Chapter 38

Expecting a trap at any moment, Sanzo had pushed open the double doors and stepped into the Colonel's office with extreme caution. A look at the center of the room, though, and his concentration was shattered by an overwhelming, distracting surge of relief.

Gojyo was indeed here. Alone.

Then, other details began to set in and Sanzo balled his fists. After dealing with this town's peculiar fauna—from Zhou Jun to the old major to Xie Dewei to the freakish Colonel—he had thought that there was no lower level to be reached in this pit. Yet, Gojyo proved him wrong: the kappa lounged at a generously set table … buried to his nose in one of those damned dark jackets.

Playing with his cigarette smoke.

Incredulous, Sanzo stared at him. Gojyo tensed and jerked his head in Sanzo's direction, opening and closing his mouth several times without emitting a sound—a reaction that would have been comical in other circumstances. Now, all Sanzo could do was suppress the urge to lunge at him and shake him until his teeth rattled. Shake him until his teeth fell out.

"Sanzo?" Gojyo spluttered, finally breaking the charged silence. "Is—is that you? I have… I was… Are you real? Are you here?"

"I suppose I am," Sanzo said coldly. "Unless you want to discuss philosophy and some of its more radical proposals?"

Gojyo furrowed his brows, not understanding the jibe—as Sanzo knew he would not. Subtle remarks always flew right over Gojyo's head without disturbing a single strand of his red hair. His beautiful red hair, Sanzo corrected, angry with himself for caring about such an inane thing, even when reasserting, for the umpteenth time, Gojyo's embarrassing lack of intellect. And why did he have to feel disappointed every time that happened? Hakkai was the one who could offer him a good verbal spar.

"Hakkai!" Gojyo said abruptly, and Sanzo started at having the name of the youkai he had shielded his mind with reverberating around the hall. "Sanzo, is Hakkai… Is he…"

"Yes!" Sanzo hissed when it became clear that Gojyo would not complete his question. Of course Hakkai was also here; Hakkai had no common sense whatsoever where Gojyo was concerned. Sanzo tilted his chin up, trying to ignore his confused jealousy. So, Gojyo 'wanted' Hakkai? Too bad. He would have to content himself with Sanzo instead.

"I… I don't know what to say," Gojyo muttered, his voice breaking.

"Nothing new there, is it?" Sanzo retorted with wicked satisfaction.

"How... Were you—were you with him?"

"Yes." Sanzo raised one eyebrow at the sob-like whimper he got for an answer and studied the bottles on the table suspiciously. Fuck, was the cursed kappa already, or, most likely, still drunk? Every time Gojyo prolonged his nightly indulgences he became overemotional.

"It should be me," Gojyo stammered. "It should…"

This sentence was not continued, either, and Sanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Have you finished?" he demanded, exasperated.

Gojyo stared stupidly at him.

"Your breakfast," Sanzo growled in a low, acid tone. "Far beit from me to hurry you up or anything, though; let's keep setting our pace at your convenience, why not? I've only been running around after you since the day before yesterday and I've only been waiting for you in this fucking place since last night. Of course I can wait until you finish your booze and your cigarette, why not?"

Gojyo widened his eyes and dropped his cigarette as if it had burned his fingers. "Last night?" he asked, sounding surprised. "You were here?"

"No, Gojyo." The name was spat like a foul word. "I was there. Right there."

"What?"

"The Colonel invited me to watch your performance together," Sanzo elaborated, allowing just the right inkling of sheer contempt to creep into his voice. "Not that I hadn't seen the same hentai show before," he added.

Gojyo widened his eyes. "You—you weren't there," he said slowly, shaking his head. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Sanzo remarked, too wrought out to deal with a drunken demon after everything he had already gone through. "You know, it doesn't matter. It's over anyway; I've had enough. This fucking mess took the prize. So, congratulations, Gojyo; you're off my team."

The announcement did not have the desired effect. Gojyo did not start babbling frantic promises of remission nor the tearful apologies that would have appeased Sanzo to a certain degree—and, perhaps, lead him to reconsider his decision. Gojyo merely stared.

"The door… The door was closed!" he insisted. "You—you didn't come! I called and I waited and you didn't come!"

"Unlike you, who did," Sanzo retorted, annoyed to no end at Gojyo's perplexed expression. Perhaps he should draw pictures so the dumb youkai could understand?

Then, Gojyo's choice of words sunk in.

'I called.'

'I waited.'

'You didn't come.'

What the fuck?

"You—you were there?" Shakily, groping around for balance, Gojyo gained his feet. "You saw what he did, and yet… How could you?"

Sanzo glared at Gojyo. Should he not be the party demanding responses in this exchange? Though a creepy feeling began to make his stomach churn.

'I called.'

'I waited.'

'You didn't come.'

Behind him there was a hint of a ghostly laughter—low, derisive laughter that disappeared as soon as he touched the scriptures.

"You son of a bitch!" Gojyo stuttered, his face almost as red as his hair. "You cruel, petty son of a fucking bitch!"

The yelled accusation hung in the air for a long while.

"You're angry at the wrong man," Sanzo said icily. "Not my fault that your lovers, like yourself, have an exhibitionist trait. Besides… Better to be the son than the fucking bitch, don't you agree?"

Gojyo let out a growl, fumbling awkwardly inside the dark jacket he had on his shoulders. Sanzo watched his uncoordinated movements with disdain before tilting his head upwards to pop his stiff neck. Gods, what were they still doing here, exchanging insults like two schoolboys? True, Gojyo always brought forth his worst and his darkest, but what could justify such a ridiculous scene? He had to assemble his youkai and leave—leave as fast as they could. Whatever there was to be discussed with his demons—even with this demon in particular—could very well wait. "Listen, I…" he started, then trailed off. Gojyo had found what he had been looking for in the jacket, now discarded on the floor. And his arm… His left arm… Stunned by the sight, it took Sanzo a while to register the item that the kappa had in his good hand.

A gun.

Trained on him.

Gojyo bared his teeth in a monkey-like rictus. "You know, he told me to point this gun at the source of my problems. Well, guess what, Sanzo? That's you! You are the source of my problems!"

Sanzo clicked his tongue, unimpressed. "Your lover gave you a gun and told you to kill me?"

"He isn't my lover!" Gojyo roared. "Don't say he is my lover!"

"Answer my question, youkai!"

Gojyo snorted. "Kill you? Ah, I see. The universe revolves around your navel, so, of course, this is about you!"

His eyes drifting to that mangled arm, Sanzo refrained from commenting further. Unfortunately, the evidence indicated that 'this' was indeed about himself, regardless of Gojyo's outraged hysteria. The Colonel's unexpected retreat made sense now—the man had clearly manipulated all the elements to force a confrontation. Perhaps having one of the gods' chosen ones killing the gods' Chosen One would prove to him that he had incontestably 'won' the game he had been playing. Perhaps he believed that his staged little drama would attract the gods' attention to this place and to himself.

Perhaps 'this' was some kind of sick joke.

"Why, Sanzo?" Gojyo whined, wiping his sweaty face on the back of his right hand—the hand that held the gun. The left one hung by his side, useless, very swollen. Sanzo cringed slightly in sympathy; the pain must be agonizing. "Why do you have to be such a heartless dick?"

"Gojyo—"

"Now you call me by my name? Now?" Gojyo wobbled, almost dropping the weapon. "Do I have to point a gun at you to be treated with respect? You fucker!"

Enough was enough. Taking advantage of Gojyo's erratic state, Sanzo drew his own gun. "All right. Put that thing down."

Gojyo laughed convulsively, unconcerned.

"I won't tell you again, Gojyo." Sanzo tightened the grip on his gun handle. "Put that fucking thing down."

"No," Gojyo drawled defiantly. "Do you hear me? The answer is No. It's No, Sanzo. No, no, no, no, no—" And Gojyo raised his voice childishly until the entire hall screamed his denial along with him.

Sanzo cursed under his breath, caressing the trigger. He did not want to alert the soldiers outside about his being armed, but if Gojyo did not shut up… Buddha, if the stupid kappa did not shut up… Sanzo aimed right at Gojyo's mouth and, despite exhaustion, there was an interested stirring between his legs.

Gojyo's mouth.

Those white, even teeth. Those lush lips—hurt lush lips… Sanzo was paradoxically so focused on them and so distracted by them that it took him a while to note that they were no longer moving. "I don't feel like dragging your carcass downhill," he said, breaking the silence that once more vibrated in the hall. "But I will shoot you if I have to."

"You won't shoot me so you won't have any trouble?" came the slurred reply. "Okay!"

"Gojyo, this is neither the place nor the time to be difficult. Fuck, man, think! I can't—"

"Neither can I, Sanzo." The title-turned-into-name was spoken softly, a mixture of helplessness and grief. "I can't think anymore."

Sanzo bit back the answer that such a statement deserved—anger and sarcasm might be easier to brandish but definitely would not break this impasse. Gojyo was too drunk or too ill, or both, to react as he usually did. Taking a deep breath, Sanzo decided for a much more difficult course of action: to reach out. He had to reach out and pull Gojyo from whatever abyss the Colonel had pushed him into.

It would be impossible to do so with a gun in his hands.

"Why did you have to come here?" Gojyo rasped miserably. "I was ready to go—to go to Hakkai. I wanted to go to Hakkai—"

Already sorting out what he would allow himself to say, Sanzo angled his gun to stash it back under his breastplate. The sudden explosion was deafening. He locked his eyes with Gojyo's, who was frozen in shock. Then, pain registered.

Awful, unbearable pain. Pressing his chest. Constraining his breathing.

Gojyo seemed to grow bigger, but somehow Sanzo managed not to break eye contact. He was on his knees now, though he did not remember going down.

"Sanzo?"

The sunlight that filtered through the ceiling dazzled his eyes, and Sanzo blinked to clear his blurring vision. Was he crying? Why was he crying? He squinted down. There was light, there was salty water, there was … blood. He was bleeding.

Gojyo had shot him.

The son of a bitch.

"I'm sorry," Gojyo blabbered away, frantic. "Sanzo, I—"

…called…

"I can't—I can't think straight, Sanzo. I—"

…waited…

"—thought you were going to shoot me. Please, Sanzo, you—"

…didn't come.

"—okay? Sanzo? You—"

"—didn't have the right to commit any more mistakes," Sanzo finished for him, or tried to. The cacophony of enraged male voices and stomping boots should be louder than that. And the spectral murmur that leaked from the very core of this building should be lower. Weightless, he floated between two worlds as Gojyo stared back at him from his side of the margin.

Sanzo knew he had to go to him. The soldiers would be closing in on them by now, those dangerous youkai-hating soldiers—and what was the punishment for a demon who attacked a priest in this town?—so he had to stand and go to Gojyo and protect his teammate.

The rest was … unimportant.

But as every sound dimmed into crushing silence, as every image except for Gojyo's faded away in a frozen, timeless Nothing, Sanzo could only look into sad red eyes. They were thus connected when Gojyo raised the gun he still held and inserted it into his own mouth. Sanzo wanted to scream, wanted to jump at him and pry the weapon from his hand, but his body seemed made of lead. In impotent horror, he merely watched when Gojyo, tears streaming down, closed his eyes, and so cutting their link, pulled the trigger.

End of Part II