Trading Spaces
Chapter 4 :
Where the Hell Did That Come From?
He was tired. So damn tired. This whole bloody mishap seemed to be headed straight to hell. He'd been banished from the flower shop after his first hour, deemed a force worse than Ken at his absolute worst. Apparently that was saying something. Judging by the fact that in the hour he'd been in the flower shop Ken had broken two pots and nearly dropped a large fichus tree after picking it up when it was too heavy for him, being declared worse than Ken was a major insult. It wasn't his fault he didn't know jack about being a florist. He had some of Aya's flimsy memories to go on, and not much else. Who'd have thought that extinguishing his cigarette butts in the pot of geraniums next to the register was a bad thing to do? Really, Sanzo extinguished his cigarettes in foliage all the time. It was just leaves and paper. Didn't that make good fertilizer?
But at least now he didn't have to work. Or go to the doctor's. The youth whose name he'd learned was Omi had led him up into his own apartment and backed out cautiously with instructions that he yell should he need anything at all. The implied idea was that Sanzo shouldn't leave the premises. If he'd had anywhere to go, he'd have gone already, just to spite them. Certainly, Aya's surface memory contained knowledge of parks and coffee shops, but Sanzo had seen glimpses of a great city beyond the flower shop window, and he had no desire to tempt fate by running out into the crush, no matter how pissed off he was.
And he was, royally, pissed-off. Royally. Kanzeon Bosatsu was going to pay for this. Dearly. The man called Yohji had been generous enough to donate several packs of cigarettes when he'd learned that Sanzo was addicted to nicotine, with a flippant comment along the lines of 'gotta help a brother out'. Whatever. Ken looked alarmed at the idea that he was going to be smoking, but a well placed glare seemed enough to quiet him. For now. Sanzo didn't doubt that he'd be back later.
There was interesting food in Aya's place, a lot of marine-type creatures, and it was quiet, the light pleasantly diffused. Sanzo had poked around idly, looking at books and what not, and trying to piece together the life of his counter part. After all, if he was going to be sharing the man's body, he had some right to know, didn't he? Sanzo scowled at the thought of another man poking through his own sore, painful memories. Dammit. Someone had better fix this mess, and soon. He was getting tired of being treated like a mental patient, and he sure as hell was getting grumpy about the fact that someone else was in his body, with his gun, and, gods help them all, the sutra. He hoped that one of those idiots had the presence of mind to get the sutra away from him. Or whoever was in his body, anyways.
Idly, Sanzo found himself thinking of Goku. He wondered how the saru was faring. After all, if he wasn't around to discipline the damn chimp, who else was going to do it? And suddenly, Sanzo was a bit more eager to have this mess straightened out. With a sigh, he flopped back onto the simple, pristine bed. The bed conspicuously absent of any annoying, clingy brunet lovers.
Last night he'd absolutely denied Ken entrance to his apartment. There was no way he was dealing with that if he didn't have to. The brunet hadn't wanted to sleep in his bed so much as he'd wanted to keep an eye on him and make sure that he didn't 'hurt' Ran's body in anyway. Snorting, the monk inhaled deeply on his cigarette. Stupid bastard.
But that had been a whole morning and evening ago, and as much as he hated to admit it, Sanzo was getting bored. Big time. Most of the books Aya owned were written in languages that the monk had never heard of, let alone read. There had been one or two books in a scholar's Chinese that he vaguely recognized, one of them being some nonsense about the Tao, and another being some kind of tail about a monk, a monkey, a pig, and a water dragon. He hadn't read the rudimentary introduction beyond that. Although somehow the premise seemed familiar.
After that, there was nothing. He'd tried to read the newspaper from what appeared to be the day he'd probably been shoved into this god-forsaken reality, but again, it was in a language he'd hardly understood. He'd recognized some of the characters well enough, but their placing made no sense to him; utter gibberish.
As far as he could tell, he'd been in this reality for three days. Three days, without so much as a by-your-leave from anyone, including the old hag herself. Three damn days he'd sat in this place, picking at food, listening to a strange language on the radio, rifling through books and the occasional magazine. The highlight of his torment had been the discovery of an art book with a title written in strange characters he'd never seen before. Inside, there were smooth, page-sized pictures of distorted and tortured images that made no sense; watches, warped and limp, animals with long, skinny legs-impossibly tall, faces that looked humanoid, but like no interpretation of humans he'd ever seen. After about twenty minutes of being fascinated in a borderline disgusted manner, Sanzo had closed the book with an audible snap and shoved it back in it's place on the shelf. He hadn't liked the way it had resonated with something inside of him.
He was in his third round of pacing and chain smoking, when he finally spied it in the corner. Leaning against the wall, propped there so innocently, black and then and shining dully. Blaming the boredom, the monk stalked over and crouched before it, not touching, but leaning in carefully, like a stray animal sniffing warily at the prospect of a full supper. It felt….well, Sanzo didn't know how to explain the feeling, only that it had a feeling. Maybe mildly like demon magic, with the exception that it didn't feel evil persay; more dark and morbid.
His fingers were grasping the tip of it before he could blink or understand what he was doing. A jolt of sensation shot up his arm as his fingers touched cold metal of what the monk now understood to be a sword. His hand grasped the slim hilt, and he was assaulted by a nightmare vision in blacks and reds, roaring and screaming filling his ears.
Panting, Sanzo jolted backwards, coming-to to find himself sprawled on his ass, the sword innocently tipped on it's side, hilt facing him. Scooting backwards a bit, the priest scowled in thought, lighting another cigarette. So the damn pansy kept a demonic sword in his room? Did he wield it? Could he? Sanzo eyed the weapon with ill-concealed suspicion. Carefully, he reached out, wrapping pale fingers around the hilt once more. He closed his mind ruthlessly against the light show this time, and slowly, carefully, pulled the blade from the scabbard. This time, he was unable to stop the vision that assaulted his brain.
It was raining; pouring. Always raining, always the same. He lay, paralyzed, in pain, pinned beneath the rubble of what had been his own home only scant minutes ago.
And Aya. Aya was there too. Always the same. Always coming for him, reaching out to him. Always he struggled; against the pain, to freedom, to save her. To save her from the demons, from himself.
And always, he would hear the roar of well-oiled gears, fine-quality machinery purring and crooning so deceptively. Always he would call out to her, reaching and reaching while she seemed to fly farther and farther away.
Always, she looked up, paralyzed in the oncoming headlights.
And always, he would hear her screaming, see that body, that beautiful body, those brilliant, vibrant eyes, flying, falling, dying. And she would land, so close and yet so far, with a sound that vibrated through the ground and into his heart.
And always, the monster drove away.
And left him.
In the pouring rain.
And the silence.
Ran Fujimiya threw his head back, and screamed as he died.
To be reborn again.
In blood.
Alone.
When Sanzo was thrust back into himself, he came-to violently, gasping like he hadn't been breathing for several minutes. Perhaps he hadn't. A sharp pain had him looking down, and he started at the sight of his own blood. Hastily, he dropped the sword as he recognized that he'd been gripping the blade tightly.
Cursing, Sanzo turned, rising to clean himself up when the door chose that precise moment to unlock itself and open. Ken stood on the other side, a cocky grin spread across his features.
"Knew those were a spare set of keys…" he muttered to himself, tucking a large key-ring into his pocket. He turned just in time to see Sanzo standing in the front hall on his way to the bathroom, Ran's violet eyes wide and startled in an expression Ken rarely saw unless his lover felt vulnerable and unsure about something. His eyes traced down at a small 'splat' sound to find the man bleeding. The sight of his lover's hand red and injured moved Ken into action.
"Shit! What the hell is wrong with you? I said not to hurt him! Isn't smoking enough?" before Sanzo could answer, he found himself shoved roughly and hurriedly into the bathroom where somehow Ken managed to shove him so that he sat on the toilet seat. (Another fine invention Sanzo hadn't seen before, but thoroughly appreciated. He did not, however, like the fact that the seat was heated…)
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the monk hissed. But Ken was already pulling down the first aid kit and opening it up.
"Shut the hell up. It's bad enough you're in Ran's body and smoking, I'm not going to let his hand get all infected and further damaged because you have some ass-nine idea that you don't need anyone to take care of it." The brunet growled. "This ain't your body pal. I don't care if you normally take bullet wounds without help, I'm sure as hell not going to let you wreck Ran's body while you're at it. So just shut the hell up and sit still."
Sanzo fumed. He growled and grit his teeth. That was it. Balling the fingers of his free hand into a fist, he pulled his arm back and let into Ken's jaw so hard the younger man actually fell backwards, crashing into the door-frame. Plaster crumbled and dust drifted into dark brown locks. Relief was almost immediate. The monk sighed contentedly and leaned back against the toilet tank.
Ken sat up slowly, fingers tentatively prodding at his jaw. Wincing, and with a precise movement, the brunet grabbed it and lurched it viciously back and to the right. It made a sickening pop noise, but then suddenly looked much better. Sanzo frowned. He hadn't meant to dislocate the man's jaw for crying out loud. Shaking his head and brushing the plaster from his hair and clothing, the brunet stood, wobbling slightly.
"Are you better now?" he ground out in a flat voice. Sanzo favored him with a slightly smug, bored look.
"Yes." he replied just as evenly.
"Good. Then can I take care of that?" the brunet finished, gesturing towards his still bleeding hand. Sanzo stared. Hard.
"Are you really that much of an idiot! I just punched you and you wanna make nice and take care of my freaking booboo?" Ken's jaw ground tighter at the mockery, but he refused to rise to the bait.
"You wanna fist-fight someone, wait until you're back in your own fucking body. Now if you don't fucking mind, you happen to be in the body of the man I love, and call me stupid, but I refuse to hit him when he's technically done nothing wrong. So you either let me see to that, or I fucking tie you down and do it anyways. And don't think I can't do it, because I will." So saying, Ken reached again for the first-aid box.
Sanzo said nothing. He figured he'd already gotten the guy pretty damn good, and if Ken wasn't going to fight back, then there wasn't any sport in it, even if he wasn't going to verbally concede. Besides, if the monk had to hear any more damn self-righteous, sentimental speeches, he might choke on the sap. And damn if having someone take his violence so seriously wasn't fucking royally with his head. Sanzo told himself it was the visions and left it at that.
Ken finished and rose woodenly, without a word, and packed the kit up. Storing it in it's place, he walked out into the main room. His body tensed when he saw the sword, but without a word, he crossed to it, pulled a small, white cloth from the shelf nearby and wiped the blood clean. Carefully, he sheathed the blade and pulled the sword to his chest reverently. He didn't look at Sanzo as he left carrying the weapon.
The door closed quietly after him. Sanzo cussed and flopped back on the bed. Before he realized it, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO
Aya had been dozing peacefully, the recently tense silence he seemed to evoke having finally strained his last nerve to the point that he was exhausted from trying so hard not to hit someone.
Despite his earlier trip into lala land, Gojyo seemed to take Aya less and less seriously, going out of his way to piss the stoic man off. Of course, all of this after Hakkai warned him not to push it. Now, the healer gave Gojyo a warning glare, masked by a polite smile, as the half-breed was reaching out to prod yet again at the stranger living in Sanzo's body. This time, Goku joined Hakkai and grabbed Gojyo's wrist.
"Give it a rest dumbass!" he growled.
"Oh, are you sticking up for him now?"
"What if I am?"
"Stupid ape! He ain't Sanzo!"
"So?"
"So why the hell are you sticking up for him, dipshit!"
"Because he's freaking scary when he's pissed off! He knocked you out! Doesn't that make you at least little nervous or nothin'?"
"Che. Please. That little display was all show. And besides, I wasn't expecting him to be that ballsy."
"Freaking pervert kappa! He knocked you out cold!"
"He did not!"
"Dude, you were out for two hours!"
"And? I was tired!"
"Bullshit! You were so unconscious!"
"I was not! Not for two hours anyway."
"Uh-huh…"
"And how the hell could you tell the difference anyways, you stupid chimp?"
"Cause I poked you all through the second hour." :snicker:
"What? Is that where that bruise came from? You freaking little shit! That hurts!"
"Hey, don't blame me if your pervert kappa skin is so delicate. Maybe you should hang out in the sun longer? Unless of course, your dainty complexion can't take it…"
"Are you callin' me a pansy, monkey-cub?"
"I didn't say it, you did…And dammit! Stop calling me a monkey you pervert!"
"Make-me."
"Alright, I will. Pansy."
"What? Come over here and say that, dumbass."
"With pleasure, dipshit!"
"…." Alright, that was it. Reaching into his sleeve, Aya pulled out the lovely little object he'd found about fifteen minutes ago; a large, white, harisen. Raising his arm, he turned, and glaring at the two imbeciles in the back with the fury of Hell in his eyes, he walloped them both on their sorry, thick skulls. Hard.
"If you two don't shut. The hell. Up, I'm going to make you both very, very sorry. Got it?"
Gojyo and Goku peered up at him, still rubbing their sore heads. Hakkai sighed pleasantly; the reappearance of the infamous harisen was almost a relief. Actually, hell, it was a relief. It felt so….normal.
"What the hell did you do that for, you freaking corrupt monk?"
"Ow! Ya didn't have to hit so hard!"
"Hn." was Aya's reply, as he turned around and sat back down contentedly, clearly much less stressed than moments ago. Although Hakkai realized that Sanzo's usually witty threat was missing. Oh well. One couldn't ask for everything he supposed.
In the back seat, Gojyo and Goku were sulking, arms crossed and facing away from each other. The healer couldn't help but smirk.
"Ahh, what a peaceful day it is." Aya snorted and attempted to go back to dozing.
It was three hours, ten arguments, and about twenty or so whacks later that the demons attacked. Aya was shocked at first. It was too surreal to reach his fogged-over brain. Sanzo's brief memories had involved demons, but seeing them himself was completely different.
The other three leapt out of the jeep and into action. They'd already gone through this. The best plan was for Aya to stay armed and ready in the jeep, but not to charge into the fray. Aya was just fine with this plan. He had no plans to accidentally die while in the body of another man.
Instead, he watched the others battle with a smooth, calculated gaze; occasionally appraising or impressed, but mostly a smooth assessment of abilities should he ever find himself against any of these men. All of them were strong. But they each moved so differently.
Goku, the brown-haired, golden-eyed youth moved wildly. His movements bespoke an entity who relished in the feel of battle the way a child relishes the realm of play. Instead of soccer or baseball, Goku's bit of fun and sport seemed to be battle, and he moved accordingly. All of his steps were sure, but just the slightest bit unplanned; the way a runner or offensive player moves towards a goal steadily, using any means to reach it, an almost careless air about him. He fought with a long, pink staff, tipped with a gold sphere at each end, and seemed to use it as more than a weapon; it seemed an integral part of his fighting style and movements.
Gojyo, fought with a staff as well, however, this staff appeared to be more of a glaive. Aya recognized it as a shakujyo; a weapon of Chinese origin, double bladed. On the bottom was a heavy, curved blade, almost similar to an axe blade, whereas the crescent blade on top was detachable; connected by a long chain to the main part of the weapon. Aya didn't know much about them, but he knew enough to know that they were damn heavy and often difficult to wield. The lanky half-breed fought in a manner close to Yohji's, with the exception that while Yohji often fought in a cocky manner, he almost never looked like he enjoyed it. Gojyo, like Goku, looked like he was enjoying himself immensely, confident and arrogant that he was far more skilled than any fighter present.
Hakkai fought with a smile on his face, but appeared neither to hate nor love the battle. He handled his enemies in a business-like way, and periodically checked on his teammates to be certain they were doing well. Out of the three, Aya passed his guess that if angered into a confrontation, Hakkai had the potential to be most deadly. The polite smile did nothing to hide the razor edge to his movements or gaze. The green eyes were smooth and calculating, transforming chaos and spontaneity into a field of equations and probability statistics. Nothing moved past him. The man fought usuing some sort of martial-arts, and some-how seemed to be able to control his energy, manipulating it into cannon-ball sized starbursts of light that were capable of eradicating a great deal of the enemy at once. Further observation revealed the man could use such an ability to shield himself and others.
"Aya-san!" Aya jolted out of his musings, head snapping around to acknowledge Hakkai's yelling of his name. Too late. Something had made it past the healer and was headed directly for him. Without a thought, face ice-calm and stoic, Aya reached for the gun he knew was hidden in his robes, ignoring the jolt that slid up his arm as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. Without blinking, he leveled the weapon, and fired it. The demon running for him exploded in a spray of red and fell lifelessly to the ground, but Aya remained frozen, eyes wide and gun still hovering in the air as the electrifying sensation swept up his arm and into his brain, taking hold of his consciousness…
Always, it was the same.
His Master's final wish granted, the demons stormed in, demanding the sutra. And always, Komyu stood in front of him, arms spread wide, sleeves pure and fluttering like broken wings.
Always, Koryuu watched, could only watch, while his master, his savior, his teacher, and his fatherthe only man who Koryuu had ever felt so deeply for, was struck down in a flash of silver and a spray of red. Always, he watched the demons leave, unable to move, to cry out, to chase them and take his revenge, his master's revenge, the sutra. Always.
He simply stood. The pain too much to bear or understand, leaving him raw and numb and unable to interpret what his eyes had just told him; what his brain had just acknowledged, but what his heart could not understand.
And just like that, the darkness came. The silence settled. And in the split second before the footsteps pounded to the door, in the moment before the crime was discovered, Koryuu realized that it hadn't mattered. Nothing he felt mattered. Because he hadn't been able to protect the one that he loved. From the monsters. From himself. And in that moment, Koryuu died.
To be reborn again.
In blood.
Alone.
"Aya-san!"
Aya gasped deeply, like a man who'd just been underwater, and stared uncomprehendingly at Hakkai's worried face.
"Aya-san…?" Aya nodded blankly, feeling disoriented. The healer sighed in relief, and Goku nearly fell forward in his own relief.
"Oh man! That was scary! What happened! You ok?" the youth questioned, leaning into his personal space. Aya scowled and leaned back.
"I…don't know. I fired the gun and then I was someplace else." he said simply.
Gojyo snorted, lighting a cigarette. Hakkai frowned in his concern yet polite manner.
"Err….Aya-san…Was that the…first time you've killed…anyone?" he asked tentatively. Aya gave him a death glare for good measure.
"No." he said simply. The healer nodded.
"Then….do you know why this happened?" he pushed. Aya's scowl deepened. He was so tired suddenly. It was making him irritable.
"No."
"Ah. I see. Well, if you're sure you're alright, then we best head on. I don't think sticking around here is a good idea."
"Hn." Aya grunted his consent and rose shakily, clambering into the jeep. Gojyo passed on the opportunity to anger the man, instead studying him closely. Something had happened alright. And he was going to find out what. He'd have to grill Hakkai about it later. For now, however, he situated himself in the back and dug through his bag for the jerky he knew he'd placed there the last visit they'd made to town. Ten minutes and no jerky later, an angry kappa turned to confront an innocent-looking monkey. Hakkai winced as World War…well, he'd lost count, actually, started. Thankfully, Aya had already managed to be sucked into a deep dreamless sleep before the argument really got underway. Hakkai sighed.
He wondered how Sanzo would feel if he started threatening the two of them with chi blasts….
OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO
Wai! Chapter four finished! So busy with the going-home prep stuff! Hope Edo will be up soon!
Had some angst in this chapter, as a plot actually kind of came to me suddenly. Because honestly, there was no plot involved in this madness when it began. Just the result of one of those 'what if' questions that mean I have entirely too much free time. (Well, not any more anyways…) So hopefully the plot will finish developing. In the mean time, I hope you enjoyed this. This was the last Sanzo n' Aya chapter for now. Next up, Gojyo and Yohji. Hehe. Fun fun!
Ja na!
