Chapter 11
Hakkai took a deep breath and schooled his face into neutrality. Men in dark clothes surrounded him and Gojyo, stalking over to their bench without bothering to hide in the shadows any more—most with weapons already drawn.
"Hakkai, they have firearms!" Gojyo muttered, his voice uneasy.
"Yes," Hakkai said, willing his heart to slow down its frantic drumming. These people might have guns, but they were still mere humans. "Gojyo, listen to me," he said urgently. "Let me do all the talking. Do you understand? Do not make any sudden moves. And do not speak without being told. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but—"
One of the soldiers, obviously the leader of the group, halted directly opposite their bench and folded his arms. The others maintained their distance, some appearing to be quite nervous. "Well, well, well, and what do we have here?" the leader drawled, sparing Gojyo a glance before fixing scornful eyes on Hakkai. "A boy walking his youkai pet in the park. What a touching scene!"
Hakkai stood carefully. "Good evening, sir," he said in a calm, polite tone. "I'm Cho Hakkai. I didn't know that youkai weren't allowed—"
"—in this town?" the leader interrupted. "In this whole area? In this fucking world? Too bad, Cho Hakkai. I suppose you don't have any papers for your … friend, then?"
"No, sir," Hakkai answered placidly. "I apologize for any inconvenience that our presence might have caused you, but there were no warnings. We just—"
"There are no warnings because they aren't needed, punk," the soldier countered. "People and demons know better. And since you allegedly don't, I wonder if you aren't with the scum who raves about youkai rights and the wrongness and wickedness of our policy. Maybe you decided to make a statement against it by causing tumult on the eve of our most important holiday, eh? You aren't the first troublemaker we have here, either."
"Sir, we are travelers." Hakkai spread his arms apart with a self-depreciative smile. "We know nobody in your town and we know nothing about its policy. In truth, we did not even know of your town until we saw it from the main road. It was not my purpose, nor my companion's, to bother you in any way; we just wanted a place to spend the night before resuming our journey, first thing in the morning. Since our presence is not welcome here, we will leave."
"Oh, really?" the soldier purred, looking around. "And you like to argue, eh, punk? You like fancy words and the sound of your own voice."
"No, sir. You made a wrong assumption about us and I merely addressed the issue—"
"And you like to play the smart one, don't you, dirty punk?" The man's eyes drifted to Gojyo as he stepped back and pulled his gun from his holster. "Well, I have some news for you. You aren't going to leave so soon. And your demon isn't going anywhere anymore."
Hakkai wet his lips, cursing silently. So far, his reading of the situation had been all wrong. It would be unlikely to find himself and Gojyo a way out of such an impasse with a proper explanation—with 'fancy words.' This human was clearly in love with the petty power he held and any attempt at denying him the show he was trying to put on for his subordinates would be regarded—it was already being regarded—as a personal affront.
It was time to give the man what he wanted, then. Hakkai prayed to all the gods that Gojyo would have the common sense not to interfere and began his own act. "Sir, please, we… We didn't know. We're sorry for having…" He allowed his voice to trail off, then added in a murmur, "Oh gods, what are you going to do?"
Was it contrite enough? Frightened enough?
Apparently it was, for his opponent grunted with satisfaction. "Believe me, punk, you don't want to know what I can do." There was levity in the soldier's voice now, and Hakkai relaxed a fraction; as long as this man believed himself in charge, as long as he was asserting his authority and enjoying his own theatrics, chances were that those guns would not be fired. "Now, punk, you will shut up and speak only when I tell you to."
Hakkai almost smiled. And deliberately offered him a tidbit more. "Yes, sir, I… I'm sorry, I didn't know—"
"What part of 'you will shut up' did you not understand, punk?"
He saw the punch coming. It was slow, as human movement tended to be, and he could have evaded it if he had wished. As it was, Hakkai fell to the ground with a choked moan. Pebbles scratched his hands, a minor annoyance compared to his wounded dignity—which was also nothing, as long as his performance bought them time. Sanzo and Goku were coming; Sanzo and Goku would be here soon.
He startled when a large quantity of spit hit the ground, barely missing his face.
"There," the man bragged above him. "I'm not sure, but I suppose it's hard to recite poetry from that position."
Laughter. Beginning with the nearer soldiers, then quickly spreading to the others until the circuit was complete. Hakkai closed his eyes for a moment. Laughter was good, laughter was right—it meant that the script of this little comedy was being followed as was expected by its dangerous audience: the 'Man with the Gun' in control, the 'Punk' on the ground, humiliated…
…now, he would have to improvise and try to diminish the supporting role of the 'Youkai'—hopefully until it was cut from their little play altogether.
Gojyo changed everything. Hakkai sensed him gathering his unsteady chi, and the lethal mixture of blind fury and complete exhaustion oscillating in it made him gasp. Also, Gojyo seemed to be concentrating solely on Hakkai's attacker—a crass strategy error that a seasoned fighter like him would never commit in normal circumstances. He would not stand a chance against those weapons if he lashed out, even if he were able to kill the leader.
With a fluid movement of his whole body, Hakkai launched himself at Gojyo, toppling him from the stone bench. Fireworks shot off, closer, brighter, deafening, and he felt warmth trickling down his face. And an odd numbness.
Then, there was a crashing wave of excruciating pain and he was lost in it.
"Hakkai!"
Gojyo…
Had he called the name aloud? And why was someone screaming…
"Hakkai!"
He opened his eyes to billowing red water.
"Hakkai, please…"
Gojyo?
"Look at me. Hakkai? Come on, man, look at me!"
Gojyo.
The red water receded upwards, and Hakkai blinked, aghast. Gojyo was leaning over him. And it had been that red hair that had invaded his eyes, his nose, his open mouth. Gojyo's hair. He had been drowning in Gojyo's beautiful hair. There were worse ways of dying.
"Hakkai? Fuck!"
The swearing made him smile.
"Talk to me! Hakkai!"
He wanted to reassure Gojyo, to soothe those cries. But when he was able to focus again, there was only the sky above him, bursting in a myriad of sparkling colors. And Hakuryu's tiny head, peering down at him.
Curses and shouts reached him as if they were coming from a long distance. And the noise… That stifled noise… It sounded like… It was flesh hitting flesh.
Had he been dreaming? But the pain…
And someone was being beaten.
No, not someone.
Gojyo.
Gojyo, now calling out for…
"Sanzo! Help! Hakkai was shot! Sanzo!"
Shot?
"Damn it, Hu!" a coarser voice intruded. "Make that demon shut its fucking mouth! Mou, are you out of your mind? Why did you fire?"
"I'm sorry, Sergeant, I—I thought…"
And whose voices are those?
"Shove it, you idiot! How am I going to explain another fucking dead man to the captain?"
Hakkai gasped. Reality swirled one last time, then righted itself on its dreadful axis. The town. The soldiers. He had been shot. And while he was lying on his back, staring ahead at dazzling pyrotechnics in the sky, his blood soaked the pebbled pathway of a park. As for Gojyo…
"Sanzo! Hakkai's hurt! He needs you! Sanzo!"
"Kill it, Sergeant! Just kill this thing!"
Stifling a moan, Hakkai strove to his knees and lifted a shaking hand to the gash at his left temple. Shot, indeed. The bullet had grazed his head—which meant that luck had not abandoned them completely. Hakuryu looked up at him with concern, hissed, and turned around, ready to help Gojyo.
"No," Hakkai slurred, holding the dragon back by a wing. "Stay here. They're not interested in you. Don't give … don't give them reasons… Please, Hakuryu."
Hakuryu let out a cry of protest, but crept to his hiding place under the bench.
"Sanzo!" Gojyo shouted again, desperate. "You son of a bitch, Hakkai is hurt!"
Hakkai managed to raise his head. A group of men had Gojyo by his legs, arms, and hair. The kappa struggled like a wild thing, snarling and trying to bite whatever came within reach of his mouth. The kicks and punches that showered upon him only made him more frantic, like a cornered animal. The resemblance to Changed youkai was appalling—as were the exhortations to "Shoot the demon" circulating among the soldiers.
"Gojyo, stop this!" Hakkai's raspy appeal was neither loud nor well articulated. It drew some eyes to him, though. More importantly, it drew a pair of red eyes to his. Stop, please, he begged mutely. Gojyo, you are hurting yourself. You are only hurting yourself!
Gojyo sagged in his captors' clutches, panting. One of the soldiers hoisted him up with a jerk on his bad arm and lodged a gun against his neck. Gojyo just stared at Hakkai the whole time, and the question in those frenzied eyes did not have to be voiced to be understood: Are you okay?
Hakkai nodded, ignoring the stabbing, crippling pain that even such a small movement caused. "Do not fight them, Gojyo,"he breathed out. Please, do not let them hurt you any further.
"It seems you've trained your pet demon well, boy."
Hakkai blinked owlishly and turned his head a little to the left. The leader was coming towards him again, at a leisurely pace. "You're hard to kill, huh?" the man taunted, reaching out to grab a handful of Hakkai's hair. Hakkai whimpered, nauseated. "Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, punk. Come on, I'm right up here." And he snapped his fingers in front of Hakkai's face until he was sure he had Hakkai's undivided attention. "I'm Sergeant Chen Dan. Repeat that to me."
"Sergeant… Sergeant Chen Dan," Hakkai whispered, almost passing out from pain.
"That's right, punk. Very good. And now you see me…" With a vicious jerk, Chen Dan took off Hakkai's monocle. "Now you see me not."
For a moment believing that the sergeant had plucked his glass eye out, Hakkai uncoordinatedly tried to capture that hand. Volleys of loud laughter went round and he froze, aghast, when another sound registered. Were the humans … clapping?
"Not so smart now, eh, punk?" Chen Dan whispered in Hakkai's ear. Then, a yell: "Hey, Mou! You missed, you fucking idiot! If this punk were a youkai you would be dead now!"
Hakkai squinted at his surroundings. It seemed that they had attracted quite an audience. Over him, Chen Dan basked in their approval, smiling and nodding. The sergeant then tightened his grip on Hakkai's hair, hauling him up to his feet—and all Hakkai could do was fight to keep the darkness at bay. Not that the light was better… It did hurt! Everything just hurt.
He tried to cover his eyes, but someone had him firmly by his wrists, fastening them. "Gojyo," he panted, "please, don't do this to him. His arm … injured—" Unbearable pain exploded once more and he blacked out for a moment. He came to hanging from his captors' arms, vomiting.
"I told you, punk," Chen Dan said, sounding quite amused. "You will shut that fucking trap of yours. Got it? Okay, come on, men. Let's get this trash to the place it belongs."
"Sergeant, and the other two? Lieutenant Yao said four—"
"Oh, thank you so much for the math class, Mou! Now, let's see, the lieutenant himself told me that he just wanted the youkai. The punk here is only a bonus. Did I answer your question?"
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry. I just—"
"You'll be sorrier, you idiot. Because you are the one who is going to explain to Yao-sama how this punk came to be acquainted with one of your bullets."
Hakkai was only vaguely aware of being dragged across the park. There were voices, voices that cursed and cheered, and strange faces coming in and out of focus. He felt a keen pain on his torso and looked down in time to see a small object falling onto the ground. Someone had hurled something—a stone?—at him.
"Hey, Mou!" Chen Dan's boisterous voice pierced the air again. "That little boy has better aim than you!"
They halted at a long stone stairway. At its end, soldiers on horses and a small wagon awaited them.
"Fuck, Sergeant, it's a pity these two won't get what they deserve right now. What does the captain want with this demon? It would be easier—"
"Shut up, Mou."
Gojyo was shoved forward and Hakkai screamed, thinking that they were going to throw him down all those steps. It would be a fatal plunge. The soldiers laughed uproariously and during their descent continued their game of threatening to push Gojyo to his death.
There was nothing that Hakkai could do to prevent this, nothing at all, so he started praying silently. But not to the gods, who had never heard him anyway.
Please, Sanzo, come! Please, Sanzo, come and help us!