y'know, one thing i have never been able to figure out is, what exactly are
youkai? i mean, they seem like humans, except with pointy ears and maybe
more muscles, for the most part. and yet there was that scary spider bitch
back in book 1, and obviously there was some kind of freak called Hyakugan
MaOu wandering around, and if that name is literal then he can't have
looked ANYthing remotely human, regardless of whether he raped girls or
not. so yes. i have gone and invented my very own kind of youkai. and in
an odd, very twisted way, they sort of come from the original journey to
the west, where Wu Kong (Gokuu) was the Monkey King...
............................................
Still a few steps away from awareness, he could feel his head throbbing with pain. It felt worse than the morning after the first time he'd been allowed to drink beer. He still thought it was cruel of Sanzo not to have warned him, but as Sanzo had reminded him, it had taught him never to drink so much so fast again. His arms hurt too, and he tried to pull them in, hoping that the movement and the pain would not be enough to shift him out of sleep altogether.
And he couldn't move his arms, and he was cold.
He opened his eyes. He couldn't move his arms because they were tied securely with rope that felt about as thick as his wrists to a branch above his head, and he was cold because they taken off his shirt and he was still half-wet. Awareness of his situation came speeding back and he kicked all of a sudden, began to struggle.
He was hanging by his wrists from what looked like a sapling trunk. They had propped both ends of the limb in the crooks of two trees, and he dangled between them like some strange, enormous fruit, a good meter off the ground. He couldn't gain any purchase, wound up bouncing up and down in the air. The stress tore his wound a little wider open, and he winced.
A figure stepped out in front of him, and he forced himself to stay still, though he was shaking with pain and rage. It was hard to see exactly what it looked like with its back to the moonlight, but he thought he make out a pinched little face that seemed to be smiling, surrounded by a beard of black and white hair. It walked a little stooped, so that the arms seemed to hang almost to the knees. In one hand was a long thin branch. When the figure came closer, though not close enough to kick, he saw that the eyes were round and very black, and the teeth were surprisingly sharp in their vicious grin.
He worked his wrists frantically, trying to loosen the bonds, but he might have saved his breath for all the difference it made. The figure stopped, six feet away, and looked up at him. If it came just few feet closer, he thought, he'd be able to smash his feet right under the chin. But it moved around him in a circle just slightly too wide, speaking in a high-pitched mischievous tone. It seemed almost playful.
"Hello, hello." He wished that they would just threaten him with death in the beginning. He was reminded, uncomfortably, of Kami-sama and his insane smile. He strained one wrist away from the other, pulling so hard against the rope that it felt like if he fell he'd surely leave his hands behind.
"No," the youkai said, dodging behind him again, "I don't think you'll be able to wriggle yourself free. But just in case you think to try..." Goku struggled to turn his head to see what was happening, then felt the prod of something sharp and hard in his back. "We don't have any guns, oh no. But I think this would hurt too, don't you?" The figure tipped its head up at him and bared its teeth in a wide stretch.
He did think it would hurt. Angry as he was, he didn't want another hole in him just yet. He settled for taunting them instead. "Good for you, you've caught me," he jeered. "Too cowardly to try and fight me, huh?"
"Well," and the figure skipped to his right, "Nobody ever said that monkeys were brave." He jerked a little at the word "monkey" and felt the spear prod his backside. "And we are of the Monkey Tribe," the youkai continued. It spat at his feet, and said, "This whole land used to be ours, covered in trees, forest deep as the creek runs long." The playful tone was gone, replaced by a harsher angry chatter. "But humans--" he spat the word out like a lump of rancid meat, "cut down the trees, and push us back, every year."
An angry chattering came from all around him. "We were just going to kill the monk, and take his sutras," and at this he started struggling and didn't stop until the spear had drawn blood. He could feel it dripping down his leg as he hung there, glaring helplessly. Hot tears were coming to his eyes. He was glad it was too dark for them to see.
The monkey youkai grinned, and went on, slipping back into his sing-song, "And in return he said we'd get an army, to help us wipe out the humans for good."
The words echoed excitedly between the trees. "An army, for good..."
"But maybe we'll still get something if we give him you," and now, underneath the anger, the pain of the spear wound in his back and the ache of his arms and the burn in his gut, he felt the cold grip of fear. He wished, fleetingly, that his friends were nearby and could help, but just as quickly decided that he would rather get out of it on his own.
The leader raised a long arm, and the chattering died down. "But you're like us," he said, less playfully, his voice almost a question. "We can smell it on you. You are no nasty parasite. You are a child of the earth."
"I'm not a child," he snarled, although he felt like one just then, small and helpless and scared. The youkai seemed not to hear him.
"We could teach you not to be so stupid. You could join us, you could," and the trees chorused, "You could, you could."
"With you we would be stronger. We could attack the humans anyway. You would only have to kill one of them, to prove--"
There was no thought involved. "NO!" he yelled, almost tearing his throat with the effort he put into it.
There was a moment of silence and then the chattering came back, louder and angrier than before, and this time it came from all sides. "Kill it, kill it, kill it!"
"You chose wrong," said the leader, and his voice was now higher-pitched, screeching, no longer very human at all. "So now you die." Faster than he would have believed, the long skinny arm whipped around and the branch hit his side, raked across his ribs and the bullet wound. It hurt so much that for a minute he could not breathe, even to scream. He struggled and twisted, no longer caring about the spear, hardly capable of feeling it. The branch came around again, and again, and on the last time he did scream. The sound was thin and pathetic in his ears and he knew he didn't want to hear it again.
I'm not going to die here, he thought, although the pain nearly stopped him from thinking anything. If I die then who will protect Sanzo?
"Too bad we don't have the gun," said the leader, and he tried to focus on the movements so he could try to twist away from the next blow. "We could have killed you with the same weapon that killed us. But maybe we'll use yours instead." He rapped out another command, and caught at something as it was thrown to him from the circle in the trees. As the youkai approached he could see that it was Nyoibu. A wild hope flashed into his mind, and he struggled again to concentrate, so he could pick out the moment, if it came.
He wasn't going to die here. He hadn't survived Kami-sama and the desert and stupid Chin-Issou to get killed by stupid monkeys! His blood surged and his pulse pounded in his ears. He was NOT going to die here, Sanzo NEEDED him and now his eyes were wide open and glaring.
The youkai was quick, slipping close to land a blow, and then dodging back out again. He screamed again as Nyoibu came whipping across his shins, feeling the bone crunch. Just one step closer, from the front, he thought, and did his best to rock away as the staff thrust into his side, then cracked across his back. Dimly he registered that the others were throwing things at him, sticks and rocks. Something cut him over one eye and he blinked desperately, trying to clear away the blood. The pain was starting to blend together, crawling all over his body. In a few more blows he would not even feel them separately.
He choked back the screams as he could and watched until the leader came in once more, finally from the front, pointing Nyoibu at him. He waited for one more step. It came, and jerking his body forward with every ounce of strength he could summon, he stretched out one foot and caught his attacker in the throat with one toe. At the same time he yelled, "NYOIBU!" and willed the staff to become long.
It shot out at both ends, one of whom caught the youkai holding it squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The other sailed towards him, and he just managed to kick it high enough so that it flew over his head. The expanding staff caught the branch holding him with a crack, and suddenly one end of the limb was swinging down. He twisted to his side as he fell, caught the spear-wielder across the side of the face with one knee. The forest was full of outraged surprised and he knew he only had seconds before the rest closed in.
He was tugging at his bonds even before his feet touched the ground. He nearly collapsed when they did; one leg did not want to support him. But he put one foot against the branch and pulled. The rope slipped off and suddenly he was free, hands still bound, but free. He felt the spear stab him in the shoulder, stumbled, scrabbled for Nyoibu with his bound hands, willing it to shrink. His fingers scrabbled across leaf and loam and then closed around the smooth weapon. He spun around, clenching it in his awkward grip, and began to fight for his life.
.................................................
They had started running when they first heard the chattering, and had gotten close enough to hear the last of the screams. They slipped and sprinted along the bank, and his boots had never seemed so heavy and slow.
As they drew nearer there was no more screaming, only chattering and shrieks and the sounds of chaos. He had the impression that there were shadows bursting past them in the trees, fleeing away from the conflict, when suddenly it grew quiet again. He put his head down and ran harder. They came into the clearing almost together, and his glance flew over the bodies sprawled haphazardly on the ground to the half-naked, blood-covered, and above all, familiar figure leaning on its staff. Even as Hakkai called out his name, Goku was pitching forward.
In that moment fear rose up and swallowed him, and he could hardly move his feet until Hakkai was kneeling by the boy, his hands already beginning to glow.
"Goku," he was murmuring, turning the boy gently over, "Goku, we're here."
His stomach was a raw mess where the youkai had ripped the bandages away. Blood covered so much of his torso that it was hard to see what wounds were there. It spilled over one side of the face, dark and sticky. He saw with a start that the hands were tied at the wrist. Fury built in him as he reached down to slice the ropes away, but he dared not interfere with the healing. Nobody died of bound hands, he knew, at least not directly, but his own hands trembled a litte. He looked around the clearing, silently wished for something to kill.
"Hakkai," and the voice was so soft, Goku was never that quiet, it scared the shit out of him, "Hakkai, I'm sorry."
"Shh, there's nothing to be sorry for, just lie still and relax." Beads of sweat were beginning to form on the healer's forehead and his forehead was wrinkled with fierce concentration.
"Tell Sanzo--" he gasped as Hakkai placed one hand under him, "--tell Sanzo not to be mad--" With his other hand Hakkai gripped and pulled a short crossbow bolt out of the boy's shoulder. He saw Goku seize up, then slump back as his body took the age-old escape route from pain. Hakkai didn't even bat an eye, only went on pouring energy into the silent form. Already his hands were gory as he reconnected the major arteries, tying off leaking ki, trying to collect the energy that was now scattered and wasted and organize it back into the matrix of life.
Ten minutes of silence went by, ten long minutes where he had ample time to reflect upon the complexities of the human body, and how easy it was to make any of them go wrong. How he'd seen men die from a punch in the nose, the kidneys, lose legs to a blow that didn't heal well. And all the while the energies ran out of Hakkai's hands and danced over the bloody body, and slowly they seemed to settle into little networks and began to flow, except over the stomach where one wound refused to close. The light faded, and a faint mist arose from the skin, like breath on a cold day.
Hakkai dropped his arms, swayed. In the moonlight he couldn't tell, but he knew by experience that Hakkai's face was as white as kaolin clay. He hurried to put his shoulder behind the man, steadied him with one arm before he could fall. "Idiot. What's the point of trading lives? You always over do it."
"I promised," said Hakkai as he let himself sag and gasped for air, as if he had only just realized the inadequacy of his own resources. His eyes stared past the river, through the woods, into a room where someone pretended to sleep as he waited.
"He's not--is he--" It was hard not to beg for guarantees, even though he knew the man could not afford to give them.
"No," Hakkai said, his voice exhausted but sharp with relief. He laid Goku down carefully, and slowly got to his feet. "But help me make a stretcher. We have to get him back to Jeep and the inn as quickly as possible, he's going to slip into shock."
They formed a rude frame to carry him, with branches and clothing torn from fallen enemies and their own bodies. Lifting him onto the strips of cloth and covering him with their shirts, they set off as quickly as they could, him leading, Hakkai staggering silently in the back.
........................................
The monk was waiting for them when they got back, standing in a corner of the deserted yard. He didn't say a word, hardly looked at them as they climbed out wearily. He didn't even offer to help carry Goku, only turned around and went back inside. In their room there was a kettle of water boiling over the fire, another kettle that had cooled, and clean cloth laid out, cut into strips.
Sanzo went into his room and shut the door.
"Well how do you like that," he gasped, "We go and bust our butts trying to save his ape and he doesn't even say so much as a thank-you."
"Gojyo, please, I need your help over here." Goku's skin felt like a frog's, cold and clammy, and his lips were blue at the edges. He was breathing shallowly, too shallowly for sleep. Soaking a cloth in the boiling water, then dipping it into the cool and wringing it out, they wiped him down gently and dried him off. The heat from the cloth seemed to steam a little more color into his face.
Without the streaks of blood and in stronger light, he could take better stock of the injuries: bruises and cuts and an ugly spear wound through the back, a badly fractured lower leg, the place where the bolt had punched through his shoulder, which seemed to be still bleeding under the skin. Hakkai meticulously stitched and dabbed and bandaged, while he avoided looking at the wrists, which had been chafed raw and bled stickily where the ropes had been.
They covered him in two layers of blankets and lay him close to the fire, sitting down against the bed to keep unspoken vigil. "Heh, the one night he's not likely to kick and we can't put him in bed," he said roughly. It didn't feel the same, when there was no one to take the bait. "He's been through worse," he said aloud, then turned to Hakkai for confirmation. "Hasn't he?"
Hakkai had his eyes half-closed, and his head had fallen back against the foot of the bed.
"Aw, hell," and he sprang to his feet, "Why didn't ya say something?" He didn't wait for a response, dashing down to the kitchen to grab a bowl of whatever it was that stood in the simmering cauldron, waiting for late night guests. He returned and shoved it into Hakkai's limp fingers. The man took it gratefully, with that measure of perpetual humility that made him want to scream.
"He should be alright," Hakkai said between slow spoonfuls of the rice porridge. "But it's hard to say. He was badly hurt to start with, and to be injured again, so quickly..." He sounded frustrated. "I can hold things together, but I can't make them work. He needs rest so his system can restore things on its own."
"Well, at least we won't have him running around going nuts over the monk." He felt the warmth of the fire beginning to sink into his bones as the adrenaline slowly unwound, leaving him drained and drowsy.
"That's a knife that cuts both ways," his companion said, with a hint of his usual smile. Then he stared into the flames with worried eyes. "Sanzo...I wonder how he will handle this..."
"What, Bouzu? He's probably sleeping like a baby, saving energy so he can whack the monkey when he wakes." He yawned as he said the words, knowing that they were only half the truth, but not particularly caring.
"To tell you the truth, I don't really understand him."
"Who does?" He snorted. "Not his ser-vants," he drawled out the word, "We just follow orders."
"A holy man who doesn't believe in the gods," his friend mused.
"Yeah, makes for a lousy monk, doesn't he?" he agreed. "Though it's hard not to believe in the gods when they show up on your doorstep." He thought back to that moment in the rain, with Rikudou slapping them off and Sanzo lying there bleeding while Goku...Goku became the other thing that he was, when he wasn't Goku. "They don't do her tits justice, yanno, in the statues and all."
"I suppose it's because he walks too close to them, that he does not believe in such things," said Hakkai.
"Come again?" His brain was too tired for philosophy. He turned and rummaged through his pack, digging out a cigarette.
Hakkai had begun to repeat automatically, "You've already had your ten--"
"Heh, heh, but it's tomorrow already, right?" He lit up, and the smoke filled his lungs, the way a lover filled his arms, as he listened.
"When you see the gods for what they are, they cease to be gods," Hakkai went on. His eyes were closed now. "Gods are something you turn to in prayer."
A wisp of memory swirled through his ears. You could always pray for our safety, he'd said. He wondered if Sanzo had, and then wondered if maybe that was Hakkai's point.
"You don't sound like you're too keen on them yourself," he observed. Hakkai opened his eyes, and stared at him, and for a moment the gaze reminded him of someone he'd known, but that was ridiculous, because who could it remind him of but Hakkai? He didn't go around paying attention to everyone's eyes. Then the familiar smile wiped that faint trace of recognition away, and Hakkai was saying, "Haha, how arrogant of me. You must know something well, before you can despise it."
"Who knows," he said sleepily, "Maybe you know them better than you think." He felt Hakkai reach over and take the cigarette from his lips. He wanted to protest, but fell into sleep.
....................................................
tbc
OK, this isn't where I wanted to stop it--but this chapter's long already, so I suppose it'll have to do. ^^;; Yes, I know I assumed that Goku can control Nyoibu even when not directly touching it... *eheh* You know, those magic weapons, very special lah... Sorry if I'm beating you over the head with the GojyoxHakkai...I'm such a stubborn moron when it comes to pairings, I will cheer 3x9 and 5x8 (my, aren't we fans creative--I thought GWing was cutting edge when it came to numbers) on until the END OF TIME!!!!
Now comes a very important question (thanks, btw, for giving me your opinions on the Goku-OOC business, guys. =) It really helped, all of it.)
Do you want this fic to be short, or long?
Short, and it winds up in maybe a chapter or two. The ending won't be really conclusive, but everything that should be there will be implied.
Long, and you're in for a whole 'nuther chunk o' Plot and Bad Action Scenes by yours truly. On the other hand it will be mushier and a lot more WAFF will appear at the end.
I am a democratic person and will go by vote =) It's just that I sense a potential wrap-up point, and if you don't feel the need to make this fic any longer, then I won't. Further than this and I'll be venturing into somewhat unknown waters.
And finally, the thanks =)
K. Firefly, I am looking forward to reading "A Thousand Deaths" ^^ AU is not normally my thing, but I'll read anything interesting, and your writing is certainly very readable. I'm glad you like Goku and I'm sorry for beating "the foodles" out of him XD
Merci to incandescens for reviewing both chapters, and also being a proud member of the "Goku is Not an Idiot Club" *grin* I mean, after what he does in book 9 of the manga, I just can't ever look at him as a total numbskull ever again. a part-time numbskull, that's what he is.
Quantum, as usual, thanks for the detailed feedback =) You always leave your opinion, and like Hakkai, explain it ^^ so helpful!
Same goes to Krimson (don't stay too late after work! go home and get rest!)
And Ultra =) congrats on finishing "A Time for Us," btw. I am now fascinated by the idea of long-fingered Gojyo playing the piano, a secret sensualist...
gallatica, hope you're finding it easier to keep track of what's going on. i didn't descibe much Sanzo in this chapter, but more will be forthcoming. you can imagine it for yourself...a dark room...dark thoughts...no beer and no gun but lots of ghosts for company...heh =)
yoong and Metallic-Monkey, thanks for your interest too! ^^ Sorry if Goku seemed a little weak, but he beat them all up in the end anyhow, WAHAHAHA!!
and X-parrot, KYAA!!!! fix your comp and update!!!! get those poor boys in out of the cold! and don't forget to tell us when you do! =) until then, thanks so much for the endorsement. it means a lot when writers you admire approve of your work.
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Still a few steps away from awareness, he could feel his head throbbing with pain. It felt worse than the morning after the first time he'd been allowed to drink beer. He still thought it was cruel of Sanzo not to have warned him, but as Sanzo had reminded him, it had taught him never to drink so much so fast again. His arms hurt too, and he tried to pull them in, hoping that the movement and the pain would not be enough to shift him out of sleep altogether.
And he couldn't move his arms, and he was cold.
He opened his eyes. He couldn't move his arms because they were tied securely with rope that felt about as thick as his wrists to a branch above his head, and he was cold because they taken off his shirt and he was still half-wet. Awareness of his situation came speeding back and he kicked all of a sudden, began to struggle.
He was hanging by his wrists from what looked like a sapling trunk. They had propped both ends of the limb in the crooks of two trees, and he dangled between them like some strange, enormous fruit, a good meter off the ground. He couldn't gain any purchase, wound up bouncing up and down in the air. The stress tore his wound a little wider open, and he winced.
A figure stepped out in front of him, and he forced himself to stay still, though he was shaking with pain and rage. It was hard to see exactly what it looked like with its back to the moonlight, but he thought he make out a pinched little face that seemed to be smiling, surrounded by a beard of black and white hair. It walked a little stooped, so that the arms seemed to hang almost to the knees. In one hand was a long thin branch. When the figure came closer, though not close enough to kick, he saw that the eyes were round and very black, and the teeth were surprisingly sharp in their vicious grin.
He worked his wrists frantically, trying to loosen the bonds, but he might have saved his breath for all the difference it made. The figure stopped, six feet away, and looked up at him. If it came just few feet closer, he thought, he'd be able to smash his feet right under the chin. But it moved around him in a circle just slightly too wide, speaking in a high-pitched mischievous tone. It seemed almost playful.
"Hello, hello." He wished that they would just threaten him with death in the beginning. He was reminded, uncomfortably, of Kami-sama and his insane smile. He strained one wrist away from the other, pulling so hard against the rope that it felt like if he fell he'd surely leave his hands behind.
"No," the youkai said, dodging behind him again, "I don't think you'll be able to wriggle yourself free. But just in case you think to try..." Goku struggled to turn his head to see what was happening, then felt the prod of something sharp and hard in his back. "We don't have any guns, oh no. But I think this would hurt too, don't you?" The figure tipped its head up at him and bared its teeth in a wide stretch.
He did think it would hurt. Angry as he was, he didn't want another hole in him just yet. He settled for taunting them instead. "Good for you, you've caught me," he jeered. "Too cowardly to try and fight me, huh?"
"Well," and the figure skipped to his right, "Nobody ever said that monkeys were brave." He jerked a little at the word "monkey" and felt the spear prod his backside. "And we are of the Monkey Tribe," the youkai continued. It spat at his feet, and said, "This whole land used to be ours, covered in trees, forest deep as the creek runs long." The playful tone was gone, replaced by a harsher angry chatter. "But humans--" he spat the word out like a lump of rancid meat, "cut down the trees, and push us back, every year."
An angry chattering came from all around him. "We were just going to kill the monk, and take his sutras," and at this he started struggling and didn't stop until the spear had drawn blood. He could feel it dripping down his leg as he hung there, glaring helplessly. Hot tears were coming to his eyes. He was glad it was too dark for them to see.
The monkey youkai grinned, and went on, slipping back into his sing-song, "And in return he said we'd get an army, to help us wipe out the humans for good."
The words echoed excitedly between the trees. "An army, for good..."
"But maybe we'll still get something if we give him you," and now, underneath the anger, the pain of the spear wound in his back and the ache of his arms and the burn in his gut, he felt the cold grip of fear. He wished, fleetingly, that his friends were nearby and could help, but just as quickly decided that he would rather get out of it on his own.
The leader raised a long arm, and the chattering died down. "But you're like us," he said, less playfully, his voice almost a question. "We can smell it on you. You are no nasty parasite. You are a child of the earth."
"I'm not a child," he snarled, although he felt like one just then, small and helpless and scared. The youkai seemed not to hear him.
"We could teach you not to be so stupid. You could join us, you could," and the trees chorused, "You could, you could."
"With you we would be stronger. We could attack the humans anyway. You would only have to kill one of them, to prove--"
There was no thought involved. "NO!" he yelled, almost tearing his throat with the effort he put into it.
There was a moment of silence and then the chattering came back, louder and angrier than before, and this time it came from all sides. "Kill it, kill it, kill it!"
"You chose wrong," said the leader, and his voice was now higher-pitched, screeching, no longer very human at all. "So now you die." Faster than he would have believed, the long skinny arm whipped around and the branch hit his side, raked across his ribs and the bullet wound. It hurt so much that for a minute he could not breathe, even to scream. He struggled and twisted, no longer caring about the spear, hardly capable of feeling it. The branch came around again, and again, and on the last time he did scream. The sound was thin and pathetic in his ears and he knew he didn't want to hear it again.
I'm not going to die here, he thought, although the pain nearly stopped him from thinking anything. If I die then who will protect Sanzo?
"Too bad we don't have the gun," said the leader, and he tried to focus on the movements so he could try to twist away from the next blow. "We could have killed you with the same weapon that killed us. But maybe we'll use yours instead." He rapped out another command, and caught at something as it was thrown to him from the circle in the trees. As the youkai approached he could see that it was Nyoibu. A wild hope flashed into his mind, and he struggled again to concentrate, so he could pick out the moment, if it came.
He wasn't going to die here. He hadn't survived Kami-sama and the desert and stupid Chin-Issou to get killed by stupid monkeys! His blood surged and his pulse pounded in his ears. He was NOT going to die here, Sanzo NEEDED him and now his eyes were wide open and glaring.
The youkai was quick, slipping close to land a blow, and then dodging back out again. He screamed again as Nyoibu came whipping across his shins, feeling the bone crunch. Just one step closer, from the front, he thought, and did his best to rock away as the staff thrust into his side, then cracked across his back. Dimly he registered that the others were throwing things at him, sticks and rocks. Something cut him over one eye and he blinked desperately, trying to clear away the blood. The pain was starting to blend together, crawling all over his body. In a few more blows he would not even feel them separately.
He choked back the screams as he could and watched until the leader came in once more, finally from the front, pointing Nyoibu at him. He waited for one more step. It came, and jerking his body forward with every ounce of strength he could summon, he stretched out one foot and caught his attacker in the throat with one toe. At the same time he yelled, "NYOIBU!" and willed the staff to become long.
It shot out at both ends, one of whom caught the youkai holding it squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The other sailed towards him, and he just managed to kick it high enough so that it flew over his head. The expanding staff caught the branch holding him with a crack, and suddenly one end of the limb was swinging down. He twisted to his side as he fell, caught the spear-wielder across the side of the face with one knee. The forest was full of outraged surprised and he knew he only had seconds before the rest closed in.
He was tugging at his bonds even before his feet touched the ground. He nearly collapsed when they did; one leg did not want to support him. But he put one foot against the branch and pulled. The rope slipped off and suddenly he was free, hands still bound, but free. He felt the spear stab him in the shoulder, stumbled, scrabbled for Nyoibu with his bound hands, willing it to shrink. His fingers scrabbled across leaf and loam and then closed around the smooth weapon. He spun around, clenching it in his awkward grip, and began to fight for his life.
.................................................
They had started running when they first heard the chattering, and had gotten close enough to hear the last of the screams. They slipped and sprinted along the bank, and his boots had never seemed so heavy and slow.
As they drew nearer there was no more screaming, only chattering and shrieks and the sounds of chaos. He had the impression that there were shadows bursting past them in the trees, fleeing away from the conflict, when suddenly it grew quiet again. He put his head down and ran harder. They came into the clearing almost together, and his glance flew over the bodies sprawled haphazardly on the ground to the half-naked, blood-covered, and above all, familiar figure leaning on its staff. Even as Hakkai called out his name, Goku was pitching forward.
In that moment fear rose up and swallowed him, and he could hardly move his feet until Hakkai was kneeling by the boy, his hands already beginning to glow.
"Goku," he was murmuring, turning the boy gently over, "Goku, we're here."
His stomach was a raw mess where the youkai had ripped the bandages away. Blood covered so much of his torso that it was hard to see what wounds were there. It spilled over one side of the face, dark and sticky. He saw with a start that the hands were tied at the wrist. Fury built in him as he reached down to slice the ropes away, but he dared not interfere with the healing. Nobody died of bound hands, he knew, at least not directly, but his own hands trembled a litte. He looked around the clearing, silently wished for something to kill.
"Hakkai," and the voice was so soft, Goku was never that quiet, it scared the shit out of him, "Hakkai, I'm sorry."
"Shh, there's nothing to be sorry for, just lie still and relax." Beads of sweat were beginning to form on the healer's forehead and his forehead was wrinkled with fierce concentration.
"Tell Sanzo--" he gasped as Hakkai placed one hand under him, "--tell Sanzo not to be mad--" With his other hand Hakkai gripped and pulled a short crossbow bolt out of the boy's shoulder. He saw Goku seize up, then slump back as his body took the age-old escape route from pain. Hakkai didn't even bat an eye, only went on pouring energy into the silent form. Already his hands were gory as he reconnected the major arteries, tying off leaking ki, trying to collect the energy that was now scattered and wasted and organize it back into the matrix of life.
Ten minutes of silence went by, ten long minutes where he had ample time to reflect upon the complexities of the human body, and how easy it was to make any of them go wrong. How he'd seen men die from a punch in the nose, the kidneys, lose legs to a blow that didn't heal well. And all the while the energies ran out of Hakkai's hands and danced over the bloody body, and slowly they seemed to settle into little networks and began to flow, except over the stomach where one wound refused to close. The light faded, and a faint mist arose from the skin, like breath on a cold day.
Hakkai dropped his arms, swayed. In the moonlight he couldn't tell, but he knew by experience that Hakkai's face was as white as kaolin clay. He hurried to put his shoulder behind the man, steadied him with one arm before he could fall. "Idiot. What's the point of trading lives? You always over do it."
"I promised," said Hakkai as he let himself sag and gasped for air, as if he had only just realized the inadequacy of his own resources. His eyes stared past the river, through the woods, into a room where someone pretended to sleep as he waited.
"He's not--is he--" It was hard not to beg for guarantees, even though he knew the man could not afford to give them.
"No," Hakkai said, his voice exhausted but sharp with relief. He laid Goku down carefully, and slowly got to his feet. "But help me make a stretcher. We have to get him back to Jeep and the inn as quickly as possible, he's going to slip into shock."
They formed a rude frame to carry him, with branches and clothing torn from fallen enemies and their own bodies. Lifting him onto the strips of cloth and covering him with their shirts, they set off as quickly as they could, him leading, Hakkai staggering silently in the back.
........................................
The monk was waiting for them when they got back, standing in a corner of the deserted yard. He didn't say a word, hardly looked at them as they climbed out wearily. He didn't even offer to help carry Goku, only turned around and went back inside. In their room there was a kettle of water boiling over the fire, another kettle that had cooled, and clean cloth laid out, cut into strips.
Sanzo went into his room and shut the door.
"Well how do you like that," he gasped, "We go and bust our butts trying to save his ape and he doesn't even say so much as a thank-you."
"Gojyo, please, I need your help over here." Goku's skin felt like a frog's, cold and clammy, and his lips were blue at the edges. He was breathing shallowly, too shallowly for sleep. Soaking a cloth in the boiling water, then dipping it into the cool and wringing it out, they wiped him down gently and dried him off. The heat from the cloth seemed to steam a little more color into his face.
Without the streaks of blood and in stronger light, he could take better stock of the injuries: bruises and cuts and an ugly spear wound through the back, a badly fractured lower leg, the place where the bolt had punched through his shoulder, which seemed to be still bleeding under the skin. Hakkai meticulously stitched and dabbed and bandaged, while he avoided looking at the wrists, which had been chafed raw and bled stickily where the ropes had been.
They covered him in two layers of blankets and lay him close to the fire, sitting down against the bed to keep unspoken vigil. "Heh, the one night he's not likely to kick and we can't put him in bed," he said roughly. It didn't feel the same, when there was no one to take the bait. "He's been through worse," he said aloud, then turned to Hakkai for confirmation. "Hasn't he?"
Hakkai had his eyes half-closed, and his head had fallen back against the foot of the bed.
"Aw, hell," and he sprang to his feet, "Why didn't ya say something?" He didn't wait for a response, dashing down to the kitchen to grab a bowl of whatever it was that stood in the simmering cauldron, waiting for late night guests. He returned and shoved it into Hakkai's limp fingers. The man took it gratefully, with that measure of perpetual humility that made him want to scream.
"He should be alright," Hakkai said between slow spoonfuls of the rice porridge. "But it's hard to say. He was badly hurt to start with, and to be injured again, so quickly..." He sounded frustrated. "I can hold things together, but I can't make them work. He needs rest so his system can restore things on its own."
"Well, at least we won't have him running around going nuts over the monk." He felt the warmth of the fire beginning to sink into his bones as the adrenaline slowly unwound, leaving him drained and drowsy.
"That's a knife that cuts both ways," his companion said, with a hint of his usual smile. Then he stared into the flames with worried eyes. "Sanzo...I wonder how he will handle this..."
"What, Bouzu? He's probably sleeping like a baby, saving energy so he can whack the monkey when he wakes." He yawned as he said the words, knowing that they were only half the truth, but not particularly caring.
"To tell you the truth, I don't really understand him."
"Who does?" He snorted. "Not his ser-vants," he drawled out the word, "We just follow orders."
"A holy man who doesn't believe in the gods," his friend mused.
"Yeah, makes for a lousy monk, doesn't he?" he agreed. "Though it's hard not to believe in the gods when they show up on your doorstep." He thought back to that moment in the rain, with Rikudou slapping them off and Sanzo lying there bleeding while Goku...Goku became the other thing that he was, when he wasn't Goku. "They don't do her tits justice, yanno, in the statues and all."
"I suppose it's because he walks too close to them, that he does not believe in such things," said Hakkai.
"Come again?" His brain was too tired for philosophy. He turned and rummaged through his pack, digging out a cigarette.
Hakkai had begun to repeat automatically, "You've already had your ten--"
"Heh, heh, but it's tomorrow already, right?" He lit up, and the smoke filled his lungs, the way a lover filled his arms, as he listened.
"When you see the gods for what they are, they cease to be gods," Hakkai went on. His eyes were closed now. "Gods are something you turn to in prayer."
A wisp of memory swirled through his ears. You could always pray for our safety, he'd said. He wondered if Sanzo had, and then wondered if maybe that was Hakkai's point.
"You don't sound like you're too keen on them yourself," he observed. Hakkai opened his eyes, and stared at him, and for a moment the gaze reminded him of someone he'd known, but that was ridiculous, because who could it remind him of but Hakkai? He didn't go around paying attention to everyone's eyes. Then the familiar smile wiped that faint trace of recognition away, and Hakkai was saying, "Haha, how arrogant of me. You must know something well, before you can despise it."
"Who knows," he said sleepily, "Maybe you know them better than you think." He felt Hakkai reach over and take the cigarette from his lips. He wanted to protest, but fell into sleep.
....................................................
tbc
OK, this isn't where I wanted to stop it--but this chapter's long already, so I suppose it'll have to do. ^^;; Yes, I know I assumed that Goku can control Nyoibu even when not directly touching it... *eheh* You know, those magic weapons, very special lah... Sorry if I'm beating you over the head with the GojyoxHakkai...I'm such a stubborn moron when it comes to pairings, I will cheer 3x9 and 5x8 (my, aren't we fans creative--I thought GWing was cutting edge when it came to numbers) on until the END OF TIME!!!!
Now comes a very important question (thanks, btw, for giving me your opinions on the Goku-OOC business, guys. =) It really helped, all of it.)
Do you want this fic to be short, or long?
Short, and it winds up in maybe a chapter or two. The ending won't be really conclusive, but everything that should be there will be implied.
Long, and you're in for a whole 'nuther chunk o' Plot and Bad Action Scenes by yours truly. On the other hand it will be mushier and a lot more WAFF will appear at the end.
I am a democratic person and will go by vote =) It's just that I sense a potential wrap-up point, and if you don't feel the need to make this fic any longer, then I won't. Further than this and I'll be venturing into somewhat unknown waters.
And finally, the thanks =)
K. Firefly, I am looking forward to reading "A Thousand Deaths" ^^ AU is not normally my thing, but I'll read anything interesting, and your writing is certainly very readable. I'm glad you like Goku and I'm sorry for beating "the foodles" out of him XD
Merci to incandescens for reviewing both chapters, and also being a proud member of the "Goku is Not an Idiot Club" *grin* I mean, after what he does in book 9 of the manga, I just can't ever look at him as a total numbskull ever again. a part-time numbskull, that's what he is.
Quantum, as usual, thanks for the detailed feedback =) You always leave your opinion, and like Hakkai, explain it ^^ so helpful!
Same goes to Krimson (don't stay too late after work! go home and get rest!)
And Ultra =) congrats on finishing "A Time for Us," btw. I am now fascinated by the idea of long-fingered Gojyo playing the piano, a secret sensualist...
gallatica, hope you're finding it easier to keep track of what's going on. i didn't descibe much Sanzo in this chapter, but more will be forthcoming. you can imagine it for yourself...a dark room...dark thoughts...no beer and no gun but lots of ghosts for company...heh =)
yoong and Metallic-Monkey, thanks for your interest too! ^^ Sorry if Goku seemed a little weak, but he beat them all up in the end anyhow, WAHAHAHA!!
and X-parrot, KYAA!!!! fix your comp and update!!!! get those poor boys in out of the cold! and don't forget to tell us when you do! =) until then, thanks so much for the endorsement. it means a lot when writers you admire approve of your work.