Disclaimer: Characters of Gensoumaden Saiyuki belong to Minekura Kazuya.
Note: For parts in which original character(s) feature(s) (too) prominently, the title is marked with an *. So that you can skip 'em if you want. For this chapter, scroll right down to the second half for Sanzo-ikkou's part.
Ryou gets depressed*He reached out for the copy of one of the four papers he always bought wherever he went. The boy at the newsstand watched dully as he threw the coins on counter. Hmm, nothing new under the sun for you kiddo, Ryou [1] thought, gray eyes crinkling with amusement. Bored housewives and matrons were not the only people who read this kind of tabloids. "Demon burst in spontaneous combustion". "Bosatsu-sama seen cavorting in strip club." "Taboo baby cannibalized own mother." "Farmer claims he saw disintegrating jeep." The tabloids with that kind of headlines splashed across its pages. Ryou read those tabloids because he knew that, sooner or later, he would see the headlines he wanted to on one of the pages. It did not matter if it was just a one-column article on page five. Sooner or later. He knew, because he had seen an article of his interest thrice before. The third article was the reason why he was here in this town in the first place.
He debated with himself whether to go into the tavern next to the newsstand or straight back to his room in the inn across the river. A few drinks before tucking in with some reading would be nice, so Ryou found himself settling down on an empty stool and balancing the sack containing his wares (plus one newspaper) on his knees.
"Beer," he informed the bartender above the din. Some sort of a show was going on somewhere in the tavern. Ryou turned towards the source of the clashes and whines. It was an itinerant storyteller type of show. The whines were courtesy of a young girl on stringed instrument (whatever these people call them, Ryou thought sourly). A graying man provided the sound effects with his cymbals.
Ryou's eyebrow furrowed, fingers tapping on the counter grumpily. He would be damned if he were going to have to listen to those tall tales when all he really wanted was to enjoy his beer. He was starting to have second thoughts about the idea of drinking in this place when the boy behind the bar placed his order before him.
"Here you are, sir."
At least the twit did not address him as "Uncle". Ryou smiled nastily, remembering how two towns away, his stare had nearly turned a youthful bartender into tears for daring to address him with that familiar term. That night, Ryou had correctly been "sir" for the rest of his stay at the bar. As he tilted his head back, savoring the wonderful bitter taste of the fiery liquid in his throat, he caught a glimpse of a red-haired youth making his way down the stairs. Probably coming from the gambling den. And richer than when he first walked in, by the smug look on his face.
Great Protector! Ryou almost spurted. That arrogant stride, the showy way he tossed his long blood-colored hair, shamelessly proclaiming to the world what he was…. What kind of taboo child dared to appear in the public in such a pretentious attitude? Ryou observed some furtive glances and whispers from a few tables as the tall man continued towards the exit, but that was all there was to it. The relatively placid reaction of the patrons might probably be explained by the vaguely dangerous stance in the half-breed's languid movements: "I bite", it seemed to say.
In the many towns he had passed through, Ryou had seen quite a number of taboo children, mostly
There was one.
dead, hanging by lampposts or lying like dogs in the gutters. The ones still alive would not be for long anyway. And you rarely
There was one very much alive when I left him.
got to see a specimen as bold as the flamboyant young man who was making his way across the tavern. Ryou grimaced, a disgusted look forming on his weather-beaten face. Those abominations
Where could you be now? This world or the other…
would still have been tolerated had it not been for the demon madness, started a little more than a year ago. Back in the old days, you might even have a family of demons as your neighbor, or a demon-boy serving you your beer, if you lived in the right town. Great Protector! Ryou cursed under his breath for the second time that night. In a way, the madness (Ryou refused to call it the Minus Wave – what a ridiculous name these people came up with!) was a blessing. It opened the eyes of these people. So that they saw those pointy-eared bastards for what they really were. If only they knew… Ryou stopped the thought, as horror-tinged sorrow crept in his heart. Wake up, all of you.
The girl struck a new note. The storyteller seemed to have begun a fresh tale. The half-breed paused at the exit, turning slowly, as if the new story had caught his interest. As Ryou started to listen in earnest, he, too, was caught. His mug laid untouched for the next half an hour. [2]
After the story ended, he had ten more mugs. He told himself that he needed the break, that the story had depressed him. He forgot his usual precautions about not having one too many, especially with the proceeds of the day's business in his pockets. He had the ten mugs, and more, because he finally had succeeded in doing what he had failed to do in the last twenty years or so - lying to himself. Oh, he was lonely and he was so, so tired. He had been searching for so long, without anything to show for all his pains except the three clipped tabloid articles pasted in his journal. All of his forty-three years weighed down on him. Oh, he was depressed, so he had the right to be drunk for just one night, okay?
Fall from grace. Reincarnation into lesser beings.
The tale did not sadden him actually. He was outraged, barely able to hold back from hurling the mug at the performing duo, at the bartender, at the few remaining patrons. What do they know? He ranted in silence, gulping down more of the intoxicating liquid. What do these people know? Being demoted from god to human is not the worse thing that could happen to one. That way, you always forget. There was at least one matter more horrible than that. And these morons turned it into a vulgar romance, telling of fallen gods come to save the world in their current mortal avatars.
Hey relaxed old man, it's just an inane tale these peasants enjoy to hear, especially in times like this, a cold logical voice sounded in his head, which had started to pound ponderously. Tomorrow morning wouldn't be a pretty sight indeed.
[1] Wanderer. A pun on the kanji tabigarasu, literally, traveling raven. Yes, original character #2.
[2] Supposedly this was a vernacular adaptation of the first part of the Tale of the Monkey, telling of the downfall of Konzen, Goku, Marshal Tenpou, General Kenren and Goujun of the Western Sea Celestial Army. Actually Gojyo was just checking out the erhu-playing girl – he disappeared about the end of the first out of tens of verses. Ryou listened on, and was affected ~ by the gloomy tone of the story, I guess.
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Goku has a midnight snack A movement from the other bed caught Hakkai's sight."Is the light bothering you, Goku?" he asked, marking his place in the novel he had been trying to finish since he filched it from the monks at a certain memorable mountain temple.
"No, it's not the light," Goku said as he pushed the blanket aside. "It's just that…" he hung his head, as if in despair, for a long moment. Hakkai was beginning to worry that the boy would start on that again, when Goku broke his silence: "I'm sooo hungry, Hakkai."
"Ha ha ha." A relieved laughter escaped Hakkai's mouth. He should have known. There was only one reason why Son Goku would wake up in the middle of the night: his belly. "I'm sure we can whip up a nice supper from the stuffs Gojyo bought today."
After the "nice supper", an inspiration had suddenly come to Goku: the boy wanted to take a walk - alone, and in the wee hours of the day too. Hakkai did find that a little odd, but the mother-hen instinct in him failed to see any danger in letting Goku have his way. After all, the fools (demon or human) unlucky enough to pick on the boy would have more to worry about than Hakkai have anything to fret about Goku. Yes, no harm in that. And so Hakkai let him go after some perfunctory don't-be-out-too-late nagging.
With Goku gone, Hakkai returned (or at least, tried to) to the novel.
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Ryou did not really feel that bad until he stood up, or tried to. Should have known better, he berated himself softly as the tavern spun around him. So instead of getting up immediately, he fished the correct change plus the exact amount of tip from his pocket and placed them carefully on the counter. He was glad to see that the hand that was slapping down the coins was perfectly steady.
"Keep the change, boy," he said to the bartender, smugly believing that there was no slurring in his words. The boy looked at him for an instant longer than was proper before collecting the coins, counting them with unhurriedly.
When the boy did not say anything about the payment being short or the tip being over-generous (would he?), Ryou stood up slowly and started towards the door.
He hit both sides of the entrance as he stepped out of the tavern.