eleezyienne: I'm 15. Don't expect much.

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own Saiyuki?

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CHAPTER 2: Yielding To Death And Destiny (Retreat)

"Life isn't a puzzle to be solved, it's a mystery to be lived..."

There's nothing like a good sleep in the middle of a public sidewalk.

I woke up and smelled the wonderful scent of shit and urine. Shaking my head in disgust, I stood up with great difficulty. My knees were uncontrollably wobbly, my head felt like squashed potatoes, and my body felt like a heavy sandbag. All in all, I was in excruciating pain.

Still, I dragged myself out from that slum I just came from to look for something, anything, to eat. Shaking my head, I tried to push the thought of food away from my pathetic mind. It's bad enough not to eat for three days, and I don't want to make it worse by fooling myself that anytime now, I can have a proper meal. But no matter how hard I try, food dominated my entire thinking at that time. I was tired, hungry and cold. I badly needed something to nourish me. All of a sudden, I felt so weak.

I don't want to stop walking, though. It's the only thing I CAN do considering that I'm all weak and starving. However I realized that there's one more thing I'm capable of doing, too.

SING.

I smiled at myself as I remembered the only talent I have. Ever since I was a child, I've been singing my ass off everywhere I go. It was amazing to share SOMETHING. The poor doesn't have anything to give, share or show and we have to live with that self-degrading thought. We just receive charity from fucking bitches who calls themselves nuns or bald dickheads who call themselves 'monks'. But I never thought of that as Charity. They give something and even though they tell us a hundred times that they don't need something in return, in reality, they think that you owe them your entire existence. And that just sucks BIG TIME.

So, driven by my ultimate goal of rejecting hunger, I sat on a bench nearby and pulled my guitar close to me. I held it against my chest as if my life was depending on it. It is, after all, my ONLY treasure in life. I heaved a sigh and softly strummed its strings. And sang.

Then my hunger was replaced by my passion.

I didn't care if people stopped and looked at me disgustingly. All I care is that I'm playing my guitar and singing my song. It's a sad song about a promise of eternal love made by a helpless romantic. The kind of song that stopped existing a thousand of years ago.

**

I kept on singing aware that anytime now, I'd collapse of hunger. And as everything got blurry, I begin to see something inside me. And I begin to pity myself. I wished I would die right then and there. I wished someone or something would kill me as I sing my song oblivious of the pain. I wished I would just get tired of breathing and slowly die on my bed of sorrow with my guitar and my song. I wished life would just slip away…

I jerked a little as a rock landed on my shoulder. Still playing, I looked up and saw a group of boys laughing and aiming some stones at me. They looked like little devils driven mad by the fun of hurting somebody. I wondered if their mothers knew about this. I wondered if their mothers ever taught them some basic manners or if ever they were scolded or disciplined? Or do they even have mothers at all?

I suddenly felt a pang of pity, for them and myself. It was pitiful to think that these children of the world would just waste away and would leave the earth as bastards who never knew what life really meant. Or what life was supposed to mean. Their youth robbed off from them by poverty and cruel destiny, which was never possible to control.

And so I pitied myself. Because their faces were mirrors reflecting who I was and, probably, still am. Their eyes, pools of corrupted soul and endless ignorance, eerily resembled mine. They were never given any chances, just like me.

The rocks looked like arrows of death slowly piercing my skin together with my pride. And for a moment, I stopped playing and prepared to hit them with my own. But then, I begin to see in another light.

As the rain of rocks continued, my eyesight began to blur again and I felt an amount of pain I have never felt before. The rocks hit me as though it would come right through my skin. However, I played my guitar again. Receiving each and every blow wholeheartedly, close enough to welcoming them.

Suddenly, they weren't little devils or bastards anymore, they were more like the guardians of men. They were my exit to the world. I saw them as a gift given by my song. And it was the perfect gift, the gift of DEATH.

**

Blood trickled down my face and I could see my life slowly slipping away. My body was numbing in pain but my mind was in perfect shape. In fact, it had never been this clear before. So this is how it felt to die. The prelude of death was the sweetest thing I've ever felt before.

As the pain grew, I began to play even louder. Strumming my guitar madly, unaware of the shadow of four men coming my way. This was the climax of my sad story of worthless struggle. I was rocking not by pain but by the passion I felt. This was my last concert, my last song.

The last stone was thrown and I finally welcomed death. I hugged my guitar and laid myself down on the bench. My life was over and I smiled. Slowly, I took my last glimpse of the guardians of men. I wanted to thank them for giving me the chance to die a wonderful death.

**

And I froze with what I saw. The boys were gone and in their place were four men all dressed in weird clothing. I was sure I saw them somewhere and as I pondered that, one of them rushed towards me and extended his arms. I didn't notice what he was doing and I didn't really care.

I was too tired to care. Shutting my eyes, I succumbed to death totally.

The tunnel was there, and the light at the end was clear. I thought I have already closed my door. I thought I have ended my suffering. I thought all of my pain was gone. I thought I was permanently living my own dream. I thought everything a person would think when he's dead.

And I thought wrong, of course.

Destiny was playing tricks again. And instead of death, it gave me life.

However, I wasn't able to know that immediately. I slept soundly for the next three days believing that I was already living my next life instead of just having another stupid dream.

I was unconscious of everything outside. I was unaware of the hot weather, the jeep, the loud chattering and arguments, the occasional screech of what seemed to be a vile creature, the small flying dragon licking my face, and the watchful gazes of four men. And as I dreamed of having a small farm and performing songs, and endlessly being happy, it was clear that the gods and goddesses were planning something.

Something together with these four men.

oooOOooo