Spring
Hakkai's Story
Disclaimer: Does not belong to me!
Dedicated to Robert
The thing about driving was that there was always something new. Granted, the new things weren't always exciting, and Hakkai had seen enough sand to last him his entire life. But the point wasn't that there was sand (and lots of it) but the knowledge that there was something beyond that sand. Hakkai knew he could take the journey West a thousand times over, and each time it would be different. However, Hakkai was currently hoping just to survive this trip.
Hakkai had not always known how to drive. It was one of those things that was just thrust upon him, and he picked it up because he had to. Hakuryuu was a ready teacher and helper—after all, the little dragon didn't want to be crashed into things anymore than Hakkai did. He'd had plenty of time to practice, though, and Hakkai now considered himself something of an expert. It was perhaps egotistical of him, but Hakkai felt he had claims to that right.
It was finally spring, and Hakkai was relieved. The winters were always hardest, and Hakkai wasn't entirely fond of snow. During those short days of winter, Hakkai could feel Gonou just a shadow of a step behind him. It would be easy to succumb. Hakkai and his pains would be gone. But then Goku was ask him to teach something, or Gojyo would say one of those things that kept Hakkai grounded, and Sanzo would say something snide, or get into trouble and need healing, and Hakkai knew it wasn't his place to leave. Hakkai was a teacher first and foremost, and he could not deny that to Goku. Gojyo was his best friend, and Hakkai couldn't abandon his friend. Sanzo was his responsibility and his duty, and he couldn't leave that behind. And, so, Hakkai would eternally be tied to Hakkai, and Gonou always remained little more than a shadow, grown larger in the pale sunlight of winter.
But she was also there, also just a step behind. And sometimes Hakkai was jealous of what his shadow had that he could not.
There was a change in the air, and the Cherry Blossoms were finally breaking out on the trees. There were a thousand different shades of pink, and together, they created a strange, shifting cloud of petals. Storm clouds gathered in the distance, as spring was wont to throw storms around, as if trying to shed all remnants of winter.
There was something fundamentally different about spring rains. As a rule, Hakkai didn't care for rain, but he wouldn't allow it to dig into his bones, the way it did to Sanzo. Sanzo fancied himself emotionless and walled, but a week in his presence revealed he wasn't. Sanzo's problem wasn't that he wasn't emotionless, but that he had too much emotion—and hated himself for it.
It had not been so very long since her death, and it had been all of Hakkai's life.
As far as he knew, he didn't have a penny to his name. The fact wasn't particularly upsetting, as Sanzo had his golden card, accepted everywhere. Money had never been much of a concern to him, and he never had had much of it. It worked out well, he supposed. He had considered himself rich when he was a teacher, but that wasn't because of the salary.
There were days when it hurt a lot still, and days when it didn't hurt at all. He wasn't sure which he liked better. He was frightened that if he stopped hurting, it meant she was becoming less important. He didn't want that to happen—they had gone through so much together, and she had meant so much to him, that for her to just fade away…
…hurt almost as much as the knowledge of her being gone.
And he couldn't help but hurt sometimes, if that girl had the same color hair, or that one had the eyes. All it would take was the faintest of smells, and he'd be hit hard by some vivid memory. And it would hurt, and then he would be scared, because he had forgotten that memory before, and it was only that smell that had brought it back.
Memories of her were like the raindrops, glittering, and just as quickly leaving. He couldn't remember what her voice sounded like anymore. He couldn't remember her laughter, and had forgotten most of the movements that were unique to her. He couldn't remember the specifics of most conversations. The further they went west, and the more that time passed, the less he was left with. Already he was left with only the repeated mantras that he told himself almost every day. She held the spoon like that; she used to smile at him that certain way, twisting his heart in his chest.
"Hey, Hakkai, it looks like it's going to rain." Goku said, leaning forward. Hakkai forced a smile onto his face. He knew when his soul began to grow too dark, and now was one of those times. He nodded.
"I know, Goku."
"Are we going to get to a town soon, do you think?"
"If we're lucky." Hakkai said, simultaneously with Sanzo's "No." Goku shifted, frowning.
"I'm hungry, and we haven't stayed in a town for nights!" He whined.
"We'll get there if we can." Hakkai promised with a sigh. He glanced in his rearview mirror, and Gonou stared back at him. He gasped and averted his eyes back to the road. The important thing was to set goals—that tree with the odd branches, that lake in the distance, lined with Cherry Blossoms. He had to give himself reasons to move forward—places to achieve. "Well, then, shall we drive in the rain, or stay here for the night?" Hakkai asked with a smile when they reached the shores of the lake. It was dark, reflecting the sky, but the clouds, though black, remained untouched by flashes of lightning.
"By a lake? It's only wetter." Gojyo grumbled.
"We're not swimming! Are we?" Goku asked, bouncing in his seat a little at the thought of finally getting out. Hakkai laughed.
"Only if you want to."
They unpacked their supplies—somewhere along the way, Sanzo had finally broken down, and they'd purchased two tents. ("Four people in one tent," Sanzo explained, "means that at least three people will be unable to sleep." And then a pointed look at Goku.) They divided up as always—Hakkai and Gojyo, The Monkey and Sanzo. On days when Sanzo was particularly irritable, Goku was assigned to Gojyo's tent, and Hakkai would quietly take his place beside Sanzo.
They got a fire going just before the rain began. Sprinkles at first but as it became heavier; they were resigned to eat lukewarm canned food. Goku was fine with that—as long as he could have extras. One glance at Sanzo's face, and Hakkai knew he would be spending the evening with Sanzo, dealing with his brooding man. Hakkai caught Goku's eyes, but the boy shook his head minutely, and Hakkai was once again struck at how beyond his years Goku could be sometimes.
That night, the rain fell in soft patters against the canvass of their tents. As Hakkai slept, he remembered. Pulled into the threads of dreams and memory, he was Gonou. He was a teacher, happy in his innocence. Her soft fingers touched his face, a wan smile gracing his features. He took her into his arms.
"You are dead!" He sobbed. "I love you!" And a thousand other things he wished he had told her while she was alive. He begged her forgiveness, whispering "I'm sorry's" in a mantra—not for what he had done, but because of what he hadn't. His promised trip to the oceans, the hopes for a child—all the things that were lost to eternity's sad grasp of could've beens. He brought a shaky hand over his eyes, his sorrow swallowing him.
And her soft hand clasped in his became a rough grasp on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hakkai! Wake up! You're dreaming!" Hakkai woke with a gasp, staring into the worried eyes of Gojyo. He smiled weakly.
"It was only ever dreams," He said. "She is dead, and I am lost." He said with a hitch, bringing his hand over his eyes in a mirror of his dream self.
"He is dead, and you are here, and so am I." Gojyo said quietly. Hakkai looked at him, his mouth in a thin, unsure line. Finally he relaxed in Gojyo's grip, allowing himself to be pulled into a tight grasp.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The End
This story has been three years in the making. It is dedicated my friend Robert, who meant very much to me, and who died these four years ago. This series of stories were the first step I consciously took for moving through his death. 'Spring' has been half written for as many years, but for a long time, writing this was too painful. I've added an ending, but I left the beginning largely untouched. Those were my feelings and my pain when I wrote it, and they are important since I feel Hakkai probably feels like that, in his worst moments. The Journey to the West, for the Saiyuki boys, is as much a salve and healing for their pains as it is about conquering the evil that waits them at the end of the journey.
Unlike most of my stories, I have not had this edited. It is my most personal. I have revised bits when I occasionally visit this, and undoubtedly, I will revisit it more later.
I ended with Springs, because it is the most hopeful of the seasons.
Anyway, I know it's been a long time, but I hope that anyone that stumbles across this enjoys it.
For those of you who are fans from A Thousands Deaths—I have good news to report! The next chapter is finished, in its editing stages, and the chapter of that is more than half done.
-K. Firefly
8/13/07