Shinku no En: The Crimson Bond
by UltraM2000
Disclaimer: Don't own Saiyuki…yet. Severe fluff, M2000 style and slight PWPness. Hopeless angsting by Houran.
"Safira, did you hear?" her companion asked as she walked towards her and some other friends. She put her nail file down and shrugged.
"About Gojyo, you mean, Hisa? Who hasn't? He hasn't been to the bar for the last two months! He doesn't even come round this part of the town anymore!"
"He's changed, hasn't he?"
"Changed is hardly the word! Did you know, I hear…" Safira lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. Her other friends gathered round. "I hear that he's gone clean! I saw him at the Tanabata fair last month with another lady!"
"…Saffie, what's the big deal with that?"
"The lady lives in his apartment, with Hakkai-san. I've seen her with him on the town the past month." The girls erupted with cries of disbelief.
"Eeeeeeeeeehhhh?! No way!! Gojyo has a steady girlfriend?"
"Gojyo has a steady girlfriend!"
"No shit, sister!"
"I'm serious. She's really pretty, too—a definite sweet young thing, about two or three years younger than Gojyo, and her hair's this really unusual colour. Like rose petals." The ladies began to chip in with information they had heard on the street and what they had seen for themselves.
"So are her eyes, I hear. Isn't it unusual that her eyes are such a beautiful wine-red like Gojyo's?"
"She must be really pretty if she could keep Gojyo away from us."
"She is. I've seen her doing shopping in the market, but I never connected her with him…!"
"Quite polite, too, isn't she?"
"Yeah. She's got an air of culture about her, that one."
Safira picked up her file and resumed her manicure. "Well, girls, it's official I suppose. There goes the neighbourhood."
It was early autumn now, and the air was brisk and the trees were just starting to shed their scarlet and gold foliage. New-fallen leaves crunched gently underneath two pairs of feet as Gojyo and Houran chatted as they strolled along, smiling and enjoying each other's company.
They would have continued doing so, had a voice not hailed Gojyo roughly from the nearby bar.
Gojyo turned, and saw a slightly drunken man stagger towards him, glaring at him with red-rimmed, watery grey eyes. His short, dirty-blonde hair was streaked liberally with white, and his paunch practically overflowed over his grey flannel trousers. Too much of the good life, it seemed.
"Hello Yaseki," drawled the half-demon, and not in a very friendly manner at that.
"Don't you 'hello Yaseki' me, you bastard. There's a debt you haven't paid me yet, and it's been outstanding for three bloody months! When am I getting back my seventy thousand yen, eh?" the drunkard cursed Gojyo. [1]
Gojyo's eyes narrowed very slightly, but Houran noticed it all right. "I paid it to you last week, buddy. Or were you so sloshed you don't remember where you put all that money? At least I happen to be smart enough not to drink myself under the table every night." The other gamblers who had gathered round to watch laughed themselves silly as Yaseki turned even redder in the face. Gojyo had paid the debt—they'd seen him do it—or at least, he had played a game with Yaseki that evened things out and made the bet null and void. Never let a gambler try and win back what he owes, especially when Gojyo's hands beckoned to Lady Luck with reckless abandon. They advised Yaseki to give it up and go back into the bar, have another drink. He'd probably spent Gojyo's money on that the same night.
The words rankled Yaseki badly, and as Gojyo bid his former mates farewell after introducing Houran to them ("Holy shit, Gojyo! You snared yourself a fair one!" "So that's why I don't see you at the bar!" "Settling down, are we? You'll stop smoking next!" "I already have, Tongpuu!"), he called out one last malicious remark.
"Yeah, and I suppose you never get drunk 'cause half-demons can take it better than humans?"
It was safe to say the whole street went silent at that.
"What didja say?" Gojyo replied without turning his head, sounding very much like a slowly boiling Genjyo Sanzo.
"What? WHAT? You think I'm suh-too-pid or what? Too many of our women got knocked up by filthy demons during the past few years and I've seen what those bastard children look like, dying in the streets with flies covering their naked bodies. Hair like blood and big, staring eyes the exact same colour, all of them. Is that what happened to you, eh, half-demon? Kinki no ko? Got thrown out on the streets like the rest of them? Brought yourself up and scrounged around to survive, huh, Gojyo?"
Gojyo closed his eyes. For some reason, the two thin scars on his cheek were beginning to itch like mad. The voices he heard were but buzzing sounds, as if far away in the background.
"Oi, Yaseki, that's too much."
"Don't you be a-telling me what I should and shouldn't do! That half-breed cheats me outta my cash and then he insults me! He deserves what he gets!"
"Does it matter?"
"Kinki no ko? Gojyo is a half-demon?"
"Who'd a thunk it?"
"It all falls in place now…"
"…half-breed girlfriend, too. Keeping it in the family, are we?" Gojyo felt disgusted seeing that lecherous smile on Yaseki's face, and his fists clenched.
"Gojyo-san…leave it be…" he heard Houran murmur worriedly. In response, what did he do but release his grip on her hand, stride over to Yaseki and punch him right in the kisser. Observers that day swear there was a Doppler effect to Yaseki's surprised scream as he flew several feet backwards.
"You wanna keep putting that big stinky foot in your big stinky mouth, not my bloody problem," Gojyo growled. His fist was still as hard as it had ever been, Yaseki noted wryly. "But do it out of my sight. All of you." An old wound had reopened within him today, but one inflicted by no mortal creature.
The drunkard staggered to his feet, spitting out a bit of blood at Gojyo's foot, unrepentant and unwilling to give it up. "I have m'rights, don't I? I'll say what I want, and if you won't repay me my debt, I'll have to take somethin' of yours by force!" Out of his trousers he pulled a sharp, gleaming knife and charged.
Straight towards Houran.
Houran yelped in fright, and ducked. The knife passed with a whoosh over her head, but Yaseki poised to stab and brought the blade down upon her helpless back. Gojyo ran towards him, snarling under his breath, but knowing somewhere in the depths of his kappa brain he would never be able to stop the blow. Unless…Gojyo changed tack, barged in from the side and took the blow himself.
Which is exactly what he did.
The knife's edge sank an inch deep into Gojyo's right wrist before he managed to send another punch at Yaseki's jaw. With a wild cry, he then jerked his right arm up, sending the knife spinning through the air and sticking into the packed ground up to the hilt. One well-placed kick in the nuts and a punch to the solar plexus, and all of Yaseki's hot air was knocked out of him with a frightening whoosh. He slumped to the ground in a dead faint and Gojyo stood there, breathing hard, dusting himself off. It was then, when a smear of blood—a big one—appeared on his shirt that he turned his attention to his wounds.
"Oh no, Gojyo…your wrist!"
"It's…nothing," he lied, surprised at how bad the pain was becoming. He shook off the concerned hand on his arm and stood up. "Tongpuu, do us a favour and take Houran home."
"Uh, ok. Houran-chan…"
"But Gojyo...-san, where are you going?"
"Don't worry about that. I'm going to get something done about this wrist. I have other errands to run…and I think, for your safety, I'll do them alone."
When Gojyo returned, Hakkai was sitting up drinking a cup of tea and reading through a thick paperback. He looked up when he heard the door open, and his eves flicked to Gojyo's wrist. It was bandaged quite a bit.
"How…"
"Seven stitches."
"Ah." Hakkai sat down again and motioned for Gojyo to do the same, pushing his mug of tea towards the half-demon. "I haven't been able to get anything out of Houran. What actually happened?"
"Yaseki tried to squeeze some more money outta me again. He apparently got smart on the deeper meaning of this—" he took a long gulp from the mug of green tea as he gave his hair a careless flick—"and tried to attack Houran to get me to cough up the cash. I got my wrist slashed in the process."
"You tried to protect her?"
"Obviously."
Hakkai smiled. "Very chivalrous of you, Gojyo."
A thin shrug accompanied his reply. "Chivalrous, nothing. He needed to be taught a lesson in how to treat ladies. Speaking of which, where's Houran?"
"Asleep, I should think. She went to bed a long time ago."
"But it's barely ten o'clock!"
"Well," Hakkai said delicately, arranging the tips of his fingers together, "she said she wasn't feeling well…" He looked up at Gojyo, his eyes saying silently Perhaps you should find out the true reason.
Gojyo was a little smarter than he let on—not all of his power was concentrated in those pants. He took another gulp of tea, got up from the table and knocked on the door to Houran's…his room. Putting his ear to the door, he heard nothing but quiet, slightly fast breathing. "Houran? Babe? Y'awake in there?" Receiving no answer, he opened the door slowly.
Houran was awake, all right—she was sitting up in bed with the blankets in a heap below her feet, arms hugging her bent legs and her chin resting on her knees. Her hair was loose, flowing down her back and across the sheets like a roseate river.
Gojyo realised she looked hopelessly beautiful when she was sad.
"Houran? You didn't get hurt during that little skirmish, did you?"
"No, but you did," she said in a small, sad voice, "and that's enough for me. You should have just let things be."
"And let someone insult my pride? You don't know how I function, then. The wrist's fine. It was just a scratch," he lied. "Look, at least it matches the one on the left."[2] Houran didn't laugh at the lame joke.
"I'm sorry." She felt tears sting her eyes and turned away, suddenly feeling very small and silly. "I really am sorry…I didn't mean to get you hurt again," she choked out, suddenly embracing Gojyo tightly as she stifled a harsh sob. The man was rather taken aback, but wrapped his arms around her back and shook his head.
"What're you talking about?" Gojyo snorted, feeling a prickle of unpleasantness run through his veins. "I should'a seen that blow coming from a mile away. I almost got you hurt at the same time."
"Gojyo-san…"
"…drop the san. I've done nothing to deserve that sort of respect," he added quietly. He broke the embrace and cupping her chin in one of his hands, he raised her head to look at him. "Go to sleep, and quit thinkin' about all this nonsense. We can keep this for tomorrow morning," he said before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
The maid's heart sank like a stone, and she bit her lip. He had lied—Houran had seen how much the wound pained him, how gingerly he had moved the wrist. It sickened her that she could have been the cause of it, no matter what Gojyo might have said to her. He didn't seem to realise how much this meant to her, how much it troubled her.
But he did, really.
…I didn't mean to get you hurt again…
She had been crying. Damn the tears, and damn their cause. Gojyo turned over on his side for the 33rd time that night, and sighed deeply. Look who's talking, Gojyo…leave it for tomorrow morning, my foot. He looked up at the ceiling fan continuing its slow rotation over its head.
Truth be told, he was, in fact, quite shaken that Houran thought it her fault he got hurt. It wasn't, honestly! he thought exasperatedly. It was a reflex action. Men are protectors. Women are the protected. It was probably the one childhood teaching that had remained uncorrupted in his mind. It felt strange, almost…new. No woman had ever cared in such a way before, as they always saw him as a garrulous gambler and suave lover.
What shook him more was that he now felt very much the same way. It was the first time he had cared about a woman in such a way in more than fifteen years. This was the real thing, something definitely deeper. It was getting harder and harder to explain what it was like, being around someone who finally understands, but Gojyo didn't feel like looking for more explanations. He studied the nails on his left hand for a while. Perhaps Samadhi's warning back then hadn't just been mere crap. Perhaps en truly existed. Could be they felt just like this, the sense of belonging and warmth and empathy and love…
Right, he really had to be coo-coo if he was seeing truth in the words of three Floating Heads ™. Still, something needed doing about it, because in the end when all was said and done, Gojyo didn't want to see Houran hurt on his account.
Something must change, he thought as he closed his eyes, and preferably, fast.
[1] Confirmed from the end of manga arc 'Charismatic' (Vol. 1, pg 129).
Sila: What's the meaning of this 860 yen overdraft?!
[2] Reference to Requiem when Houran was ordered to kill Gojyo. She only managed to wound his left wrist.ceres17 -- Do they have it in VCD form? I don't have a DVD player. And mushy is what I'm aiming for! ;)
Firnheledien -- Please do. ^o^ And as for Gojyo-san—hey,
if he wasn't chaste, it wouldn't be very M2000-ish, would it?
Gojyo: Firn-cha...-san, I'm surprised that you would ever
doubt my integrity around a woman.
M2000: Y'know, Goj, your track record with ladies isn't exactly squeaky
clean, although your ethics are in the right place.
Gojyo: ...Exactly whose side are you on, M2000?!
Ashura A. -- Hehe... I had to make the confession 'special', right? ;) Don't worry, Gojyo will get to speak his heart in future chapters. We're definitely talking about the Chinese Valentine's Day here. Not the Lantern Festival, cus that's 15th of the 8th month, or the Hungry Ghost Festival, 15th of the 7th month. Seeing how you all want to see Kou, I've altered the ending especially for you guys.