HOPE AND GLORY
Rating: PG – Language/Mild violence
Genre: Angst/Drama
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Minekura Kazuya is an absolute genius for thinking up Saiyuki… I unfortunately cannot lay claim for any aspect of Saiyuki, blah blah blah (dang :|) etc. [But I own the youkai boy though and the ©opyrighted ideas for this fic.]
Summary: After a disturbing encounter with some youkai, Koumyo Sanzo appears to Genjo Sanzo in a dream one rainy night and they speak of things that were, are and are to come.
Author's Notes:
Finally decided to get my lazy butt moving and wrote this fic out of sheer boredom and because no one had updated their fics yet. This is my first fic in a very very long time and my first Saiyuki one at that. Reviews are graciously accepted as usual (so clichéd). Ü There is no motivation to write without feedback. *bleah*
Lyrics found here are taken from 'Fragile' by Sting. Also, no pairings are intended (I can't bring myself to write shounen-ai) and the whole thing will probably comprise of two or at most, three chapters. Genjo Sanzo will be referred to as Sanzo or Kouryuu (when necessary) and Koumyo Sanzo as Koumyo Sanzo to prevent confusion. [Spoilers might surface by the way.]
This fic might be dedicated to someone (won't disclose who yet) if she likes it, angst and all, for *sardonic snort* CHRISTMAS. *laughs self silly* Will update in my next bout of boredom or inspiration, whichever comes first! Ü
"…" – speech
italics – thoughts
Chapter One: The Rain Will Fall Like Tears From A Star
If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the color of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
"Ch', damn rain."
He looked out of the window in intense annoyance as he took a long puff on his cigarette, letting the smell of tobacco waft down his throat, warming it.
They had been on the road, driving along at a nice steady speed when they were suddenly attacked by another band of over-ambitious youkais trying to get his sutra and free meals.
Those bastards never give up.
He took another extended drag at the cigarette, the only source of comfort as he stared at the patterns of raindrops on the glass window. Funny how mesmerized he was, watching them, even though he hated the downpour with passion: another one of life's paradoxes.
[Flashback]
The youkai had been dispatched quickly and efficiently as usual though he did suffer a few minor bruises and scrapes. Human skin was so fragile and prone to injury. Worse still, it took such a long time to heal, a process only accelerated if Hakkai was well enough to donate his ki energy.
This time, Hakkai had got off injury free and was more than well and happy enough to mend him after first catching his breath.
But he had not wanted Hakkai to tend to his wounds. He was weak, so he got injured, and the thought of it burned in him and forced him to remember Koumyo Sanzo's last words - for him to be strong.
They were mild anyway, nothing life-threatening that demanded immediate attention. He would survive, like he always did.
As they were recuperating from the fight, amidst the stench of blood which penetrated his nostrils, stirring disgust in his gut, he had gazed at the corpses, then watched as the youkai blood stopped dripping from Gojyo's shakujou blade and dried up, tainting the steel.
Looking up at the horizon, he saw the sky painted in a vivid hue of oranges, reds and violets, and the bloodied stain of the dying sun as it sank behind the hills in the west. West. We head west.
In a moment of perverse humor, he wondered silently if he, the sun, as Goku liked to say, would end up like the great dimming fireball in the sky, hurtling to its demise by the time this whole joke of a journey was over. Will I end up dying in the west? The sun always dies in the west at the end of each day…Damn saru, cursing me in his idiotic brainless fashion…
Briefly, he recalled that the Three Aspects resided in Chou an, the Temple of the Setting Sun, and more idle thoughts ran through his brain. Humph, sending me to die in the west with these three idiots, amid the setting sun, where they linger, disembodied, in a spray of blood that stains the whole sky crimson red…
The significant irony of the whole situation, right down to the fact that Kougaiji's name started off with the kanji meaning crimson was rather amusing he found - in a very weird, hentai way.
He shoved the uncharacteristic ideas to the back of his head when he thought he felt another youkai presence near them.
A shadow detached itself from behind one of the trees. A young youkai boy emerged in the clearing, probably not any older than thirteen, with very pale blond hair, the color of the stars, and a star-shaped marking on his forehead to boot.
At the scene of gore, he had stood there speechless, staring at the pile of dead bodies with wide, frightened, yet searching eyes. After a moment, he ran forward with sudden urgency and started shoving some of the bloody corpses off the top, trying to uncover something in the mountain of dead bodies, the desperate panic in his wild eyes very apparent. They were completely ignored as the boy rummaged frantically, lost in his own falling realm.
Finally, the boy stopped. He had gotten half-dried blood all over him in the rush to free a single lifeless body of a youkai man with a similar star marking on his forehead. The boy gawked at the corpse for what seemed like ages.
Then, he screamed the word that struck Sanzo to the core, killing him as the sound reverberated through him, echo replying likewise to echo and setting forth even more repercussions in a grating cacophony. "Otou-sama!" Father…
With that anguished cry, the evening sky turned to a malevolent shade of dark grey and let pour its wrath on them. It fell in large torrents, the rain, drenching all of them in a matter of minutes.
As he looked at the boy forlornly, he was reminded of the time his own "father" had died. Koumyo Sanzo. It was ironic, how much Otou-sama sounded like Oshiou-sama, the title Sanzo had always addressed the elder man by. Teacher. But no, he was not only a teacher to Sanzo. He was the whole world, perfection in motion, and also much more than that.
Father… He had always wished he could address Koumyo Sanzo as Father. But that would set even more mouths chattering non-stop in envy of their close relationship. Not that he actually gave a damn about rumors. They were essentially a part of his life. No matter where he went, people would always have some pitiful two cents to chip in about him. Fools…Nothing less.
Still, formality was formality. He was unworthy as it was to be Koumyo Sanzo's pupil, much less the man's son. Koumyo Sanzo was a sanzo, the highest-ranked Buddhist monk and he did not deserve the disrespect of being called an abandoned orphan's father.
Yet, deep down inside Sanzo knew that he alone had had the deep honor of being treated like a son by Koumyo Sanzo. They had shared a special inseparable bond; Koumyo Sanzo had known him far better than he could ever hope to know himself and accepted him truly for all his weaknesses, caring for him immensely, to the point of giving his life for him.
Kouryuu had meant as much to Koumyo Sanzo as Koumyo Sanzo still meant to Kouryuu, now Genjo Sanzo.
Sanzo had been brought back to reality from his musings when the youkai boy had emitted a furious yell, a battle-cry of sorts, reflecting the sudden emergence of bloodlust in his cat-like eyes. His metamorphosis into his true youkai nature, with longer and sharper ears and nails, intrigued Sanzo a little.
From a lost misplaced child to a fearsome possessed warrior. He has grown up in an instant at the knowledge of the death, just like I did.
The kid was out for revenge in the most violent and painful way possible, he realized, and would stop at nothing to achieve it, even his own demise.
Nothing will come from it kid, nothing will come from your trying to exact revenge by killing us.
You are still too weak…too weak to protect anyone, much less yourself.
You will die if you attack us because you are not strong enough.
Nothing can and will come from this reckless, unthinking act of yours, driven by the angry passions of your untamed, mourning heart.
The boy would not have listened to him even if he had uttered those pearls of wisdom at that moment. He was still reeling from the cruel blows fate had dealt him this day, the massacre of half his clan and his father when they tried to tempt death and attack the Sanzo-ikkou. Sukuwarenai…He cannot be saved.
With inhuman speed, he launched himself at the nearest person to him – Sanzo. Out of survival instinct, Sanzo's hand automatically raised the gun, cocked the barrel, took aim, and fired a single shot at point-blank range.
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence
And nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
The boy's face, contorted in pain, both physical and emotional, reaching out a clawed hand towards Sanzo's neck in mid-leap was forever etched into the monk's head. His sharp eyes did not miss the glint of tears in the eyes of the youkai boy, still unshed. But as the boy's body slumped to the ground, his silver eyes closed and the tears flowed down his cheeks, let loose by the loss of life and control, mingling with the raindrops splattering on his pale cheeks and over the whole scene.
The unanimated body spasmed – once, twice – then it was all over. The boy was dead as dead could be, his fragility uncovered in the last throes of death as his face returned to the one he wore when he first appeared, the face of a lost misplaced child.
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
Sanzo's arm dropped unceremoniously to his side as he felt the slight pang of regret for having to end such a young life. What racked his conscience the most was how easy it was to see his own younger self in the boy.
Yes, Kouryuu and the boy were one, cursed with weak fragility and the inability to protect their loved ones, mocked at by the rain as it fell, playing a final requiem for those who lost their lives and unconsciously scarred those left behind with that last gift of true love as it fell with a pattering sound.
Beneath his long golden bangs, Sanzo surveyed the other three in silence, without giving himself away. Their faces were all frozen, forming a tableau.
Hakkai with mouth open was aghast, monocle sliding down his nose a little to reveal the defective emerald eye expressing a range of emotions from shock to sadness, in sync with his other working eye, still trying to comprehend the events that had happened prior to the killing.
Goku – big eyes widened, mirroring Hakkai's but with more unconcealed pain and horror since his golden orbs unfailingly betrayed his every emotion every time.
Gojyo's look however, was unfathomable. He kept his own blood-red eyes partially hidden beneath his long hair, forming a monochrome of red as he peeked out a little at the sight from behind the curtains of hair. His mouth was set in a tight, grim line, face hardened as it bore the onslaught of painful memories.
As he turned his gaze to the puddle of blood seeping from the centre of the boy's forehead, where his bullet had penetrated, spreading around the ground, absorbed into the soil and flowing slowly towards his feet as the rainwater diluted it, he could only smell the stench of blood mixed with rain and thought of how the rain reminded him of sweat from the sky among other things.
He closed his eyes, feeling the burden of taking a young life – youkai or not – weighing heavy on his shoulders, adding on to the weight of the responsibility entrusted to him by keeping the sutra. But that was the price he paid for living Koumyo Sanzo's legacy, for fulfilling the man's last wish, to take upon himself the same title of his Oshiou-sama, his teacher, and live his last words by being strong.
The relentless rain continued to pour down on them, and the puddle of blood and rain was threatening to engulf his feet. Hair plastered to his violet eyes, rendering them sightless until he smoothed the fringe away, he made his way silently to the jeep and got in without a single utterance.
Hakkai, Goku and Gojyo followed suit and soon enough they were continuing west to the next town despite the onset of the rain, to embrace this bloodied future in an odyssey carved in death to the very place where the mighty sun passed away each day.
He recalled the sight of the boy – silver eyes closed and the tears flowed down his cheeks, let loose by the loss of life and control, mingling with the raindrops splattering on his pale cheeks and over the whole scene – on the drive back to civilization, as his violet eyes closed and the unbidden, hidden tears flowed down his cheeks, let loose by the loss of control, mingling with the raindrops splattering on his pale cheeks and over everything in sight.
Back here in his room at the inn, alone, he watched the glass window, at the curious patterns of the raindrops, mesmerized by them. After a bath to rid himself of reeking of death and blood, plus a rather good dinner, albeit in his own silence, his mood had considerably cleared. Now, he just brooded about the rain.
There was no point obsessing in the death of the youkai boy, it was part and parcel of his life and one day, he too would be killed. A murderer must be prepared to lose his own life – that is what is meant by retribution.
The other three idiots had conveniently forgotten about the whole incident after they all emerged from the showers and were back to their usual, rowdy selves. The bakasaru up to his monkey tricks again and the erokappa up to his kappa tricks again. Not forgetting Hakkai and his mothering. Fools…Nothing less.
But now, as he pondered, he realized something important.
Not just Kouryuu and this youkai boy with the star marking – there were many others who suffered this same fate. At least these other three fools with him had too gone through this bitter experience. That was what bonded him with these three idiots – a fatal bond forged in the death of loved ones.
So through this fatal bond, they were made strong, strong enough to continue on to the next day, to survive without loosing their own lives as they went about killing others in self-defense and sometime, for him, sheer irritation.
He got into the bed and kept his eyes focused on the window as the pattering melody of the insistent rain lulled his tired body to sleep. His last thought was of his beloved Koumyo Sanzo looking up at the dark sky one night as they sat in the temple porch, illuminated in the soft pale-yellow light of the stars, amidst a slight drizzle. And the last words of his Oshiou-sama rang in his ears like a mantra, "Tsuyoku nari nasai, Genjo Sanzo." Please be strong, Genjo Sanzo.
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
TO BE CONTINUED…
And we come to the end of the first chapter! YAY! Ü this took me almost 3 hrs of today and a few more of other days, not to mention a gazillion brain cells dead from the radiation of the computer screen. _ The translations of the Japanese terms can be deduced by close logical scrutinizing of the sentence structures and common sense.
If you're wondering, Koumyo Sanzo appears in the next chapter and I'm sorry for the overload of angst. It just happened. -_- Also, if you're wondering about the title, that's actually one of the meanings of koumyo (I got that off a site) and I thought it was relevant and very significant with the idea of this fic and so this whole fic, et all, just happened. Ü
P.S. By the way, it was pouring ¾ through this fic till just a few minutes ago. Coincidental eh…