Fatherhood Chapter 2

Demons. They were everywhere, all around him, chasing him. With their fanged teeth and clawed nails, they were after him since the moment he stepped out of Changan Temple. One demon got pretty close to him, the odious breath stanching the air around him. Disgusted, he spins and jammed his elbow right into the demon's side, mashing his ribs. The demon howled in pain and even louder when he was shot in the head, evaporating into black vapour that faded in the sunlight. Quickly, he turned around and shot the demon's comrades. Their dying screams resonating in his ears.

He spat onto the ground. Though the demons were terribly disorganized when it came to fighting but their thoughts were one and the same on a single issue - to kill a Sanzo and become an immortal by consuming his flesh and bone. This famous fable among demons of all ranks and powers. What a whole load of rubbish! Grunting unbelievingly, he wondered who was the wise guy who made this childish tale up? If the flesh of a Sanzo enabled a demon to become an immortal, then wasn't the Sanzo an immortal?

From behind, a demon materialized, grabbed his left arm and pulled him forward. His grip was like iron shackles. Bending his knees, the demon brought his right arm down and clasped Sanzo's right leg. The demon's right shoulder drove into Sanzo's side. Sanzo gnashed his teeth as he was lifted up, wheeled across the demon's shoulders and throw aside onto the hard ground, bruised and sore all over.

Yet the demon was not giving any chances for him to recover from his fall. Wrapping his burly arm round Sanzo's neck, he pulled backwards while his right hand pushed the back of Sanzo's head forward. A choking cry came from Sanzo while the demon completed his strangle lock by gripping his right elbow with the left hand. Forcing himself, he launched and heavily back-kicked right at the demon's right knee socket, smashing the bones. The demon cried out in anguish and loosened his grip. Swiftly, Sanzo held out his gun and shot him dead. Once more, the demon evaporated to the wind. Rubbing his sore throat, he drew in deep breaths of air. What was rather close!

Turning around, he saw a group of them advancing. Without hesitation, he whipped up his gun and shot them one by one like flies. That's what they were anyway. Scrawny insects savaging on trash to make themselves menacing towards the weak, spreading their contagious disease like leprosy. How sickening! How idiotic they were to waste their miserable lives for a myth!

Leaning against a tree, he stared expressionlessly at the evergreen canopy. The sun's rays barely filtered in but sufficiently enough for him. In the shades, he was nicely shielded for the time being. All those imbeciles that making him running about for nothing! Thank goodness they were all dead, every single one of them.

Soon, in tiny patters, raindrops fell on the ground in polka dots, puddles then entirely. Its coolness blew over Sanzo's flushed face. Pressing his lips, he made himself comfortable between the spaces of the arched tree roots. Wrapping himself around his robes, he rested his head upon the folds of his arms, closed his eyes and slept. The endless fights were exhausting, wearying him constantly. At first, the fights weren't that many in the beginning but it grew numerously as he grew older. There was no surprise to that. If the demons had any common sense left in that nut brain of theirs, they should know that he was a dangerous threat, as he grew older day by day.

As he slept soundly under the shelter of the old tree, a demon merged out from his hiding place. Treading quietly, the demon loomed over Sanzo. His silt eyes glittered as he raised his mace for the killing blow. Unexpectedly, the demon felt a whizzing pain through his chest. Dilated eyes trembled at the sight of the gun aiming at him, hot wisps of smoke was whirling around the surface. With a cry, he too faded away like dust.

Sanzo grunted and went back to sleep. Another moron.

When he awoke, he felt the whole sky had crashed on his head, shrouding him with their feverish chill. The bones in his body were aching unbearably, his lips parched and a disturbing heat burning within him. Pressing his forehead, Sanzo felt his hand was as hot as a coal in a furnace. Damn, a fever! Searching through his bundle, he took an herb, chew and drank it down with water. Looking around, he found a nice crooked staff-like stick. Placing his weight upon it, he heaved himself up and started walking. Taking small durable steps, he walked on, hoping to reach the nearest village soon. At least, they should have a doctor, medical store or something helpful.

Each step was draining him, each step was wearing him out and each step seemed longer than the last. The environment was losing its shape and lines, like a smudged painting. Then, it came to the point when he could no longer drag himself an inch more. He blacked out.

For the next few days, he was out of reality. Drifting between space and time, he knew nothing except the light and the darkness. At times, something sweet and warm was flowing down in his throat. Voices from dimensions away, faint scents of wild flowers and grasslands of the lands he came across in his travels. At his age, he could probably travel more than any youngster could dream of. Yet, nothing gave him peace. Nothing gave him a sense of belonging. Nothing would ever will.

The first thing he saw clearly was the ceiling fan, spinning round and round like the hands of a clock, moving continuously. A soft wet towel was upon his forehead. Turning slightly, he saw a vase of lavender flowers, the purple petals glowing in the misty sunlight. Sitting himself straight, he observed the room whose hospitality he had yet to know. The usual necessities of a private room were there, consisting of a bed, table, chair, drawers and a curtain drawn window. Looking at himself, he was dressed in a loose linen shirt and pants.

Fairly cautious, he opened the door and walked down the staircase. Downstairs, he heard the clanging of the kitchen pots and pans blending in with a loud voice. Barely reaching the lowest step, a middle-aged woman burst in - a peasant plump woman with round rosy cheeks dressed in apron, headscarf and heavy soled boots. The moment she saw him, she boomed with friendly warmness.

"You are awake. Thank goodness we found you in time," Pressing her hand upon his forehead. "Ah! I see the nasty fever hasn't entirely out of you yet but you fought well during the past few nights." Holding his wrist with two fingers, she muttered. "Jeez! How skinny you are!" Gripping it. "Come! You must come with me to the kitchen at once! I will not let you leave till you are properly fed."

Sanzo didn't bother to argue with her. At any rate, he was feeling hungry.

The peasant woman, Juiko, proved her actions justified her words. With a laden spoon, she heaped a huge pile of meat and vegetables stew, accompanied by a big chuck of bread generously patted with creamy butter. Holding a kettle, she poured him a mug of hot milk tea. Sanzo would prefer beer to milk tea but he politely accepted and ate them all up, much to Juiko's satisfaction.

When he was finished, Juiko sat down, looked at him closely and said.

"Are you working for monastery?" She handed him a wrapped bundle.

"Yes," Sanzo replied and unwrapped the bundle. It was his Sutras.

"I see," Juiko clicked her tongue. "A monk to be? Since you have a red charka on your forehead."

"You could say that," he said slowly, not wanting to reveal too much.

Juiko smiled. "No need to be on guard. This house welcomes anyone who passes by or should I say welcome anyone who enters here." Pouring him a tiny cup of foamy seaweed liquid. "Drink this all up. It should help you with the fever."

Sanzo obediently did so. It tasted warm and honey-sweet. Pleased, Juiko patted his head, making him very uncomfortable with her womanly motherly attitude.

"What's your name?"

Then, a person came in. A young lady, dressed similar as Juiko, with chestnut braids pulled behind her ears. Acorn eyes twinkled youthful liveliness against her milky sculptured face. When her cerise lips parted, it was the loveliest voice he ever heard for a long time. It was very difficult compared to the women he had seen at the marketplaces, screeching and haggling over prices like their lives depended on them.

"Juiko! I'm back. Hm?" Looking at him. "So you awake! My name is Azami and you are…"

"Genjo," He bluntly replied.

Stop staring at her like an idiot!

"Genjo," Azami continued causally. "Juiko says you are going to be a monk." Mischievous curled her lips. "Are you a full-pledge monk?"

"No," He flatly lied.

Imbecile! What the heck are you doing?

"That's great!" Smiling, she gestured for a handshake. "I was worried at I might start off with the wrong foot since monks aren't allowed to have psychical contact with women but now, I guess it's okay, rite?"

He dumbly nodded and shook her hand. How incredibly soft and silky her touch was.

Come to think of it, it's his first time holding a woman's hand.

To Be Continued

Golly! So many reviews / suggestions / recommendations for the 1st Chapter! Thank you so much!!! (Overwhelmed). Erm... pls be patient with the Sanzo & Azami relationship thingy for it's still at under construction process. Chotto matte kudasai! GeneWeiß will finish the next chapter as soon as possible!