eleezyienne: OK, so I started another fic...but I'm not sure if this is going to be good. I'm just bored and the idea just suddenly appeared. I'm betting this is going to be one of those junk fics that'll eventually rot...

Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki.

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Chapter 1: The Composer

"Life is just a Song..."

I am a composer. I write songs not because of money but rather because of the thought that one day, somebody will sing my song. I find it greatly remarkable to make something out of nothing. It's wonderful to know that people, helpless as we are, can create beauty that didn't exist thirty minutes ago. To write THE song is my supreme ambition. To hear my song is my greatest pleasure. To be loved by my song is my utmost fear.

My inspiration is everywhere. It lies beneath us for me to find. It hides its beauty away from ignorance for me to discover. It remains to be untouched for me to conquer. It's an extraordinary thing labeled ordinary by shallow minded infidels. It can take in any form, may it be a flower, a child, an emotion or an individual. It's everything around us. It's life.

But I have my greatest inspiration, my mind.

I met them a year ago. I considered it a brief encounter with destiny. However, I have a very strange practice of not accepting destiny no matter how tempting it is. For me, life is a continuous voyage of evading one's destiny. I refuse to be controlled by my god. Therefore, I shall live as I see fit. Away from the course of time, away from destiny. But destiny has a funny way of making things work exactly the way it wants it to. And so, I remain a desperate prisoner of my own life.

They liberated me for a while, though. And I'll never forget how contented I was. To live a life to the fullest. To be standing at the edge of my own cliff everyday. To face danger without any fear. And to be loved, of course. Nevertheless, it was only for a moment. And moments last. Unfortunately...

I never got to see them again. I never even got to say goodbye. Although goodbyes are undeniably painful, I longed to say my farewell. Even if I have to let out every bit of my anguished heart which will surely either bore the hell out of them or make them laugh so hard. I just want to know that this'll be the end. But I never had the chance. And I'll never know when I'll be finished. Their memory hunts me...like my unfinished symphony.

This is my story...

***

12-25

I have no money. My stomach rumbled so loud I'm sure people can still hear it. I haven't eaten for three days and I'm lucky enough to be still walking. It's snowing and everything's cold. The park, the house, the people. I hate Decembers and I wished it never existed.

Carrying my guitar with my right hand and my left buried under my pocket, I headed to a small inn away from the outskirts of the town where everybody knew me by my first name 'Cheyenne'. I never knew how I came up with that name. But I'm sure I made it up a couple of years ago. I really don't know what my proper name is. All I know is that my bitch of an auntie called me 'Puta'...which unsurprisingly means bitch. I have dreamed to be called as "Delilah" or "Eve" or "Mary" like other nice girls but as I grew up, I came to realize that I'm more like what my auntie calls me, a bitch.

Of course, I never really knew what bitch meant.

As I entered, I noticed that the inn was practically almost empty except for an old man behind the counters and four rough looking guys at the center. Foreigners. I was sure they came from somewhere else, with their weird clothes and odd ornaments. I shrugged and directly seated myself at the far right corner of the room.

After a while, a waitress appeared out of nowhere and asked for my orders. I said I just dropped by for some water and could she please give it to me? I found out that this waitress were like the other waitresses I've met. They ask you what you want so sweetly and when you finally tell them, they turn cold as ice. Sometimes they would even mutter a curse or two but it didn't really bother me at all. I can't blame them.

I stared at the foreigners as I waited for my water. It looked like they were having a feast and I can't help but salivate my ass off. I wondered how that fried noodle tasted like. I swallowed my own saliva as I saw the kid gulped it down in less than a second. He must have been hungrier than I am to gulp down the whole thing. I must have looked quite embarrassing gawking like some malnourished freak of nature and when the red head looked at me, I quickly turned away blushing. I am so pathetic.

I saw the old guy walk towards me with the bitchy waitress giving me the 'Your-going-to-be-kicked-out' look. I straightened my back and sat as properly as I could. I don't want to look like some beat up squatter while the old geezer's trying to kick me out. I came inhaled slowly and tried to calm my nerves.

"We don't give water for free." The old man said calmly but I was sure he was ready to kick my ass out anytime now. I looked at him and reasoned out, "Water's are always for free."

"Not here missy." That's the time I knew I had to use my speaking abilities to pull my act off. It's hard having no money. If only I could earn one. But who am I kidding?

"I just need water. That's all."

He was such a persisting moron and I tried hard not to laugh. If this wasn't his inn, I would have made a laughing stock out of him. He raised an eyebrow, "Please get out." Please get out? Now, where did I hear that again? I gave him a sarcastic smile. I didn't want to be embarrassed all my life. And so I remained seated not looking at anybody, not caring at anything.

"Go out----"

"Hey, didn't you hear what she said? She's staying." I knew it was one of them. What are they going to do now? I decided to hear them out and act as if I wasn't there. Foreigners were always weird. Always.

"But mister, she's not paying anything. And---"

"Well, has she ordered yet?"

"Water. Which just means that she has no money whatsoever." Aw, secrets...gone!

"We're paying." That took my attention. Did he just said he was paying? I turned to know who it was and saw the red head standing, grinning at me. He gave me a smile and continued, "Just tell her, it's from me. Sha Gojyo."

Sha Gojyo. I watched him as he handed a gold card to the man and nodded at me. The man was surely dumbfounded. He shook his head briefly and asked for my orders. Too bad I don't accept charity.

I grabbed the gold card away from the man and walked towards the group of guys. I noticed that they were strangely still. I stopped beside the red head and looked at him. He grinned and asked, "Thanking?" Thanking? He IS foreign. I gave him a sharp look and threw the gold card at him. "I have no use for that." I looked at his companions and shook my head in disgust. These are exactly the people who makes life a living hell. Quickly, I turned away an exited the room making sure that I looked cool doing so. I have been embarrassed too much.

***

I don't have a place to stay and I don't know where I'm heading, but I couldn't care less. I only need my mind and my guitar with me. Nothing more. But there was something bothering me. The guy with the gold hair. He looked so familiar. Where did I see him again? What bothered me most was his sutra around him. It looked like the same sutra I have. Except mine had a darker green color. Then it hit me, could I have been connected to him?

I sat down at the side of the road, resting my tired legs. I looked at my worn out shoes and hoped it would hang on a little more. If I ever get hold of money, I'm going to make sure I buy myself a good and sturdy shoe this time. If ever.

I was left by my own thoughts again. And I couldn't help but wonder about that sutra around the blond. He was a Sanzo, the red mark on his forehead said it all. A man close to god...

But why did he have the Sutra of Heaven and Hell? Did he have the curse, too...?

I fell asleep with that thought.

***

eleezyienne: So, how is it? Sorry for the typos!

*Please RxR, if you have time.