Proud of My Loneliness
~Part: 3~
As he walked on through the clumps of trees, that surrounded the base of the hill and covered most of the distance between it and the town, thoughts of his companions began to fill his mind, building up the doubt he had in his ability to take care of himself.
"I've survived on my own for far longer than any of them put together," he said out loud, shoving branches and waltzing through the clumps of brush that gathered about on his path, "so that makes me lonely by nature…no one was there with me, and no one's going to be with me ever," 'Why?' came the unbidden thought, taking him by surprise, "Why? Why what?" he asked back to the little voice in his head, 'Why can't anyone ever be with you?' it asked, and he felt a sudden rush of jumbled emotions fill within him, the most prominent being an unjustified anger, "You want to know 'why', okay then, I'll tell you 'why', it's because no one can understand what it feels like to be trapped in a goddamn mountain for five-hundred fucking years! That's what separates me from them; they'll never know the isolation that haunts me…" he trailed off, his voice cracking as tears of anger and frustration burned his eyes.
He continued to beat his way through the foliage, unable to find the path they had made earlier, and nor did he care to find it, it was only one more of those cursed reminders of the group he believed to have been his friends, 'What makes you disbelieve now?' the voice asked, and he sighed, not answering the question immediately as he came to rest against the bark of a large tree. He leaned his back against it, then slid down to the soft grass, resting his head against the hard surface of the outer flesh of the tree, "What makes me disbelieve…their behaviour, the way they treat me…" he replied, his tone sad and devoid of its usual light. He let out a long breath, then continued, "They all treat me like I'm some sort of imbecile…they belittle me, calling me an 'ape', or 'monkey', and insulting my intelligence…all of them…even Sanzo…whom I believed to have really cared for me, as a person…but no, he told me the truth of it all…it's apparent that I'm an unwanted burden…even Gojyo," he paused, thinking of how to phrase the strange relationship they shared, "he doesn't bother me much, since I know most of what he says is part of his humour, but still…some of the things he says…it hurts…especially what he said today, calling me a 'dumbass ape' behind my back…" he trailed off, remembering that he had heard this comment, and knew that the half-breed had not thought that the young youkai would have heard.
Silence lingered between him and the voice in his head, the voice that he knew came from somewhere deep within, a separate, more logical sense of his self. When he thought the silence would last and he could be left in peace, the voice spoke again, still in that gentle, companionable tone, '…What about Hakkai?' "Hakkai…?" the name passed his lips, drifting off into the night, 'Yeah, what about the guy? Has he deserved your leaving him?' the voice asked, its tone curious. Goku seemed to drift off then, his eyes losing focus, as he looked back on everything, "Hakkai…" he said again, his eyes beginning to refocus but clouded over again, "Hakkai…no…he was always nice…even when I messed about with his dragon…but still…it's hard to tell when he's joking and when he's not, so…I can't go back…never…" he stated, his voice a monotone. He could feel himself become dejected, separating his weakness of being emotional from his body, becoming the shell he so despised, but had to become.
It was a kind of solace, this feeling of loneliness, isolation, it was what had been with him for those five-hundred years of unbearable torture, god knew how he was able to survive it without going mad, locked up in that mountain-prison, forced to continue looking out through the hole, that provided the only source of light. A humourless smile played on his face, ironic, how he had been rescued by the man whose hair shone like the Sun, triggering a distant memory he could not place the source of, only to be sent back into a similar kind of prison, but more painful. He was free, but still isolated and alone, "And I'm friggin' proud of it…" his voice hinting at a short, proud chuckle that was unable to pass, due to the lack of emotions he had forced himself into.
He sat there for some time, his eyes gazing at nothing in particular, his body feeling nothing, his mind empty of everything, he was a shell now, but a living shell despite the negative presence he now imposed. He did not stir at anything, he no longer felt the urges he had felt for so long, and sought to satisfy while in their company…they, who were they…he couldn't remember, nor did he care, nothing mattered anymore. His eyelids began to feel heavy, as he felt a sense of fatigue come over him, startling him at first then he found it to be logical, for it was still night and he had not slept at all, and so he succumbed without a seconds worth of hesitation.