic. Constructive criticism and feedback is muchly encouraged!
Rain, rain, go away
Come again another day
Little children want to play
Rain, rain, go away
He'd never cared for the rain even before that horrible night, had never been able to see what was so great about cold water that soaked you through. Many a time he had seen other young apprentices running around in a downpour, laughing and squealing as they played, knowing they would get in trouble for making a mess later. Such impetuous actions made him frown and turn away.
He never had fit in well with the other students. It had been ten times worse that even the adults despised him, leaving him with only two people he could rely on-- and only one person he could truly care for.
So when his younger classmates chanted their childish mantra, he had always done his best to ignore it. Back then rain had been a mere annoyance, and the song even more annoying.
Now rain brought back an onslaught of horrible memories and the song had all but diminished in the back of his mind.
Clouds, clouds, rolling in
Thunder making such a din
Lightning proof of mortal sin
Clouds, clouds, rolling in
It had just been sunny the day before. Sanzo glared at the graying skies, daring them to rain right then. Naturally, Mother Nature wasn't one to listen to others, not even a high-ranking priest such as Sanzo. She would cry at her own convenience, not his.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket inside his robes then searched for a lighter. Might as well have a smoke now, seeing how he wouldn't be able to later.
That wasn't to say he was doing this out of respect for the other monks' breathing space. He honestly didn't care, wasn't fazed by their quiet disapproval of indulging in such a worldly thing. Besides, their incense was to him as the heavy cloud of nicotine was to them. They could deal with it.
No, it was because a certain little brat would complain about the smell, would complain loudly and relentlessly until he finally gave in and put it out just to shut the annoying voice up.
As though on cue, a cry of delight sounded from behind him. "Wow, it's all dark!"
He watched a blur of brown and gold streak past him, out the door, and on to the holy grounds beyond. A good few feet away a boy stopped, not wearing the typical monk robes, covered head to toe with various scuff marks from only-the-gods knew what, staring up at the thunderclouds in something akin to awe.
Sanzo turned away from the sight.
Wind, wind, blowing cold
Cursing illness to the old
Crying out the truths untold
Wind, wind, blowing cold
He didn't linger outside any longer than necessary, choosing refuge within the dry safety of the temple walls. He almost called outside to remind the boy to come in before it started raining, but stopped himself. Since when was he that brat's keeper, and since when had something like that become almost an instinctive reaction?
The cool breeze that had been blowing earlier picked up, the whispers turning into something akin to howls. Still he didn't look back. He went straight to his room and sat down, indulging himself with the newspaper and another cigarette. If he wasn't the boy's keeper, then the brat could learn to deal with the smell of smoke.
Aside from the occasional rustle of paper and the sound of his breathing, it was dead silent. It slowly began to unnerve him, because nothing had ever been this peaceful for so long since he had taken that boy in.
Taken him in? This was just getting worse the more he dwelled on it. Scowling, Sanzo turned his full attention to a long, fairly boring article in the center.
When it began to rain, his already sour mood worsened. Sanzo lit another cigarette.
The sound began as a drumming in his ears, but it slowly worked its way to his chest, through his veins, into his bones. Shivering slightly from cold, Sanzo finally looked up from the paper he had been so immersed in and realized it was getting late. He was reluctant to call the boy in, but if he didn't get something to eat, Sanzo knew he would only be hearing that whiny voice all night.
Putting out the cigarette, he stood and paused briefly to straighten his robes and sutras before leaving the room. The rain was louder in the hallways, pouring ceaselessly against the thin wood and paper of the temple walls. A chorus of deep, quiet murmuring could be heard down the hall where the elder monks were surely praying to the gods, wishing for the rain to stop.
A couple of the younger boys were scampering down the hallways, giggling in delight as they retreated from the wet outdoors to their rooms. They seemed so proud of themselves to have gotten away with disobeying their elders, and Sanzo was in no mood to rebuke them.
He turned a blind eye to the scene, striding outside and walking on the porch, keeping meticulously out of the rain as he searched for the boy.
He wasn't someone to be easily missed; having put up a lot of fights and arguments, the boy hadn't allowed his hair to be shaved off, and Sanzo had never put up any objections. No would dared to argue with a Sanzo, and that was the only reason the long mess of brown had never been cut.
However, what Sanzo saw made him pause, blink, and look again.
Snow, snow, falling white
Giving children smiles so bright
Blinding in the morning light
Snow, snow, falling white
Golden eyes never blinked, one hand cautiously shading them so they could peer up at the sky. The boy's movements were idle, as though he wasn't consciously aware that he was moving as he hummed to himself. Or perhaps moving was too general a word, but the only other description Sanzo could come up with on the spot was graceful clumsiness, simply because the boy would sway on his feet, stagger, but never fall as he caught himself from toppling over.
Sanzo watched wordlessly as the boy closed his eyes, slowly spreading his arms as though to embrace the heavens. A boyish smile touched his lips, giddy laughter spilling forth as he continued to sway. The humming slowly transformed into words and Sanzo was barely able to make them out over the sound of the rain. The words were familiar until the boy reached the last chorus, where one line struck him.
"Sun, sun, shining down, giving warmth to the town. Golden as my Sanzo's crown; sun, sun, shining down," the boy sang, spinning and nearly tripping face first into the mud. Once again he caught himself with surprising grace, laughing.
Part of Sanzo silently berated the boy for having the audacity to call him his Sanzo, but another part was too entranced by the boy's actions to actually voice the thought. For the first time in years, he felt a pang of longing, briefly wishing that he could be as carefree as the child he had taken in. Even as a child he had never been able to smile at the cloudy skies, enjoying the rain on his skin rather than detesting it. Even before that night...
Feeling finally returned to his body. Pushing the longing from his mind, Sanzo strode into the rain and grasped the boy by his long hair.
"You little brat; you're soaking wet! You're going to track mud all over the place inside!"
Wincing, the boy yelped. "Ow! I'm sorry! Leggo!"
Acting as though he'd never spoken, Sanzo tugged on the wet strands in his hand, effectively pulling the boy along. "Besides, that isn't how the song goes."
"I know, but I don't know any kings or what their crowns look like, so I picked yours instead."
"Stupid. It's not a crown."
"I know that!"
Still cursing the boy for getting to wet and muddy, Sanzo didn't release his hair until they were under a dry roof. "Now I'm all wet because of you, stupid monkey," he accused.
"I'm sorry already!"
"And you damn well should be. Go wash and dry yourself off before you even think about setting foot into my room."
"Okay, okay..."
Sun, sun, shining down
Giving warmth to the town
Golden as a kingly crown
Sun, sun, shining down
Sanzo was left alone again, giving him too much room to think about the strange emotion he had felt earlier. Longing? That was entirely new to him; as Kouryuu he'd had Koumyou Sanzo, his master and surrogate father, and after Koumyou had been killed he had quickly learned to cope as Genjo Sanzo.
He frowned, realizing that his sutras was wet. He hadn't intended to go into the rain; now he would have to carefully dry the scrolls out. How annoying; that boy only seemed to bring him more and more pain.
But when he paused to think about the almost ethereal image of him standing in the rain, soaked through as though he had jumped into a pond with all his clothes on and then crawled out, shamelessly laughing and grinning, Sanzo found it harder to be angry with him. Along with the yearning he felt a stab of jealousy, a brief, childish jealousy that that boy could experience everything that he had felt denied to him...
Well, almost everything.
A few minutes later the boy scrambled inside, his hair dripping, but for the most part he was dry. "Okay, I'm done!"
Rolling his eyes, Sanzo said roughly, "Get over here." The boy protested when Sanzo jerked him down, whining loudly as Sanzo took a towel to his still-dripping hair, but didn't struggle. Even though the priest's hands were rough, ungentle in touch, he never moved to get away. After a while he started humming. Sanzo instantly recognized it as the rain's lullaby.
For once he didn't turn away from it but listened, quietly thoughtful as the boy softly put the sounds into words. Even on the final chorus he refused to use the original words, opting for his own version.
Sanzo's hands had long since stilled, but still they sat still, the lullaby weaving an odd sense of peace around and between them.
Closing his eyes, Sanzo muttered, "Stupid monkey."
Still smiling, Goku continued to hum.
Rain, rain, come and stay
Come and stay another day
Little children can still play
Rain, rain, come and stay