IV
Regret burned at the back of his throat, a bitter taste. Regret of... what, he wondered. It could not have been of death, for that was something he'd surpassed a long time ago... if he'd ever experienced it at all. Perhaps it was regret at failing, yet again, falling short of his quest of the Seiten sutras. Yet that all-consuming goal was not foremost in his mind at the moment. It was something else, something whispering in the dark, dusty corners of his mind--
--when the dam broke, it was like a tidal wave sweeping over him, battering him relentless and crushing him under its weight. His knees buckled, gave. His eyes shot open, unseeing, caught in a flood of memories he had not touched for years now.
The first one to die had been a human.
He remembered pulling the trigger, at point blank range, not even seeing the bullet exit the barrel. There had just been an explosion of flesh and blood in front of him, the would-be attacker's face still locked in an expression of surprise.
Human. Not even youkai. Some petty robber who'd probably been as desperate as he had been.
"Those--" he ground out, trying to shove away the emotion with logic. But his jaw locked as more memories leapt to the fore.
There had been so many of them. He couldn't even remember if they were youkai or human; all they were were mangled corpses on the ground, leaking blood from bullet wounds. Dead by his hand, a pool of death in an expanding circle with him as a center. Their blood weighed at his robes, splattered across his hands and his face.
This one had a family, a voice whispered in his mind. This one had an ailing mother, this one two children...
"No," he whispered, nausea welling up in his stomach. "No, no."
How many? he wondered desperately, like he'd never wondered before. How many lives to my account? Human? Youkai?
There had been that passerby, he remembered. The one who'd found a bedraggled and blood splattered priest slumped by the side of the road. The one who'd unwittingly touched him on the arm--
--said priest had put a bullet between his eyes before even realizing what he'd done.
This one had a family to go home to...
Now he understood, with the sick feeling of unwanted knowledge. Now he understood the pain behind each death, the ripples that spread with every gunshot, every corpse he left behind. For every life he took he ripped apart countless more. And still more, as grieving relatives came for revenge.
Just soldiers spurred on by their lords...
Just innocents on the road...
He floundered under the crushing sense of pain and guilt, that which had dogged his steps since he'd left Kinzan temple. Somehow he'd learnt to put it aside, but the old mantras... the old excuses... eluded him now.
"Those... those..."
Is there any cause so noble it is worth killing for?
He'd failed utterly, he realized. Become everything that his master would never have wanted him to become. A priest who obeyed no letter of his faith, a man who slaughtered any and all who got in his way...
The gods had sent him to find a murderer, once. But he was no less a murderer than that man.
He looked up, and his teacher was still standing over head, the sword still raised. The blade went up, pulling back for a strike.
If that is the way of things, then so be it. He dropped his gaze, mind still wracked by the grisly memories of previous encounters. So many lives laid--
--A sudden pain flared in his shoulder; stabbed through the numbness in his limbs and shot through his mind like a bullet from his own gun.
He rolled aside as the sword bit into dust, thoughts churning furiously in confusion.
"No," he breathed. "This does not make sense." He glanced around at his surroundings, seeing nothing a muted blood red glow all about. And his teacher, not quite smiling anymore, staring at him.
"Those..." he frowned in concentration, trying desperately to recall. "Those who... kill... must be prepared to die in turn."
There was a sudden quiet in the turmoil in his mind.
Slowly, he forced himself to his feet. "If you are to accuse me of being a murderer, then who are you to claim my life in return?" he asked softly.
There was no reply, just the deathly silence.
Thought was rapidly becoming clearer now. This wasn't real. It couldn't be -- the real world was a desert and a cottage -- and a bloody dagger stuck through his bloody shoulder. The guilt was real enough. The pain was real enough. But this place wasn't, which could only mean one thing.
Someone was messing with his mind.
He looked around again. The blood red glow stretched on forever. It annoyed him. He could smell the blood, the coppery smell of it and the not-quite-there feeling of it splattered all over his hands and robes. He didn't look down to verify that. He knew what to expect, but knew equally that it wasn't real.
I deserve to die.
The thought wormed in through the others, causing the breath to catch sharply in his throat. Even if this is not real, I deserve to perish here. The world would be a better place.
"Shut up," he growled.
The thoughts were his own. That much he was sure of. The confusion and the never ending barrage of questions in his heart were his own. What was I supposed to do? Should I have died that night? Stayed at Kinzan temple?
"It would have made no difference," he said out loud. "Whether I stayed or I left. Kinzan Temple was attacked that night. Someone would have died, which ever way it went, and that is not the answer to this riddle."
Koumyou Sanzo did not reply, and his words disappeared into the silence without an echo.
I have to get out of here, he thought. Again he surveyed the area, and again found nothing. His eyes came back to rest on his teacher.
It would be better if he said something, he thought bitterly. In silence there is everything of condemnation and nothing of acceptance...
His gun was in his hand with merely a thought. It would make this easier.
He raised the Smith and Wesson, aiming directly at Koumyou's forehead.
It's not real, logic told him, but logic was a small voice compared to the doubt in his heart. And what if it was? And so what if it isn't? What does this show me, except that I would murder even my own teacher to accomplish my own ends?
If you meet Buddha on the road, kill him...
"Is that your answer? Genjo Sanzo."
He didn't know. He truly didn't know. "It was the only thing you ever taught me."
I can't, the desperate thought arose. I can't do this. His finger locked on the trigger, unable to find the strength to pull it back. Here in this place that was no place at all, where reality and imagination blended... how was he to tell what was real and what was not?
I killed him, the thought occurred with sudden force. That night, back at Kinzan. I killed him surely as if I had stabbed him with that blade. I killed him in my own weakness, my own failure to protect him...
...I killed him, and that act led me down that blood-drenched road to recover the sutra. One death, leading to another. And another, on a never ending path to nowhere.
His arm shook, as it had not shaken since he was thirteen.
"And will you continue down this road?" Koumyou asked softly. "Digging yourself deeper and deeper into your own grave, until there is no hope of return? Or would you stop, lay down that gun, and turn from this madness while you still have the chance?"
I offer you redemption, his teacher's words said. I offer you a chance to undo mistakes of the past...
It was like a hand thrown to a drowning man, and Sanzo grasped desperately at it. His gun arm shuddered, fell to his side, and he stared at the gun, revolted by the red tinge that marred its silver surface. He was tempted to discard it, fling it from himself into the darkness. Turn from this life and start anew.
He closed his eyes, hefting the gun, pulling back his arm--
--but still, still some part of his mind held him back. Still, something buried in his subconscious forced words to his mouth, words that tumbled from dry lips to voice the thought that he was trying to ignore.
"But what then?"
He paused, raised his head to look around. "What then?" he asked dully. Then, as if the words had been the precursors to an avalanche, the thought blossomed, full-fledged, in his mind.
There is no new road. There is no other path.
"All that is done, is done," he said softly. "There is no undoing the mistakes of the past. There is no choice; the choice was long made."
"And can be remade," Koumyou's voice carried to him over the still air.
"No," he answered, shaking his head even as his heart screamed with regret. "If I must slay countless more to save the world from the madness of the Minus Wave, then I must. I have come too far to stop now; I have killed too many to allow their lives to have passed in vain. I cannot accomplish this quest by peaceful means."
"You can find a way."
He met Koumyou's eyes. "There is no way. We do not live in an ideal world. I cannot leave enemies alive at my back, any more than they could stand aside and allow me to stop this resurrection." He smiled bitterly. "I cannot be one of those monks hidden away in the temple; I cannot pretend that death is not part of who or what I am. It is too late; the choice was made the day you died."
He could feel the stinging pain of the knife wound again. Somewhere, he was slowly bleeding to death. A younger Sanzo might have fled into this world, to hide there until the end. A younger Sanzo might have embraced the fleeting hope so temptingly offered by his teacher. A younger, more idealistic Sanzo might actually have flung the gun away.
But he was no longer seventeen; he was no longer the person who'd embarked on this quest a year back, believing it to be simple enough to accomplish on his own strength. He was not even the person he was yesterday.
And so he drew back the hammer of the Smith and Wesson, and the click of the round chambering echoed all the way into the depths of his soul. I do not claim to understand; it is not given to us to do so. And perhaps you are right, sensei, perhaps I am damning myself to the deepest Hells. Yet ... you died, and left me to understand the best I could. This is not you speaking, no matter how much I wish it were so. And so, given my imperfect knowledge, my imperfect understanding, I can trust only in myself. And I see no other way.
"I am sorry, oshou-sama."
The wind picked up as he fired. But the bullet flew straight and true. It impacted between the eyes, as it always did, for Genjo Sanzo always shot to kill.
He stared at the crumbling form, something twisting and dying in him as the wind howled louder. Sand churned and flew into his eyes, sticking to his face where trails of moisture flowed, unnoticed, from eyes to chin.
Then the world went incredibly bright.
***
Silver met silver. The barrel of the Smith and Wesson collided heavily with the knife as it plunged towards his throat. Sanzo blinked, once, and Mei's collar was in one hand, the Smith and Wesson in his other hand, and pressed against her forehead.
Somewhere, the knife clattered to the floor, presumably flung away by the force of his parry. A child whimpered in the background.
There was surprise in Mei's eyes, and something more. If he concentrated, he could see the burning red glow of that... other place within their black depths. If he concentrated, he could almost hear Koumyou's voice echoing back to him.
"You cast that illusion," he said flatly.
"You are truly a killer, Genjo Sanzo," Mei said softly. "There is no hope for you."
He choked back the emotions that that simple phrase enacted. No answer seemed adequate. He slid his eyes towards one of the children, who stood, crying softly. "The antidote to the poison. Get it."
The child balked. Sanzo narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip noticably on the gun. "Get it."
With a terrified nod, the youkai scurried into the kitchen.
"What depths will you stoop to?" Mei continued calmly. "Threatening children by holding their mother hostage, after killing their father... Will you kill them to? Or will you just kill their mother, and leave them to perish?"
Sanzo's eyes snapped back to meet hers. Knowing black eyes that stared straight into his soul, that whispered doubt into his beliefs and overturned his arguments. Sanzo did not answer.
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the child returned. Sanzo's arms were shaking, and pain drained the blood from his face and cast a mantle of sweat on his forehead. "Give it to me," he directed, and releasing Mei's collar to take bottle. Slowly, he stood, clamping his teeth hard on his lip to stop the cry of pain.
"Go," he said softly. "Leave, all of you. We will depart within the day, and payment will be left for all that we have consumed this day. Keep your distance and I will reimburse you for the inconvenience; hinder me and I will not hesistate to remove you."
Mei stood, and the calm, knowing look in her eyes unnerved him. She knew as well as he that this would haunt him until his dying day.
He waited until they were gone before uncapping the bottle with the fervor born of desperation. One long mouthful, then he rushed to Goku's side, coaxing him back to awareness. They were not so far gone as to be completely unconscious, and when he pressed a cup containing the antidote to Goku's lips, the youth had enough strength to swallow.
Sanzo watched his face critically for any signs of recovery. Goku slumped back against the floor, but his breathing seemed less labored and the faintest flush of color was visible in his face. Sanzo allowed himself a quiet sigh of released tension before moving on to Hakkai and Gojyo. By the time he had administered the antidote to Hakuryuu, Goku was breathing peacefully in the calm hold of sleep.
Sanzo collapsed bonelessly against the wall, ignoring the flare of pain from the shoulder wound. It would have to be washed and bandaged, but for now he lacked the strength to even stand. They had to rest... he needed to rest, and not even the his customary caution when in enemy territory could stop his eyelids from drifting shut.
***
To be continued.
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A/N :
While my attention is undeniably drifting from Saiyuki (back) to LoTR; while the vastly higher quality of LoTR fanfiction (in general) is leaving me rather unsatisfied with my current work...
...I assure you that I have no intention of abandoning this fanfic. It should be concluded in one, maybe two chapters, after which I will turn my attention to 'Impossibility', 'And Time Again', and possibly 'Count the Stars'.
I would have completed this chapter earlier if not for the sudden onslaught of schoolwork (I was absolutely unaware of the passing of time during October and November, except that the school library was not so crowded when I was working there on Sundays.) Following which I was literally struck from my chair by illness while typing this chapter; if there is a sudden change in direction midway, that's the reason... I'd forgotten what I was writing by the time I came back to it.
Thank you for holding on; I know how frustrating cliffhangers are (and I didn't give you one in this chapter. Isn't that nice?) I will not be doing a full equivalent of what transpired for Sanzo for each of the characters, although I'm still undecided as to whether to do it in brief.
Thank you for the reviews. I hope the next update will be quicker.