Of Birth and Death and Back Again
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Summary: A long and arduous dream of waiting to be freed that was worth five lifetimes, all of which Goku had to struggle with every day.
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A/N: I keep rewatching Goku's Chapter in Saiyuki Burial, and I realized that Goku, when calm, can be as mature and wise as his title indicates.
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"I who say you are a dream am also a dream. Such is my tale. It will likely be called preposterous, but after ten thousand generations, there may be a great sage who will be able to explain it, a trivial interval equivalent to the passage from morning to night." - Zhuangzi
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I have never met anyone in my life since I opened my eyes to an empty sky and a cold, dark cage of stone, but I have been meeting a man in my dreams for years.
No matter how long time passed, every time I closed my eyes, there was no doubt, my head would be filled with dreams for a man I have never met.
In my dreams, I was happy with this man, I was laughing, and he, smiling softly as we walked in an aimless path, often holding hands, and often talking. There were also nights where we wouldn't talk, but accompanied by him and me sitting under a tree, and he would whisper things to me, and I would laugh, and he would smile. This man was tall, way taller than me. He had an unfriendly aura, with that constant frown, and those sad, sad, violet eyes—
—and that hair. Oh, that hair—!
It blinded me—he had long hair, shining and swaying under the sun. I longed to touch it in my dreams, but I never could—
—he always died in my dreams before I could even touch his face.
The terror would always come in small doses—the aimless path would disappear, and we would sit by a tree, and every time my hand reached out to him, his face that had been etched in my mind, would be devoured in flames. His body would be covered in flames as he sat with me.
He neither moved nor screamed an ounce of pain, and simply sat there with parted lips and eyes springing tears as he looked at me in the eye—
—and I, in turn, would jump into the fire, embracing him without words, and die with him.
I'd always wake up feeling my body up, seeing nothing but the gray of the cave, and I would cry until my eyelids would feel sticky from the tears sliding to my face. My heart would always feel heavy, like it existed only for the purpose of squeezing the life out of me.
I wanted to call out to this man, but I never knew his name.
Many moons passed by, and the dream of him and I burning to death was ingrained in my memory. The only dreams I had were my memories, and felt heavier than the ball and chain I have been tied to for as long as I could remember. My dreams became a part of me, and I would mull over them for as long as I could, reliving the happy and the sad melded together—
My fingers curled around the rough and stoned bars, and I rested my head there, feeling a familiar nudge of something cold and heavy against my brow.
I wanted to take it off and see what it was, but just the thought of doing so made me wince—
—I walked back to the far back of the small cave, laid down with my body curled, and I wrapped my long hair around me, in a futile effort to keep warm—
I thought of that man, burning in my dreams for how many moons, and I cried myself to sleep for another dream of us dying.
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The nights where the man died in my dreams ceased in time, and there I was left with many dreamless nights. Once, I woke up, and felt empty, like something was ripped from me, and I had forgotten about it.
I didn't know what to do, and so I sat there with my knees to my chin, my toes playing with the bits of rough stones and sand.
I didn't sleep for a few nights, because I couldn't help but long for the dreams to return. The parts where I smiled and laughed with him, talking to me in a voice that I couldn't remember, and words that slipped passed me—
I longed to be with that man, even if I could never touch him.
He could only be with me in my dreams, and I was content with just that.
I felt my eyes drooping to a close, and I laid down on the cold ground, and felt the small beginnings of a smile—
"I want to meet you again..."
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The man chased me in my sleep.
In it, he made no noise, just like he had always been—he would open his mouth, speak words I could never hear, and this time, he made movements, wide and frantic, his arm stretched out to me, fingers long and pale spread out, trembling as he ran—
His piercing, violet eyes which have always looked sorrowful, downcast even with the presence of his smiles I have grown to love, were wide, their corners damp with the tears that have been my companion on many nights.
In my sleep, I stood still, unmoving as he ran towards me. I wanted to move, but I couldn't. Helpless, I watched him.
I have never seen him this way—terrified of something that I couldn't comprehend. He cried in my sleep, screaming, I supposed, from the way his throat bobbed and his mouth hung open. I saw his teeth, gritting—and more tears came—
He was close, his fingertips just at arm's length. And I held out my heavy, yet all too willing hand to him on instinct, my fingers trembling with the same way as his did.
I heard myself gasp for the first time, when our fingertips almost touched, and he was snatched back, his running form retreating into the darkness seeping to his skin and flesh, his eyes wide and crying, his arm still outstretched to me, his mouth open in mid-scream—
I heard myself choking in my dream, and realized I was awake when I saw the familiar, stoned ceilings greeting me, its sight slapping me into full consciousness along with the arm that I had stretched out from sleep and into reality, reminding me that I was alone in the silence of the night.
The beginnings of a tear formed and slid to my temples, to my ears, to my hair, as I looked at the shackles that bound my wrists—
—and I covered my face, trying and failing to muffle my loud cries behind shaking palms. And when I realized no one was around to hear me, I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes instead, drowning myself in my unending and resounding lament, with only the walls of the cave as my indifferent spectator.
The days passed by like this, with him disappearing just before our fingers could touch.
I turned to the side, facing the stoned walls, and huddled with my knees almost close to my nose—
—I placed my finger to my lips, the one that almost touched his, and felt my body become heavier with my cries.
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Today, after many moons, long after my dreams of that man disappearing all over again in my sleep, I saw a tiny animal flying in the wide blue sky, and it made me wonder—
"I want to fly, too…"
And I laughed, hollow and ringing empty to my ears, as another tear fell.
Odd, I thought that by now, I would have ran out of these drops of water from my eyes.
Leaning on the stoned bars riddled with odd pieces of red papers, I tried to make sense of the stranger black things on them, and decided it was meaningless to try and understand it.
I sniffled, and felt my almost constant loneliness flow away for the time being.
Closing my eyes in hopes of sleeping and reliving my dreams—I thought of how long it had been since I dreamed, and I couldn't remember, much like anything else. Why I was here, or why I was stuck to the ground with these heavy things on my arms and feet.
I was close to falling asleep when I heard a strange sound to my left—shrill, and continuous.
Upon opening my eyes, there was the strange animal flying from before, standing in front of me with its too tiny legs, looking at me with quick tilts of its head. A little bird with yellow fur, small, black eyes, and a voice that sent the first rush of happiness to my crying self, greeted me. It hopped around, looking at me for a while, and, when it groomed its feathers for a bit, hopped inside and cheeped.
It was the first time I experienced happiness in my waking hours, and in joy, I held out my palm to him, taking notice of my trembling fingertips and my rather long nails for the first time, and I hoped it would not scare this bird away—
I felt my cheeks stretch into a smile for the very first time, and felt crying all over again—but I stopped mid-sniff, and laughed instead. I didn't want to scare it.
So I closed my four fingers instead, and held out a finger to it, nodding all the while as it looked at me and my finger, and back. And when it hopped on my hand, I held back another happy cry—
I didn't know you could cry feeling happy, I thought crying was for sadness. I didn't feel sad, but I felt like crying as the bird chirped and hopped from my hand to my arm, to my shoulder, to the top of my head—and it flew around me, and, thinking that it might fly away, I felt a rush of cold from the inside, wrapping me in another sob—
But the bird didn't go away. It merely flew around me, chirping, and it danced in front of me with its little legs and little wings, its tail swaying in time with its small hops.
I placed my hands together, cupping them, and placed them on the ground, and I bit my lower lip, grinning, as the bird hopped into my palms and burrowed itself there, shaking its tiny tail all the while. It chirruped and closed its eyes, and a sound escaped my lips, a little laugh, as I stared at the soft fluff of feathers on the bird's chest.
My toes curled and uncurled in excitement as I looked around the cage and tried to move into a comfortable sitting position without disturbing the little bird in my hands. But I didn't dare move my arms in fear of startling the bird, and so I sat there, waiting, watching the faint rise and fall of its body, the faint draft ruffling the soft feathers—
Before I knew it, I had already placed my lips on its head, smiling, and the bird opened its eyes and cheeped. "Sorry," I said, the word falling from my lips on instinct, and it replied with another chirrup, another wag of its tail, and returned to sleep.
All the while, I wondered, if the bird also dreamed of many things.
The bird splayed its wings, its tips tapping my thumbs, and I smoothed them on its back, and laughed upon seeing it expose its neck with an almost smile on its beak. It gave me another cheep, and nestled its head on the heel of my palm.
And for the first time in my many days in this cage, I was happy.
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I could never go outside with the tiny animal I came to call my friend, but it didn't mean I couldn't play with it.
Most of the time I let it hop wherever it wanted to on my arms during the day. There were also times when it would take bits of my hair in its beak and pull on it, as if it were some of the leaves on the trees.
At night, however, it would fly away—to return to its family, I suppose, but I couldn't tell. Were birds supposed to leave their families?
I felt a twinge in my chest I haven't felt for a long while, and I tried clutching my clothes, in hopes of easing the pain away.
It didn't.
A choke escaped my lips, and I sniffled and wept in silence at a sudden flash of a hazy memory, wracking my mind into confusion as I heard booming voices in my head—laughing in carefree whoops, in cautious care, and in a faint snort that echoed in my ears. I opened my mouth and formed words that didn't know how—I longed to call someone, but no one ever came—
The sound of chirping brought me back to my senses, and I saw the little bird with a branch in its beak, and it hopped into the cave and placed the branch with white flowers at my feet.
And my days were filled with days like this, filling my once empty cage with piles of tiny sticks with budding, sometimes full bloomed, flowers, filling the air with wondrous smells of these beautiful things—and they wilted over time, but the bird would always return to me with a new branch in tow, and I gathered these small gifts, placing them in a corner of my cage in a pile as neat as I could—
The bird even sometimes gave me something to eat, be it a tiny peel, a leaf, a berry—
But I always refused with a shake of my head—not knowing whether the bird understood me or not—and always let the bird eat its gifts for me, as sad as I was to admit it.
I had no appetite to eat, and so I didn't eat, and often watched the bird watch me back with scrutiny. It cheeped, hopped around, and pecked on the little gifts with a small flutter of its wings, as though it was happy of the treats it had taken from the forest—
Today, however, the bird thought it was a good idea to perch on my knee tucked to my chin, and butted its head to my nose.
I giggled and smiled through my inner battles filled with tears.
And just like that, I felt happy and content with the little companion by my side.
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There were days when it was really hot, like today, and the sun, though I always longed for its warmth and light, seemed to blind and burn me, and yet, I stayed close to the stoned bars, my skin eager to feel its scorching rays—
It was all I could do to keep myself from crying, I thought, and I didn't know why. For a moment, I felt complete, here in my cage, curling up under the sunrays, wishing for my little friend to return.
My eyes felt heavy, and, try as I might to keep them open, the warmth of the sun soothed me into a dreamless slumber, and I felt my lips tugging upwards as I laid in wait.
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Long after the sun had been high in the sky, I woke up and found myself on the ground in a state of confusion upon hearing the lack of sound. The air was void of life under the sun that was about to set. I assumed them hiding from the sun's angry heat, and I cringed.
What if—
I felt a wave of coldness seep into me as I looked at the back of the cave, at the pile of branches and dead flowers and leaves gathered there—and I whirled around, deaf to the sound of the chain on my ankle rustling against the stone—
—and my insides rattled against my bones, felt all of them hammer against my ribs and my stomach, my screams bubbling to flow from my chapped lips—
My friend, my tiny, lively friend, laid on its side under the searing sun, unmoving, even as I told it to wake up.
"No… Please… No…"
And then, I heard it.
A faint chirp from my little companion.
"Ah…! Come. Come here, please…!"
But even if I called, the bird never moved. It remained there, silent—
Lifeless.
A cry was torn from my insides as I clawed the ground, fighting against my unyielding prison, my hands trying, wanting, to at least hold the bird in my hands for a final time—
"I won't run away from here, I promise… Just let me hold him. Even just a touch will be fine. Even just a touch will be fine…!"
I felt blood seeping through my now cracked and chipped nails, I felt a warm trickle of something drip from the sides of my face, my flesh scraping, fighting in between the pillar of stones—
I banged my head on the stones as a last resort, hoping the thing around my skull would be enough to smash these bars even just a bit. It didn't.
"Don't leave me—!"
I wailed as I bowed and clawed and banged against the ground, hoping to die the same way my little friend did.
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A long time seemed to pass as I slept and woke in an aimless cycle.
I have seen my only friend die, have watched and wailed and screamed as other, bigger birds preyed on the remains.
And I often found myself lying splayed on the ground, one hand always open towards the light of the sun—
The bouts of sadness that I thought have left me returned tenfold every time I looked at the setting sun. I remembered the songs the tiny, yellow bird used to sing to me, its tiny hops and its quick, tilts of the head—everything. And I sobbed in silence—
For the first time, crying felt like a constant to me, and I wondered—
"…I could live with this from now on."
The cold wind touched my skin as a reply, and I wrapped myself in my hair as much as I could, frowning when even my hair felt cold to the touch.
I wept to sleep, hoping to meet my little friend in my dreams once more.
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I dreamed I was curled up on the ground, and heard of a sound that I have never heard before. It was loud, like a scream unlike my own, and it sent shivers to my bones.
I should be frightened, I supposed, but I didn't feel such a thing.
I heard it again, louder, ringing against my ears, and yet—
I felt at ease, calm and in peace, and for the first time in a long while, I felt the stab of pain in my heart disappearing, its familiar jolts of tearing me from the inside out flowing away each time that loud sound pierced my hearing.
In my dream, I walked an aimless path, the ground beneath my roughened feet soft and damp against my soles—and I stopped in the middle of the soft ground, and saw a familiar face—
The man in my dreams returned to me, smiling at me with an outstretched hand.
I froze, and the blur between the dream and reality in my mind seemed to disappear. The longer I looked at him, the stronger I realized that the man looked much tangible—his long hair remained the same golden hue, his frown ever present on his pale face, and his eyes—
Oh. His sad, yet beautiful, beautiful eyes—!
Without thinking, I ran towards the man, sobbing and screaming something I couldn't understand—and I jumped, almost yelling an apology when I saw his frown deepen—!
My face hit something hard, yet it didn't feel painful. Just when I thought I had done something wrong, I felt his arms wrap around me—
—and just like that, I cried.
Hugging him tighter, I buried my face on his chest, wailing words I couldn't even understand. I felt them tumble from my lips, my sentences barely understandable as my shoulders shook to no end.
I felt him pull away from me, and I looked up through my tears, and he patted my head, feeling his thumb smooth over my hair—
He opened his mouth, smiling, as a tear fell on my cheek—
—I woke up feeling empty inside, and realized I had my hands wrapped around my shoulders.
"Again—I'm alone…"
I sniffled, felt the beginnings of my usual wave of tears, and noticed that they couldn't come out no matter how hard I tried. I closed my eyes and tried to remember everything that I could—his hair, his face, his smile, his arms—
—I remembered all of them, except for his voice.
I couldn't remember his voice.
"I forgot him again."
My nails dug into my shoulders until I felt them scrape against my flesh, and I hugged myself, thinking I was hugging him once more.
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My days and nights became filled with dreams once more, and in them, I was happy, happier than I have ever been in my dreams. I was with him, I could touch him in my dreams, feel his face in my hands without the fear of him dying in a fire, hold him close without the fear of him disappearing into the darkness, of him dying before me in a loop of eternity—
In my sleep, he held me to his chest, uttering no words, only smiling down at me, stroking my hair, and patting my head—
During those dreams, I felt happy, and I have been waking up with a small smile on my face, wishing it would never end. I longed for a name to call this man in my dreams, but found none that would fit him—and so I called him my sun, after seeing his long, bright hair that resembled the sun's rays.
I was content to be by his side in my sleep, content in seeing him walk about, close to me, as he spoke of words that I couldn't hear nor understand.
And yet, as I held his hand and walked down another aimless path, I felt calmer and calmer, and every time he sat down, I would follow, and hug him tight until I wake up to hugging my knees close to my chest.
I felt lonely, but not so much—
As long as I was with him, even in my dreams alone, everything would be fine, I thought.
In his mere presence, I was happy, and that was the only thing that mattered.
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I woke up from another pleasant dream, but this time, my awakening was coupled with the sight of a large flock of birds flying in the morning sky, all of them scattered in different directions, revealing themselves from the large trees in the forest.
Curious, I crawled over to the bars of stone, squeezing my face in between the roughness, trying my hardest to get a glimpse of what was happening.
Animals were never in scattered into disarray, that much I could tell from all the days I spent looking at them from afar.
I waited, stared at the sky and the tops of the trees until I blinked, and saw nothing more. Frowning, I rested my forehead against the bars, and felt a rush of sorrow fill me whole.
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The cool, night wind felt cold to my skin, and so I hid most of my back behind the metal ball that had been a part of my shackles for many days, willing myself to sleep and meet the man in my dreams once more.
But when I did, I felt something wrong.
The man wasn't in my dreams.
There, I was alone, and I ran around the dark, my feet stepping on the damp ground. I tried to yell, but I didn't know his name. And so I looked around in earnest despite the darkness around me, walking around trying to find him.
And when I did, I felt like dying all over again.
He was lying on his back, still and unmoving, even as I held his face close to my chest.
I felt empty once more as I embraced him, rocking myself and him back and forth—
The tears I had become so used to shedding wouldn't fall, even as his lifeless body slowly disappeared in my hold, leaving only golden dust scattering away from my fingertips.
I woke up crying and screaming in the night, clutching my fists to my chest, wishing, and wanting to die from the pain.
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The days and nights flew past my head, and everything fell to how it used to be. Dreams and reality blurring into something I couldn't understand—
—and throughout all of them, that sad, beautiful man had been with me.
I drew back into the darkest part of the cage, hiding away from the sun I had been fond of, feeling both nothing and everything all the same.
I wanted to hide forever, if it meant avoiding all loneliness—
I wanted to hide forever, and yet I couldn't.
The sun began to rise, and I wanted to bury my face in the ground, but found myself unable to do so.
In my want to shy away from the rays of the sun, I placed my face on my knees, hoping to see nothing more of the day, but then—
Someone called out to me, to me, who had been calling out for so long.
I crawled on all fours towards the bars, clutching them in my blood-clotted hands, with my eyes wide and my heart leaping inside my ribs. I called out back, louder, louder in my head, crying at most, with the tears unable to shed from my eyes—
"Hurry up, come and find me. Please…"
And I waited, and waited, and days went past me, and I felt losing hope all over again.
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I stayed hidden from the sun that I loved, and yet, I refused to let it die from me—the small hope of having someone call me back.
I heard something shifting from the ground, from somewhere where I couldn't see. I grew curious, and yet I stayed hidden in the dark.
Maybe a new animal had found itself lost. Maybe they could be my friend.
My shoulders shook in a hollow laugh, thinking it was impossible.
They would die if they met me anyway, so why bother?
I swallowed back my choked sobs about to spill from me, and I was about to close my eyes when I heard a voice—
"Hey, were you the one who's been calling me?"
My eyes, tired and heavy from all the crying I have been doing, lifted up from the ground, and looked at the thing that spoke to me from the other side of my cage.
A person. A real, live person.
But no, what if it was another dream? A trick of the light? Yes, that was it.
I was in another dream.
And so, in my sadness and wanting to feel relief, I asked the first thing that came to mind, "I didn't call for anyone. Who are you?"
In reply, his frown deepened, and I swore I heard a snort.
He spoke words I couldn't understand—he told me I have been calling out to him in an annoying voice, but I couldn't remember doing that. It had to be a lie.
I convinced myself that, and stared at him with tired, heavy eyes, and he stared back, looking at me with a sad, yet beautiful violet eyes, and only then did I notice a soft light behind him, his hair shining under the light of the sun that I loved.
My lips parted, and I fell into a loss of words as my heart stopped for a moment too long.
"I'll take you with me," he started, holding out his hand to me, "since I don't seem to have any other choice."
The bars that have been my walls and prison disappeared as his hand slipped inside the cage, and in my lack of thought, I placed my hand onto his, and he took me out from the darkness.
And for the first time, I stepped out from my cage and into the light, and felt warmth from the hand that held mine in a touch familiar to me, like a distant memory from long ago.
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When the man who took me out from the cage, Sanzo, announced to the other monks that I would be staying with him in the temple, I was overjoyed, to the point that I followed him everywhere he went, always staying close by his side.
He had a raging temper, judging from our first meeting alone, but still, he never shunned me away from his side, and I was happy with that.
He gave me clothes to wear, food to eat, a dog to play with, and he bathed me and took care of me in his own, grumpy way, and gave me the entire world to see—
He gave me everything, and for that, I couldn't express myself aside from crying in joy every night.
It bothered him, to say the least, and asked me if I was always like that, crying at everything.
"I guess," I replied, unsure of myself. And I felt my grin falling when I saw him stare at me with a frown. "What?" I asked, and my toes curled behind my backside as I sat in front of his desk in his office. I squirmed as I sat on the floor, shying away from his eyes.
Please don't hate me, I wanted to say, but couldn't.
"Do you know how to read?" he asked, and I blinked, and shook my head in response.
He sighed, and placed his odd feather with black tips in a tiny, black bottle. Looking away from me, he hummed, and clicked his tongue every now and then.
"Was it something I said?" I blurted out without hesitation. He looked at me, his eyes wide and blinking, and I continued, "If I did something wrong, just tell me. I don't want to make you mad…!"
"And what makes you think I'm mad?"
Shaking my head, I bowed, and refused to meet his eyes. I bit my lip and made little circles on the floor with my trimmed nails, berating myself for saying such a thing. Maybe he would be mad. Maybe he would leave me again. Maybe—
"Hey, come here."
Stopping my thoughts, I looked up from the floor, and saw him with his hand held out to me. On instinct, I stood and went over to him, wiggling my toes in each step. Would he be mad?
I stopped in front of his desk, biting my lip as I looked away.
"I didn't mean there. I meant here."
He patted his armrest, and my legs felt heavy as I walked around to where he directed, it felt as though my chains have returned to my limbs.
I twiddled one big toe with my other, glancing at him, then looking down when he stared at me. "Did you do anything wrong?" I heard him ask, and to be honest, I didn't know, so I shook my head.
He said nothing more, but he held his arms out, and so I sat on his lap.
"That's not what I meant when I said, 'Come here'—tsk." But he didn't push me away, and instead, he patted my head, his fingers threading through my hair, calming me down with each stroke.
I felt like crying all over again, but found out I couldn't—so I wrapped my arms around him instead, just like what I did to the man in my dreams. I heard him hum through his chest on my ear, and he kept stroking my hair in silence—
Before I knew it, I fell asleep on him.
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I woke up to a soft bed and warm blanket on my body, and saw Sanzo sitting on the bed by my side, smoking a cigarette and reading a book. The lamp beside him illuminated his face, creating a soft halo on his hair and silhouette. My eyes fluttered close, and imagined that this was another dream, one I was intent not to wake up from.
"You awake?"
Sanzo's voice was calm, quiet, and deep, as though talking louder than he would might wake up the still of the night. I realized I like this version of Sanzo better than his usual angry voice. I smiled and nodded in response, refusing to open my eyes as I dug myself deeper into the blanket.
He hummed, and I heard the soft rustle of a page turning, the quiet exhale of smoke exiting from his lips, and the relaxed sound of his breathing. My fingers curled on the pillow my head was on, smiling at the sound of my nails scraping on the fabric. I felt his hand on my hair again—ruffling and soothing me at the same time.
"You haven't slept?" I asked as I peeked at him with one eye, noticing the faint, dark circles under his eyes. Scooting over to the side, I patted the mattress, "You can sleep."
He huffed, "Like hell I would." He clicked his tongue, read a page of his book, and slammed it shut. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he stubbed it on the ashtray—I hoped it was the ashtray, I couldn't see it from where I was.
He slid the covers on himself, and I watched him remove his long gloves, and scooted over to where I lied, silent as he faced me with his eyes closed. I smiled, sighing at the feel of the blanket's warmth and the dip of the bed from Sanzo's body. "So you said, but you did it anyway."
"Hn, you'll spout nonsense again if I didn't—hey, what are you doing."
"Hugging you."
"I can see that. But why."
I offered no reply, simply clutched onto his back, and took in his scent. He smelled of green tea and smokes. My nose twitched, and I gulped—so did he—as I moved to where his neck was exposed, taking in the scent of his skin there. I felt him drape his arm around me, and my shoulders drooped, relaxed in his hold. "You feel warm," I finally said after a moment's worth of silence, and he hummed, the vibrations from his throat sending giggles bubbling forth. He noticed it, I guess, because he did it again, humming as he stroked my hair.
"You need to write words properly. I'll start teaching you tomorrow."
I kissed his neck as a reply, grinning when he stilled in surprise. He taught me how to read and write, always setting time for me when he had no duties in the temple. At first, I was conscious of the stares I got from the monks—and that one time when one of them tried to touch me while Sanzo was with me stood out the most—but then Sanzo told me not to mind, that it was normal for them to treat me the way they did. It was all because I always followed Sanzo around, and he allowed it in return.
Plus, he recently told me that staying with him in his private quarters every night raised suspicion in the temple. I didn't know what was that about—didn't some of the acolytes sleep in one room, too?
"You're not an acolyte, if that's what you're thinking, so it's different."
"Ah, you heard me."
"Of course I did. Your voice is loud in my head."
I laughed, nuzzling my face close to his neck, "This is fine. I can dream like this forever."
He exhaled on my hair, making me ticklish, and I felt sleep fill my senses—
"You're not dreaming now," he said in that low voice of his, that tone he reserved just for me whenever we were alone.
He calmed me down. I was in his hold, caring for me, looking after me in his own way—
And I was happy.
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After meeting Sanzo, I've always felt like I had a very long dream, over the years.
In it, I had strange visions—of seeing trees crying through branches, the leaves shedding tears through the droplets of rain. I saw a yellow butterfly flying around me, landing on my nose when I fell asleep, only to be taken away by a little bird hopping on my feet. There was also a tiger roaring in the night, protecting something that I couldn't see.
And after that, there was the man in my dreams from long ago, smiling at me from underneath a tree. At first, I thought he would die if I tried touching his face again—I tried—
He didn't burn.
Instead, he closed his eyes as I touched his face, his long, blond hair caressing my fingers and the back of my hands, and I wept.
For the first time, he stayed completely alive in my dreams.
"—ku… Goku."
Opening my eyes, I saw Sanzo above me, frowning as he had always been.
"You're dreaming again."
I hummed, nodding once, and felt his hand on my hair—
"We're going out today, don't you remember? Get up, before the monks start yapping again."
Ah. That was it. he promised me he'd take me out to town—people-watching, he called it.
Sitting up, I smiled at him, and laughed when my stomach growled.
We ate in the dining hall, devoid of the monks and the acolytes in the wee hours of the morning. I had memorized where they kept the food, all I had to do was reheat it—except for the tea. Sanzo was always keen on using fresh tea.
How we would do people-watching when the sun was not even up baffled me to no end, but I made no complaints. I got to eat the food that I wanted—even the peaches from my favorite tree! And meat!
But then I realized—
"Could it be, that we're eating at this hour, was because I wasn't allowed to eat as much as I wanted when they're around?"
My question seemed to have struck a chord, as Sanzo paused in eating his bowl of rice.
"What are you saying, idiot?" he retorted, looking away as he shoved more rice in his mouth than usual. I bit back a laugh. He was shy, dishonest at times, badmouthed in every way possible, but—
"Sanzo, your face is red, haha!"
—he became the sun I have always loved.
"Shut up and pack up. We're leaving!"
I did as I was told, giggling all the while when I felt his glares behind my back. I made my way to the kitchen, careful to avoid anyone who might be inside. Seeing none, I washed up all the dishes and made sure everything was in place, and rushed back to Sanzo's quarters, packing everything like he wanted me to. "Done!" I announced, barging inside his office with a grin. Noticing him signing documents, I clamped my mouth shut, apologizing. "Do you need more time, or…?"
"No, I'm good," he replied, chucking his glasses inside his robes as he stood. "Let's go."
We set out on our short trip to town. Before, it had been to the mountains, where we saw a tiger and her cub. I didn't understand well what happened that day, but Sanzo, from what I could tell, cried when he saw that tiger. At least, I thought he did, but I never asked.
At the market, I saw people opening up their stores, most of them holding back yawns and some of them stretching before they open their doors and windows. I smiled, and glanced at Sanzo, who looked calm despite his constant frown. I learned to read his expressions at some point—what he actually felt, what he tried to hide, at least, to some extent, I could sense his feelings that he tried hard to bury.
I held his open hand, and noticed the small change in his features. A blink, a pause in his step, and a side-glance at me. He looked at his left hand enclosed with my right, and he sighed—
He held on to my hand a bit tighter as we walked, and I swore I saw him smile for just a little while.
We reached the corner of the town, where there laid two paths before us. Shrugging, Sanzo took the one on the right, with my hand still clasped to his. "Are you sure it's okay?" I asked, glancing at our linked hands. "People might talk."
"Do I look like I care?"
I shook my head, and clasped our fingers together, and felt his thumb brush down my forefinger on repeat.
His hand was warm in the cool, morning air, and I found myself sticking close to him, my shoulder brushing against his elbow. "How long 'til we get there?" I asked, trying for another shot at a conversation. He was bad at it unless asked about his opinion on things—I guessed it was Sanzo's dislike on being pried about his private matters aside from his thoughts about the world around him.
"About an hour or two, depending on how your stomach will take it."
He didn't look at me when he spoke, but I sure heard a laugh in his voice. I smiled, and swayed our hands together, humming all the while.
On our way to the next town, we saw many things—sights of nature and of people ambling along the rivers and the bridges above them. One couple seemed intent on hogging all the space in the path to the bridge, the two of them too busy to care that there were others trying to pass through.
"Hey. Go eat each other's faces somewhere else. You're in the fucking way."
My eye twitched. Still as crass as ever.
The couple looked angry, as expected, but when they noticed Sanzo, they froze, and bowed profusely, and left in a hurry, apologizing in their wake.
"It's because of your clothes, isn't it," I deadpanned, glaring at him with a huff.
"Probably that. Why are you mad?"
"I want to get noticed like that, too. Imagine all the free food I could get from people if I had those clothes."
"Idiot. You get all the food in the temple, what else do you want?"
I said nothing. In reality, I didn't know what more I could want. Sanzo was with me, and that was enough.
Shaking my head, I grinned, "You're right. I do have everything I want."
Sanzo blinked and hummed, looking a bit doubtful with his eyebrow raised like that. But it was fine. We said nothing more, and walked in a comfortable silence. After another hour's worth of walking hand in hand, Sanzo sighed, knocking away branches and twigs from his face as we went deeper in a nearby forest. "We're here. It's a bit misty, though."
I looked at where he pointed at, and I felt my heart stop.
Before us was a large waterfall in the middle of a grove, its mist spraying our bodies and our faces. I felt my face stretch when I looked around—flower and fruit-bearing trees, colorful birds singing and adorning the morning sky, fresh air filling the lungs with each intake of breath—
I stepped away from Sanzo, and looked down, and saw that the ground was damp against my shoes.
I gulped, and remembered dreams that I used to have centuries ago, and I almost cried. Almost.
Looking back at Sanzo, I noticed him frowning, studying what my reaction would be. He stood there in silence, his left hand that I had held rested against his side, its warmth still prickling my right palm with a sense of calm—
I ran to him, hugging him with all my might.
"Thank you," I whispered, aware of the sound of the rushing waters drowning my voice away. I didn't think he could he hear me, but I felt his arms wrap around my back and my head, and patted it, and I rubbed my face on his abdomen in return. "But I thought you said we were supposed to go people-watching?"
"Changed my mind," he breathed, shrugging as he looked around, his hands still on me. "This is better—don't you think?"
I couldn't hold back my grin as I looked up at him—his hair glowing under the sunrays peeking through the thick trees, his face painting the perfect picture of tranquility. His eyes, which always glared at the world with extreme loathing, seemed relaxed as he looked around, as though he was seeing everything around him for the first time. His lips, which were always set in a grim frown, parted as his shoulders tensed and relaxed a few times—and he looked at me, patting my head once more.
"We'll stay here for the day."
And so we did.
Sanzo allowed me to roam around while he sat on a rock near the falls, and meditated with his palms pressed close under his chin, his legs crossed, and his eyes closed. I looked at him from the corner of my eye whenever I took random fruits from nearby trees, making sure he was all right and not getting into an accident of slipping into the water or hitting his head in the rocks while I wasn't looking. I became his attendant two years ago, I could at least look out for him while he meditated.
I hummed a tune as I climbed trees, grinning all the while when I dropped them in the large basket I brought. At one point, I climbed up a pear tree, smiling at seeing its ripe fruits, all of them ready for the picking. I took one, and paused when I looked at it—a feeling of something distant rushed in my mind, something I wasn't supposed to forget, but I did. And suddenly, I felt sad.
Sitting on a thick, sturdy branch, I wiped off the fruit on my clothes and ate the pear in my hand, observing Sanzo as I ate. He remained still as he meditated, save for his lips moving in a silent prayer that I couldn't understand. He once said that monkhood was never easy, and I told him I'd never want to be one if that was the case—
A small, yellow butterfly landed on Sanzo's knee, its tiny wings flapping slowly as he prayed. I held back a grin, and hoped he wouldn't swat the poor thing away. I saw him open his eyes just a bit, and glanced at the oblivious butterfly. I saw him sighing, and closed his eyes once more.
Another butterfly, a larger one than the one on Sanzo's knee, flew by his face, and the yellow butterfly chased the larger, brown-winged one—and I felt a smile tugging at my lips as I leaned on the pear tree—
A tear unknowingly slid from my eye as I saw Sanzo under the sun, and my heart felt relief from a reason I couldn't even understand—
"Don't cry."
Blinking, I looked around, then at Sanzo, and sure enough, he still sat there, unmoving, but I heard his voice loud and clear.
I stood up from the branch, bracing myself on the tree, and yelled, "Hey, Sanzo! Did you say something just now?"
He opened his eyes and looked at where I stood, and shook his head. "Of course I didn't, idiot. I'm meditating here."
Confused, I pouted. "Eh, but I'm pretty sure that you—" I paused, and patted my right hand on the tree.
Something didn't feel right.
I looked at the trunk, squinting really hard in between the grooves, and saw nothing. "I swear I felt something kinda cold—"
There was a rustle to my left, and my eyes widened when I saw something move in between the canopy of leaves, slithering on the branches—
A loud hiss and the sight of a wide mouth and long, sharp fangs made me yelp and lose my balance, knocking me out from the branch—
"Goku!"
.
I dreamed I was curled up on the ground, and heard of a voice that I have heard before. It was quiet, like a whisper tickling my ears, sending shivers to my bones.
I heard it ringing against my ears once more—I felt at ease, calm and in peace.
In my dream, I walked an aimless path, the ground beneath my roughened feet soft and damp against my soles—and I stopped in the middle of the soft ground, and saw a familiar face—
The man in my dreams returned to me, smiling at me with an outstretched hand.
I opened my eyes, and saw Sanzo looking at me with a pained expression.
"You idiot," he scoffed, clicking his tongue as he scratched his head, "the snake that fell on you doesn't prey on humans. It only eats snails and other mollusks." He clicked his tongue once more, his brows curling downwards as he patted my head. "Hurt anywhere?"
I moved my toes and my feet from where I lied—on Sanzo's lap, no less—and found them working just fine. I opened and closed my hands, cracking the joints in my knuckles in the process, and felt no pain. Shaking my head, I beamed at Sanzo, "Nah, I'm fine!" Sitting up, I stretched my arms overhead, my back creaking at the movement, and my stomach growled in protest. "I'm hungry, though. Are there any fruits left?"
He stared at me, his eyes deadpan and his nostrils scoffing at my announcement. Jerking his thumb at the basket beside me, I whooped in joy, and paused when I noticed it was still full. "You didn't eat any? Why?"
"I couldn't move for shit when you're on me for five hours."
"Geh!? I was out for that long!? I—" Looking at the sky, I saw that the sun was nowhere to be seen, save for its rays peeking from some of the foliage, telling me it was way past noon. "Ah, Sanzo, you need to eat!"
"Feh. Look who's talking—"
"Here! Eat these, eat these!"
I grinned as I offered up the basket of fruits, showing him my biggest smile as I waited—he picked up a large tangerine, shoved his thumb into the skin, and peeled it. As for me, I took a ripe loquat, my toes curling in anticipation as I peeled the skin and ate its sweet flesh, spitting the seeds as I go. We ate in silence, speaking only when Sanzo needed another serving, or when I talked about new trees I discovered before I fell unconscious. I showed him my loquat-stained fingernails minutes after I finished the loquats, to which Sanzo cringed, and I laughed.
Smiling as I cradled my face on my knees, I watched him eat the blueberries, the strawberries, and another tangerine. He didn't seem to mind that I was watching him, or maybe he ignored me the whole time he was eating, because his eyes were closed the whole time.
He chewed on a ripe mango that he had peeled brutally with his hands, and I was tempted to take another fruit, but stopped myself when I thought that Sanzo hadn't eaten a bite during the time he was watching over me, so I drank water from the canteen, instead.
"Don't force yourself. Eat if you're hungry," Sanzo suddenly blurted, his eyes remaining closed as he ate. "There are plenty more around."
I smiled.
He knew me so well.
So I picked up the first fruit my hand came across, and found it to be a pear. I frowned. Sanzo asked me what was wrong, and I said nothing, and smiled. "I just remembered a dream from long ago. Um, I dreamed I was under a pear tree, and I was with someone I couldn't remember."
"Well, isn't that helpful."
Pouting, I scooted over closer to him, "I can't remember everything that I dreamed from long ago, except for that person who was always with me. Come to think of it—" Pausing, I stared at Sanzo's face with my full attention, drowning out the sound of nature around me as I studied his appearance. Sanzo was a really pretty guy, even though he could be grumpy and swore and smoked a lot. But without those things, Sanzo wouldn't be Sanzo. Squinting, I tried to make heads and tails, when he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
He must have gotten tired of being stared at, so whacked me on the head with his fan. I winced, yet smiled.
I ate the pear in comfortable silence, and paused when, from the corner of my eye, I felt movement, and looked around, only to see the snake from earlier look at me, hissing, like it mocked me for falling down earlier.
"Geh—what are you looking at? Get your own food!" I stuck my tongue out at the snake, and it gave me another hiss, slithering closer until it reached my feet. I scooted back immediately. "Sanzooo—it's looking at me weirdly!"
Sanzo scoffed, took a mouthful of the mango, and threw the rest of it to the snake, "It's hungry, just like you."
I blinked. "Eh?" And sure enough, as soon as the mango landed in front of the snake, it hissed, plopping its thin tongue on the fruit, tasting it once, and curled its body upon itself, and started eating in front of us. "Ah, it is hungry."
Sanzo hummed, "See? Animals should know how other animals think."
"Yeah, I gue—hey. What's that supposed to mean?" I pouted at the suggestion that I was an animal and almost agreed to it—
"All life is connected, whether we're aware of it or not. Without animals, we'd all be dead from plagues. Without trees, we'd all die. Without humans—"
"I wouldn't have met you," I cut him off, smiling at Sanzo's quiet curiosity. "Without you, I would still be in that cage, alone, and dreaming forever. Thanks." I grinned. He huffed as a reply, looking away from me as he stood, and went to the pond nearby, washing his hands there. I bit back a laugh. Sanzo was shy—that, I noticed.
I looked at the snake that continued to eat the mango. Its tail moved at times, as though happy of the meal, and I watched it, smiling. The snake looked cute, too. And had golden eyes like mine.
The sound of rustling from behind the bushes startled me, and I heard Sanzo readying his gun and aiming it to where it was, when something fluffy, small, and white popped out from behind the leaves.
"A paw?" I blinked in confusion, and the leaves rustling became louder until the intruder showed its face, its ears and its pink nose twitching as a baby tiger made its way out of the bushes and into the open, tumbling onto the grass. "Ah, it must be that tiger from before!" I squealed, and ran over to greet it and get it back on its feet. From behind me, I heard Sanzo sigh, and placed his gun back in his robes. "Sanzo, can I keep it now? Can I keep it?"
"The answer is still no."
I puffed my cheeks, but with one lick from the cub's tongue on my hand, I squealed again.
I noticed Sanzo walk over to the snake and carried it along with the mango, and went back to where I was. He plopped the half-eaten mango and the snake in front of the cub, and Sanzo sat beside me. We watched the snake and the tiger cub eat the fruit, and when they were done, Sanzo threw another mango at it. I also placed a bunch of muntingia berries for the snake too, since they were small enough for the snake to finish.
I, in my stillness of watching them, failed to noticed that I had shed a tear, and it wasn't until Sanzo had pointed it out to me when he nudged me to look at him.
"Why are you crying again?"
"I—I don't… know…"
And it's true. I really didn't know why I was crying this time. Seeing this snake and this tiger eating together stirred something within me and I couldn't help but cry—
—there it was again.
Something I should remember, but couldn't. It felt like a betrayal of a memory I shouldn't have forgotten, but I have—
"Hey, Goku. Look at me."
I gulped as another tear fell, and looked at him as instructed, "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to cry, it just fell and—"
I stopped, as soon as he nudged his forehead to mine—and a memory from long ago clawed crying to the surface—my head spun, and I was about to cry harder when—
"I'm here now, remember?"
And I looked up to him, and saw a halo of light surrounding him under the canopy of trees—
—another tear fell, not from sadness, but from awe—
In a split second, I saw him not as Sanzo, but a man so familiar, with long, blond hair that rivalled the brightness of the sun.
I blinked, and Sanzo's back, frowning at me as he wiped my tear away.
"Don't cry. I'm here now."
I sniffled, struggling to smile as I hugged him tight, my vision blurring through the tears.
He was right. I shouldn't cry now.
Under the coolness of the shade of the pear trees, with the animals beside us, with the butterflies flitting around us, another sob wracked through my lungs as I wept openly while being hugged in return—
The sun casted its warmth on us, its rays a quiet witness to my unspoken sadness now coming out in the open, letting all of the forest to hear, and in the wreckage of my wails, I swore, as I looked up to the heavens—
—that the translucent hand of what seemed to be like that of a woman's, had caressed my face gently.
In the lulling rustle of the leaves in the forest, a quiet laugh from a woman seemed to pierce my hearing and, blinking the tears away, I saw nothing save for the sun's bright rays on my face—there was none from the woman's translucent hand touching my face, nor her appearance for me to identify with.
I didn't know what was that all about, but I felt a wave of relief wash within me, and I hugged Sanzo tighter.
As I did, a name so strange fell from my lips on instinct, thanking someone whom I didn't know in undertone—
"Goku, don't cry—"
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, smiling now, and holding him even tighter.
The gentle wind seemed to embrace us as the quiet laugh from the woman faded away.
"'m not crying, Sanzo."
He snorted. He knew it was a lie, but went along with it. I bit my lip, holding back a laugh myself.
We sat that way for quite some time, with him waiting for me to stop crying completely. It wasn't until the snake rolled on its back that I stopped completely, and the laugh that I'd been trying to hold back bubble forth.
"And now you're laughing?" Sanzo asked, baffled, and I giggled.
"Because! The snake keeps rolling around, see?" And I pointed at it, chortling at how the tiger cub kept pawing at the snake's exposed tummy.
Sanzo huffed, ruffled his fingers still buried in my hair one last time, before pulling away from the embrace. "Now that you're back to your idiotic self, let's go home."
I grinned, and hugged him once more when we stood up, ignoring his sudden bouts of yelling as he tried and failed to pull me away.
In the end, he held my hand once more, with the now empty basket in the other, and we walked back in silence, disturbed only by the sound crunching twigs and dried up leaves under our feet.
As we left the forest, I looked at the tiger and the snake that we were leaving behind, and I giggled as they played.
I looked up to the sky once more, grinning to whoever was watching us.
"Thank you, Goddess of Mercy."
I then stopped, and blinked, unaware that my hold on Sanzo's hand slackened. "Eh? 'Goddess'? 'Mercy'? Where did that come from?"
"Hey, Goku. What's wrong?"
I jolted out of my thoughts as Sanzo called me once more, and shook my head as I clasped my hand to his, telling him that it was nothing, and I told him more of what I have seen in the forest.
I tried not to shed a tear this time as I told him of many things that popped up in my head, and as we reached Keiun temple by sundown, his hold on my hand didn't loosen the slightest.
I blinked back a tear—don't cry, me—and smiled as Sanzo looked at me with his violet eyes.
"You had fun today?"
I choked back a happy sob, and could only nod fervently in return.
Once again, I was with my sun—
"I did! We'll do this again tomorrow, right?"
Sanzo snorted a laugh, hid it behind his gloved hand, and muttered, "Sure."
—and we were happy.
.
A/N: It took a quarantine for me to finally finish what I started, so yeah. This fic is finally finished in almost four years—in 10,365 words. Yay!