No fear, I haven't given up on Circles yet. Bear with me as I beat the bunnies into some semblance of a plot. And thank you for coming this far.
GENSOUMADEN SAIYUKI
Gensoumaden Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya.
A/U. Four individuals will play key roles in the change that is coming to the Holy Land.
CIRCLES
PART FIVE: REDEMPTION'S SIN I
It's been said that Destiny is the end that begets a beginning. It is to die to the past and be free.
It is a stupid notion. Destiny is not a release – it is a binding that explains nothing and expects everything.
My duty is to the Aspects, but the codes and formalities of the priesthood do not fetter me. There is no meaning beyond what my teacher was to me.
The past is not so easily forgotten.
But Destiny cares nothing for memory or reason. Which is the only explanation for the godforsaken company that I keep nowadays, and why I haven't killed anyone yet.
Which is the reason why Redemption very nearly did.
**********
I can tell that he's not having much luck, and it's not that the map's complicated. Sighing resignedly, Cho turns slightly to look over his shoulder. "Gojyo-san, it's a little difficult for me to concentrate."
"Oh, heh, sorry 'bout that, we'll keep it down."
"…should you really be tossing him around like that?" There is mild disapproval in his tone, which the half-breed waves off with a grin. "No worries sensei, the kid's tough." And round, golden eyes blink in agreement over his shoulder from where the monkey is hanging around his neck.
Cho sighs again. "Nevertheless…" and I let out a small breath of my own in exasperation. He is easily distracted by the boy, and between him and the half-breed, the kid's going to be spoilt rotten.
"The map?" I know that my pointed sarcasm is not lost on him, but the apology in his expression is tinged with the amused tolerance that only an experienced schoolteacher can pull off.
It's poor vindication, but I ground my unfinished cigarette viciously into the earth anyway, never mind the waste. I can't afford to shoot anyone yet. It's fast becoming a very bad habit; I'm running out of tobacco and patience, more so the latter. Those stupid golden eyes beg to be fed every damn hour, the half-breed moron thinks he's won an all-expense paid, obligation-free vacation and the schoolteacher is prone to giving me disgustingly sympathetic glances.
There's a reason why we're stuck in between here and there, and it isn't my fault.
"The map?" I say a little more sharply, and Cho acquiesces, spreading the chart out over the hood of the jeep/dragon/whatever it is. I'm not unfamiliar with the terrain, but the isolated walking trails I am accustomed to will not serve a bulky vehicle. "As best as I can tell, we're here at the moment." He points at some position along one of the marked routes, and it's as vague and unremarkable as the rest of the bloody landscape around it. More frustrating is that we have no clear destination to speak of; we've been on this same damn road for the past week only because it's one of the better drawn courses that journeys West.
"Gojyo-san, could you bring Yo-kun over please?" The half-breed's lip quirks slightly in amusement, and I roll my own eyes. Prophecy. Yogen, though he answers just as well to 'monkey'. And lately he's been acting more like the latter than the former. It's a futile exercise, and we all know it, but I don't want to have to listen to Cho's inane excuse yet again that it can't hurt to try. So I indulge him his little bout of optimism and turn away to light another cigarette (I'm down to a quarter of a pack, damn it) as the half-breed saunters up to dump the boy on the hood of the jeep and pats him on the head. "Alright chibi saru, you know the drill. Give sensei here something that he can work with."
And it's the same as all the other times. Cho's quiet coaxing has no effect as he stares blankly at the chart before lifting his head to the sun. I doubt he can properly read maps, but always, unerringly, he knows the direction. And his gold is somehow always darker, and I wonder what his thoughts are, when he turns to look at us solemnly.
"West," he says simply, pointing ahead, and silently I echo him. "Go West for change." My least favourite phrase; I've given up long before on the notion of wrangling more out of him. Damn those stupid eyes.
Moodily I run over the map again as Prophecy's face lightens when the jeep chirps at him and he coos back. The half-breed stretches in exaggerated motion. "Maa, well, it doesn't matter. We just keep going West, and we'll find it; what's the rush?"
The sooner we get there, the sooner I can be rid of you. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the half-breed give me a dirty look. Did I say that out loud?
Huh.
"Nevertheless…" The schoolteacher doesn't like it anymore than I do. Blundering in with the half-breed's foolhardy disregard is the surest way of getting killed. And the only venture left to us, with Prophecy unable – or unwilling – to offer us anything else. I hear their mild debate only vaguely as I consider the chart. It makes no difference if we continue along this road; that would warrant roughly another three days or so of travelling, and then…
I almost miss it, the smudge of letters and the actual blotch that is the town itself. I run some numbers in my head, and the taste in my mouth is suddenly more acrid than tobacco.
The boy shifts on the hood in a graceless, impulsive movement that draws the attention of the half-breed and schoolteacher as he latches on to one of my sleeves, and I am forced to relax tense shoulders. He blinks at me, and I am careful to not reveal my uneasiness to the other two.
To say that Prophecy is strange is redundant. He is young in all but essence, old in all but the most mundane of things. His is a child's trust in adults, a child's delight in a game of catch.
A child's awkward attempts to reassure.
Prophecy is strange because he sees what I hide. It irritates me enough that I pull from his grip in an unnecessarily sharp movement as I point to the marked town. "This is our next stop." I draw the nicotine in deep, my amusement faint and detached when after the first glance, green eyes widen slightly with realisation before narrowing in wary suspicion. "Why?" The half-breed starts at the tight, flat tone; Cho Gonou is nothing so simple as an unassuming, mild-mannered schoolteacher, and the idiot would do well to remember that. "There is nothing for us there."
The smoke is a curling grey that, for one very brief moment, obscures the sun's glare. And for the second time I drop my cigarette, unfinished; I have had enough of the taste. "There is."
Duty. Obligation. A fealty that Destiny cannot make me let go of.
I regard them coolly, my tone bland. "I'm running out of cigarettes."
~~~~
"Why do you still do it?" I have been expecting it, but a slight sense of familiarity still persists as I recall another evening and another conversation.
This will be different however, in more ways than one. Cho does not smoke, and I wonder caustically if it is a long standing abstinence or another atonement.
It is also useless to assume that I can remain silent and that he will do the same. He does not share the half-breed's candid acceptance of Prophecy and his directions. Cho Gonou cannot believe in destiny; he has experienced too many endings to believe in beginnings.
"Why do you come with us?" His lips tighten, displeased that I chose to evade his question. But it is my answer, if he can comprehend it.
"I don't want this." He doesn't look at me, is staring at and beyond his hands, and I have a faint inkling of what he sees in them. "Redemption." He laughs, peculiar, short bursts of bitter sound.
"It's what you chose to become, before the boy Named you." He raises his head so that I see his eyes, wild green, angry and cold, and it is my first raw understanding of Cho Gonou the killer.
"I cannot be redeemed. I will not be redeemed." And one hand instinctively reaches up to hover by his earpieces, before he brings it back down jerkily in a tight fist.
Cho Gonou has left too many endings in his wake, and this is his penance. He will atone for his sins for as long as he lives, for there is no ending for him. He will not find his final redemption because he chooses it to be so.
"You do not believe in destiny." It is not a question; I do not deny, but neither do I confirm. "How can you still do what you do if otherwise? Why are you on this journey?" And he has thrown the question back in my face. I feel the onset of a headache. It is pathetic, the way he sees in black and white.
"I visit the killing grounds because I have no choice." Let him disbelieve if he wants to; no one needs to know of my teacher. "I go West because I have no choice." Because Prophecy will not let go of me now. His brow furrows with startled annoyance, but I am not revealing any more.
The light has faded; the half-breed and the boy will come soon begging for dinner. "Prophecy has Named you Redemption." And I speak with the clarity and authority accorded my status. "Prophecy has charged you to go West to meet your Destiny. And you will do so." I turn away as he slumps against the wall of the inn. He will have much to think about tonight.
I do not tell him that when I face my Destiny, I shall make it my own.
~~~~
Damn idiot didn't think enough. What of the rationality and reason to consider all possibilities? I expected better of a schoolteacher.
Only Cho Gonou is not a schoolteacher now, but the convicted murderer that I was supposed to surrender to my superiors upon capture.
I don't need it to be rubbed into my face. It's already a bitch trying to bind my arm using just one hand and trying to keep my grip on my revolver at the same time. Like hell I'm going to put it down anytime soon.
"Oy, you alright?" Red eyes flicker cagily, but it's fucking useless trying to pick out true dark amidst the upturned crates and wooden beams from the dark that is Cho. The half-breed doesn't have enough of the youkai blood to see; if the boy had not shoved me out of the way hard or fast enough, I'd be nursing more than just a long, nasty gash in my arm.
Right now, said boy is pressed in a small huddle against my back, so close I can feel the tremors. He does well enough in a simple brawl, but against Cho…
And he isn't the only thing I have to worry about.
Destiny has a fucking lousy sense of timing. As does the half-breed, who growls heatedly, "Isn't he going to do anything?!"
"No," I hiss out curtly. Go away. Go fucking away. I wonder if it's too much to hope that Cho gets him as well.
"I told you." Stupid singsong lilt. Stupid smug bastard. He swings his legs in a rustle of robes and a clinking of beads, grinning down from the rafters with an eerie, childish glee.
"I told you, Koryuu. Cho Gonou's going to kill you."
-TBC-
So, where do we go from here? Hang around and find out.