Disclaimer: Characters of Gensoumaden Saiyuki belong to Minekura Kazuya.
Many thanks to reviewers/lurkers (I know you are out there!)
1/2 Beta-read by: Greta
Turbulent Days: Chapter 3: WhirlwindHe longed desperately for a drink the moment he stepped out of the ravaged gambling shop, but the non-too-familiar wailing of oncoming sirens changed his mind for him. Not that he was particularly inclined for another night at a karaoke club with his men (a typical way of celebration for them), which always ended with him being pawed by a lucky hostess while his men pawed other hapless hostesses in return.
As the driver of their get-up van started the engine, he decided that picking up a six-pack from the convenient store close to his apartment would be a very good idea instead.
Staring at the raindrops splattering against the window from his place at the shotgun seat, he replayed the words of the late runner of the gambling place in his mind. Again and again. Every time he pressed the mental "replay" button, he could only come to the same immutable conclusion. The person wholly responsible for the murder of his mentor was he. Images of an enigmatic face came with the pronunciation of that conclusion. A face that looked upon the world through eyes that were constantly nursing a secret amusement. A face that presented to the world only its enigmatic lop-sided smile and cryptic maxims. If what I think is true is true, I need… I have to… have to…
He had to get roaring drunk tonight.
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On this cold rainy night I don't want to go home
Only to watch you turn away from me
Staring at the raindrops with a bitter smile instead
I fail to find the courage
To tell you what I have to say
- Steve Wong Ka-keung ( mutilation by H.)
Rain or no rain [1], he had already gone through three cans by the time he walked out of the lift to his seventh floor apartment, a gift he had received to signify his ascendancy from the lowly foot soldier to the rank of Straw Sandal three years ago. It was his mentor's last personal gift to him.
He stepped into the familiar darkness, not bothering to turn on the light. He did not think he could bear sitting in a brightened living room at this moment. He needed the shadows. He needed to feel something enveloping him in his misery in face of the bitter truth. They - he and his mentor - had been so betrayed. That in itself should not have been earth-shattering news to any 49-ers worth his salt. Treachery was common in their world. But to have it coming from the least expected source still devastated Sanzo.
What had that man stood to gain?
The illogicalness of the betrayal made it all the more maddening. It was like waking up one morning to find that the sun had forgotten to rise in the east, or that water had started to flow uphill. It added a troublesome, and dangerous step to his plan of revenge. He had wanted to kill the guilty party with his own hands all right, but now he would have to look into that man's eyes and asked him: "Why?" That meant nothing but a close-range assault would fit his plan now.
He drained a last gulp from his fourth can of beer and hurled it viciously against the glass sliding door that opened to the balcony. He was practically ripping the tab off the fifth can when a timid voice called out to him in the dark:
"Sanzo? You are back."
A flash of lightning illuminated the living room. A small, but definitely masculine hand, reaching for the light switch, froze in mid-air as Sanzo spoke: "Don't."
Later, had anyone dared to ask, Sanzo would have pleaded temporary insanity for the night's act. He did not know where the impulse that drove him to that act sprang from - he could have blamed the beer (Come on, he would say to himself, four cans and you were drunk senseless?), he could have blamed the state of shock he was in (at the discovery of the identity of the traitor). But in the end, he could only find one clear reason for his behavior: he must have been out of his mind.
"Come here," he commanded to the slight figure in the dark.
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He held the smaller form close to him, breathing in the sweet scent of the chestnut-tinted hair, and felt a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his own naked waist. For the first time in his life, he knew that
I belong here.
Even if he refused to acknowledge the overflowing wetness in his eyes, he had to admit the rightness of that feeling of belonging.
The boy had amazed him.
What he had first thought would be a crude attempt at rape had happened like the most natural thing in the world. The way the kid had responded to his boorish caresses, his artless kisses. As if he had expected them from Sanzo. As if they had always been doing it all this while. It all felt so right. Right as rain.
Sanzo could find no other words for what they had shared,
Right as rain. [2]
The boy breathed lightly against his chest, murmuring a name that, to Sanzo, seemed both alien and yet familiar at the same time.
"What was that?" Sanzo asked as he drew away momentarily to pluck a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand.
"Oh nothing," came the answer. A pair of eyes that seemed more golden than light brown looked up at him. Does he wear those contacts all the time? Sanzo thought curiously as he fumbled for the lighter among the discarded pile of clothes.
"I forgot that that is not your name this time."
Somehow Sanzo managed to stay his hand long enough to light the cigarette. Even in his vexation, he was amused to realize that this was his first post-coital smoke.
Yes, and I was probably the last virgin in the River and the Lake [3]. And the fun part is, my first lay is this funny kid who keeps on insisting that…
"Why do you always talk that way?" Putting an arm back on the curve of the boy's waist, Sanzo snapped, sounding harsher than he intended to.
Golden eyes never wavered. They seemed to shine brighter than ever as their owner intoned:
"We have always found each other in the end."
Sanzo rolled his eyes in exasperation. Please, not that line again. The line this strange boy had inflicted on him from the very first night he had brought him to his home, after bumping into him in an incidence Sanzo would rather not recall.
It has happened before. Countless times. Interesting times.
- when we fled south from the Northern Barbarians, who had breached the Great Wall
-when, led by Ri Jisei, we marched to the Northern Capital in that ill-fated peasant rebellion that hastened the fall of the Ming
- when we fought against the red-haired barbarians who brought the poison to the Middle Kingdom
- that fateful Christmas when the Eastern Barbarians took this island city
We met, and we parted.
Yes, all the nonsense the kid had been spouting from the moment they met. Despite (or maybe because of) the pleasure they had just shared, Sanzo suddenly decided that the unnerving mumbo-jumbo would have to stop. Now.
"Oh?" Sanzo replied, turning sideways with a scowl to puff out grayish smoke. Damn it, I have to get used to smoking while having another non-smoker around in such a close position. "Suppose you tell me, Goku, what was my name the time before this one, hmm?"
This time the disbelieving sarcasm in his voice succeeded in dampening the sparkle in that annoyingly eager look. Look that was always hopeful that Sanzo would remember. Annoyingly hopeful.
The boy called Goku dropped his gaze desolately. Pulling himself out of Sanzo's one-armed embrace, he plopped petulantly on the edge of the bed, staring down at his own legs, which dangled just above the floor.
"You still don't believe."
"Humor me."
"Kei-bin." [4]
Goku looked up as a derisive snort escaped Sanzo's lips.
"Why is it so hard to make you see this time? What went wrong?" he whined. "Didn't anything I told you ring a bell, strike a chord, fire a… a…," he struggled for the word, "…resonance?" Having finished the speech, and seeing its effect (or lack of) on the man's face, Goku went back to staring at the floor.
If I remember correctly, you didn't use to be this___ smart with words. I see that you are improving. Stupid monkey.
Sanzo blinked, and shook his head angrily. First the kid's nonsense, now this spate of totally crazy random thoughts invading his consciousness. Pull yourself together! And so he summoned the old self he knew so well, that competent, cynical good old Sanzo, leader of gang-fights and organizer of the extortion racket in his part of the city.
"I was a woman then? So you used to do to me what I just did to you? Or were we both women then?" Sanzo leaned towards the downcast boy. The hand not holding the cigarette raised Goku's chin roughly.
Unfazed, the boy took Sanzo's hand in his own.
"It does not matter."
Goku bent to kiss the fingers.
"I'll always find you. Every lifetime. We meet, then we part. That is our curse, and our joy. And sometimes we get to meet the other two__"
Shit. Somebody should enlarge his vocabulary. The rest of the boy's words went unheard as Sanzo's temper flew into oblivion.
"Oh yes, and I suppose you'll keep on being reincarnated so that you can continue to annoy me. And I'll keep on being reborn just to fulfill the purpose of your every life…" the tirade halted abruptly as the boy gently placed a finger on his lips.
Goku shook his head [5] sadly.
"It's not the same for me."
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When he looked sad, he reminded Sanzo of another person. The only other person he had picked up from the streets. The only other person he had allowed into the private shell of his life. A sad face, of ruined beauty, loomed in his mind. Sanzo's thought flew to an incident that occurred two years ago.
He was on one of his "collection rounds" when alarms of an anti-vice raid [6] were raised throughout the massage parlor. Praying that whoever had planned the raid had overlooked the fire escape, Sanzo flew down the rusty metal stairs, the outraged cries of the "masseurs" and their clients barely covering the thumping of his shoes against the steel steps. He was relieved to find no one at the end of his frantic descent.
He had been mistaken.
A hand clutched his arm.
Sanzo whirled around just in time to catch the fainting man. As the dead weight slumped upon him, he could feel the dampness beneath the stranger's coat. He stared at the maroon spot on his own bare arm.
"Hey mister, you okay there?"
The pale face
of ruined beauty
(How much blood has he lost? Sanzo thought as he shook the man.)
of profound sadness
looked up at him as its owner regained consciousness, answering Sanzo in a weak whisper:
"I am all… all right."
All right my ass. From the corner of an eye, Sanzo espied a figure in a familiar uniform approaching them. Fuck. Just what I needed. A policeman on his beat. Praying for the second time of the night, Sanzo forced the injured man to his knees and spoke loudly as he patted the man's back: "Are you okay now? You shouldn't have that last drink, damn you!" His accidental accomplice, as if catching on to the act, braced a hand against the wall and started to retch, loud enough for the law enforcer to hear.
Sanzo breathed a sigh of relief as the officer walked past them, a patronizing look mixed with disgust on his face.
He guessed they had the gods to thank for the dim lighting at the back lane.
They continued the ruse for a few minutes, just to be sure. When Sanzo decided it was safe enough, he helped the man up. And not a moment too soon too. The blood loss took its final toll as the body in his arms went limp. In the darkness of the deserted lane, a very vexed Sanzo cursed as he was left holding an unconscious stranger.
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[1] My tribute to the Saiyuki fic writer I revere the most: Elizabeth-sama, the author of Rain.
[2] Again, my homage to Elizabeth-sama. May I say (again) that not a day passes that I do not reread my local copies of her magnum opus, Rain, which is the epitome of the ultimate exercise in that highest of all callings: practical jokes.
[3] Kong-wu (pinyin: jianghu) - euphemism denoting society, or the world (in general), or the underworld (among triad members).
[4] Wai-man (pinyin: huimin) – an obviously feminine name. I know. I simply love to mutilate Chinese characters. But then, is it honor, or honour, gentlemen?
[5] Goku's limiter: a source of sleepless nights for many a reincarnation fic author. This author managed to hit upon the solution (a lame one indeed), which will be revealed as the story goes along. Patience.
[6] Very colorful term in Cantonese: so wong, literally, "clear the yellow", "yellow" being the euphemism for the oldest profession in the world.
Coming soon:
Turbulent Days: Chapter 4: Immolation
Hakkai's tragic past. Gonou took macabre revenge on Kanan's death by killing his own clan head, unknowing that both he and Big Boss had been played for fools by a treacherous character, none other than the modern personification of… Chin Ii Sou!
Annoying Notes:
Glossary - If you are interested:
(Triad ranking, lowest to highest – Cantonese romanization, English translation, symbolic number)
*Sorry, I can't be bothered to "translate" them to pinyin. Anyway, any HK movie fans worth his salt should try to learn the tongue (like I did ^_^)*
1. Sei-kau Chai (Ordinary Members, foot soldiers, 49-ers) 49
2. Cho Hai (Straw Sandal) 432
3. Pak Tsz Sin (White Paper Fan) 415
4. Hung Kwan (Red Pole) 426
5. Sin Fung (Vanguard) 438
6. Heung Chu (Incense Master) 438
7. Fu Shan Chu (Deputy Mountain Master) 438
8. Shan Chu (Mountain Master) 489
Stolen from "crime.socialwork.hku.hk"
Note: I ignored the modernized ranking system, which adds a position subordinate to that of 49-ers: Blue Lantern, and basically ignores ranks higher than Red Pole. You can go to the above site to find out more about the ranking system (if you are interested - in the right direction, I hope).
