Chapter Nine: Fighting For Fun
The rain let up two days later. Sanzo stayed brooding and quiet the entire two days, drinking beer and chain-smoking. Homura left the food Hakkai gave him on Sanzo's table at regular intervals, but otherwise left the monk to his thoughts. He knew well what that all-absorbing melancholy was like. He knew as well the difficulty of interacting with others when it descended.
He spent as little time in their shared rooms as possible, preferring to sit with the others in their rooms, or in the common area of the inn. Hakkai and Gojyo took the opportunity to start teaching him poker, and Mahjongg, with Goku roped in as the fourth player when needed. Which, he noticed, served the additional purpose of taking Goku's mind off of Sanzo.
Sanzo rarely left the room, only to get more cigarettes or beer, or use the toilet. When he did, the others kept out of his way, save for Hakkai, who would offer tea and quiet encouragement to eat.
It was far from ideal, but at least it was a time to rest. And the games were interesting. The inn was a comfortable one with a varied menu, and Homura took the opportunity to experiment, testing different recipes to see which ones he enjoyed. Goku proved more than willing to eat anything he discarded and, more than once, he caught Hakkai making notes about his preferences.
Dawn the third day was overcast but no longer dripping. Hakkai and Goku went for a brief supply run, and by the time they got back, the cloud cover was beginning to thin. Homura met Gojyo at the doorway after breakfast, to find the redhead eyeing the sky. "About time."
Homura blinked. Out of all of them, Gojyo had shown the least signs of either restlessness or brooding. The redhead had cheerfully accepted Hakkai's invitation to teach Homura about gambling and had, the second night, turned the lesson into one on cheating as well. Which had led to an impromptu demonstration of 'trash talk' and bluffing, as well as counter-cheating techniques. And a quick explanation of when not to cheat. When they hadn't been playing, the red-haired man had been busy chatting with women in the bar, shamelessly flirting, smoking, or enjoying drinks and gossiping with the locals.
Homura studied him. "You haven't seemed eager to leave."
Gojyo shrugged. "I'm not against a good meal, a good game, and a willing woman." He smirked. "All the same, it's kinda not our style to stay in one place." His gaze flicked to the surrounding rooftops. "Besides, you might not have noticed yet, but staying in one place too long tends to attract the nastier elements in the area."
"Nastier elements?" Homura raised an eyebrow.
"He means demons." Sanzo joined them, fully dressed with a scowl in place. "Demons tend to notice when we stop for too long. And then they tend to get stupid ideas about taking things that don't belong to them."
Homura blinked, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "Surely you can't tell me you have trouble with demons? You, who have faced the gods."
"It depends on what kind of demons. And usually, no. We don't. But it's annoying, and it's a waste of time. Unless it's Kougaji, they're generally uninformed morons." Sanzo huffed. "Where are Hakkai and the stupid chimp?"
"Getting supplies to replace what we ate."
"Great. I hope they hurry. I want to get out of town before the welcoming committee gets here. Fighting demons is annoying, but paying for damages is even worse." Sanzo stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
"You really think they will attack? Surely they will have heard how you deal with demons."
"Like he said, they're kinda stupid. They always think they can do better and win where everyone else has failed." Gojyo shoved himself upright. "Sounds like Hakkai is back."
"Great. I'll go pay the tab, you two help load up." Sanzo stubbed out his cigarette and vanished back inside. Moments later, Hakkai and Goku came around the corner, both carrying several bags.
Packing was quick. Even Homura was beginning to count himself experienced in the matter of preparing the jeep for travel. Within an hour, everything was stowed, the bills were paid, and they were on their way.
They left the town behind without incident. The first hour of the drive passed in silence, the tumbled and rocky landscape sliding by with its usual speed and silence. Homura was just beginning to relax into his seat when Hakkai edged the jeep off the road and stopped. He blinked. "Stopping already?"
Sanzo made a rude noise. "There's an area up ahead where the rocks rise to close the road in. Demons might be idiots, but even dumb animals know a good place for an ambush when they see one."
"That's true." Hakkai nodded. "So we should decide how we're going to handle them. I'd prefer not to risk the jeep." He grinned.
"Keh. What's to decide?" Gojyo grinned and hopped out of the vehicle, his strange staff weapon materializing in his hand. "We just charge the bastards and make them regret they were ever born."
"Yeah!" Goku jumped out as well. "Man, it's been forever since I had a good fight!"
"It's been less than a week, you stupid monkey." Sanzo sighed. Goku was already darting towards the narrow space, and Sanzo scowled. "Of all the idiotic...dumb chimp." But even as he spoke, he was climbing out of the vehicle with a snarl of frustration. Then he stopped and looked back. "You coming?"
Homura blinked. "I hadn't thought I would be welcome, or needed."
"You aren't needed. We can certainly handle a rabble without your help. But that wasn't what I asked. I asked if you're coming or not." Sanzo scowled at him, then turned to follow his companions. "If you want to get any target practice in, you'd better hurry. Goku's good at ending shit fast these days." Then the monk walked off, joining the others and leaving Homura to stare after him.
Do I...want to fight?
He'd never been asked if he wanted to fight. He'd been made War Prince after Nataku fell, given his sword, and sent into battle. At first, he'd hoped that distinguishing himself as a warrior would earn him some respect, perhaps some kindness. He'd realized quickly how futile it was to hope for such things. Perhaps he'd gained trust from some of the men he commanded, like Shien and Zenon, but the majority of Heaven's inhabitants had treated him like scum even after he'd gained victories for them on the field of battle.
He should have learned from Nataku's example, but he'd been so lost back then.
A shout echoed from up ahead, turning into a chorus of them. The sound of battle.
His palms itched. His shoulders tensed as a familiar surge of energy swept through him. The call of combat.
He didn't have to fight. No doubt Son Goku and his friends would make quick work of their opponents. Few if any could stand against the warriors they'd become. Son Goku alone could probably have wiped out a considerably larger army. And yet…
He had spent so long measuring his strength in combat. He had fought so hard to determine a worthy opponent to face him. Becoming the War Prince had not been his decision, but becoming a warrior, a power to be reckoned with, had been.
He was up and out of the car, striding toward the noise, before he had a chance to think about it. He didn't bother calling his sword, moving on instinct and an urge he barely understood.
The narrow place in the road was packed with moving, screeching forms. Demons, all of them minor demons that he would have normally considered an embarrassment to fight. The kind of low-level entities he wouldn't have even offered the chains of divinity to. Within the seething mass, he spotted Chi blasts from Hakkai, Gojyo's scythe, and the gold and red flash of Son Goku's staff. Then Son Goku himself appeared, landing a jump from the midst of the crowd to its edge. A demon screeched and darted at him, and he dodged with an easy fluid grace. Their eyes met, and then Goku gave him a smirk. "Hoy, Homura!"
The boy shoved the demon at him, and he reacted without thinking. He ducked the first swipe of claws and flailing arms, then delivered a punishing blow to the demon's midriff. He followed up with an uppercut, the barest touch of his power resonating in his fists, not even enough to make his cuffs hum against his skin, and the demon exploded as his power banished it.
"Nice!" Gojyu slid out of the melee nearby. "Come to join the fun?" The red-haired half-demon grinned. "Better hurry. Goku doesn't leave much for anyone else. And baldy's in fine form today." A shot passed near his head, and the red-haired man jerked. "Hey, shitty monk! Watch where you're pointing that thing!"
"I was." Sanzo huffed, then banished another demon. "Shut up and fight. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get back on the road." He ducked as a demon got close, then punched his attacker, following up with a kick to get distance, then another shot from his gun. "Idiots...why they even bother..."
"Keh. Hey." Homura tensed as Gojyo stepped back to his side. "I'll go left to back up Hakkai. You go right and help the chimp. Next round of beers says I kill more than you."
Next round of beers...he blinked. "Are you intending to count your head start?"
"Hell yeah!" Gojyo grinned at him, battle light shining alongside honest mirth in his eyes. Then he darted into the mass of attackers, chain-scythe out and swinging.
He found himself leaping forward without conscious thought, sprinting to the right, toward where he'd seen Son Goku charge back into the fray. Within seconds, he was surrounded by demons. His body moved without conscious thought, slamming aside grasping hands and sharp teeth, breaking noses and arms and knees. The tension drained out of his shoulders, leaving him loose and relaxed as he moved from one foe to another.
How long has it been...since I have done something like this?
How long had it been since he'd fought an honest brawl, a clean fight like this one? No underhanded motives, no divine power creating an impassable gap in strengths. Just fists and feet and the simplicity of exchanging blows, delivering defeat with nothing more than the skills he'd honed.
He'd sparred on occasion, with Shien and Zenon and sometimes others. But he couldn't remember the last time it had felt so…
So light. I feel so light. And...everything feels...simpler somehow. Without the cold, heavy chains weighing his wrists, each movement was smooth and fluid, unhampered by the encumbrances he was used to enduring. With no motive, no plan beyond defeating his opponents, everything narrowed down to the fight. Duck. Counter. Strike. End it. Repeat. There was no thought required, no need for plans or anything but the blood pumping in his veins and the movements he'd trained over centuries.
He never realized that the horde was thinning, but suddenly, there were no more demons. His opponent fell, and no new combatant took his place. He stopped, blinking.
The demons were gone, killed, banished, or fled. Goku was standing nearby, grinning. Sanzo was tucking his banishing gun back into his robes, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Hakkai was swiping back his disordered hair, while Gojyo smirked. The red-haired man saw him looking and gave him a thumbs up. "So...I got about...let's say thirty-five. You?"
It took him a moment to remember what Gojyo was referring to. He blinked again. "I...I believe I neglected to keep count."
"I win by default then. You owe me a beer."
He thought he should have felt irritated about losing, given his status as the War Prince of Heaven. But Kenrin had always been one of the best, and Gojyo didn't seem much different. Besides, he was becoming conscious of the sweat sticking his shirt to his shoulders, the breeze cooling his face and arms, and the low aching heaviness that usually came in the aftermath of a battle. His knuckles were dark with blood, and deeper bruises. It took him a moment to remember that he hadn't used much of his power, and it had been a long time since he'd engaged in a fistfight. With anyone other than Goku, at least. He flexed his hands, feeling the ache that might linger for a day, perhaps, but no real damage.
He glanced back up. "If you say so. You'll have to remind me when we get to the next town, but I suppose I don't mind being accommodating. At least, this time."
"Whatever. Let's get back on the road. We can waste time discussing who owes who a beer while we're driving." Sanzo stalked past him, heading back to the jeep. The rest of them fell in behind. Back at the vehicle, Homura handed out drinks from the cold box, taking one for himself and rinsing his hands in a bit of water from the melted ice, then leaned back.
He couldn't remember ever fighting as simply Homura, rather than the War Prince, or Heaven's Outcast. It was oddly calming. He hadn't thought fighting could be soothing. He wondered if it was because of the lack of alternative motives.
Or is it simply because I was given a choice? A choice beyond destiny or necessity? I could have remained apart from the combat, but I chose to be involved? Not because I wished to obtain something, either, but simply because I desired to join in. To act alongside my current companions.
Could something so simple truly make so much difference?
He sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the sky above, clear blue with patchy clouds.
Fighting has always been a duty. A burden. Something I had to do to survive, to have even some semblance of life. The only time I've enjoyed myself as I did today was when I sparred with Son Goku. And even that...even then I had another goal in mind. Today, however...I felt calm. Almost...at peace.
At peace. He really couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way. Not unless he counted those moments when he'd thought he was dying, killed by Son Goku in combat.
Come to think of it, he'd never thought about why that had been his choice of death. He'd been dying anyway, and once on Earth, he hadn't really needed to do anything. He could have lived quietly, peacefully. Created a place of safety and remained there until his time had passed. He could have gone directly against Heaven, which would have gotten him killed much quicker. For that matter, he could have let himself be killed by just about anyone with a grudge. Kougaji would have been a decent opponent. Even Shien and Zenon might have delivered him mercy, had he asked it of them. They would have understood why, especially if he'd told them of his body's revolt against him.
Perhaps it wasn't fighting he had hated. Only the attitudes that surrounded it. Perhaps Heaven had tainted his thoughts further than he thought, turning a skill into a burden.
In any case, he had...he could almost say he had enjoyed the fight, brief and easy as it had been. The contact, the movement, the flow of his muscles and the satisfaction of blows avoided and delivered. He had felt...strong. Whole. Himself.
It was something he would have to consider further. For now, though, his muscles had cooled, and the surge of energy had been replaced by quiet lassitude. The beer he'd plucked from the container and absentmindedly finished had washed the dust out of his throat. His hands were already healing.
With a sigh of contentment, he leaned back against a squashy pad of blankets, stretching out his legs and folding his arms across his midsection.
Perhaps this trip would provide more enjoyment, and more understanding, than he'd thought.
Author's Note: Because you can't have the War Prince on a road trip and never get to fight...