Title: The Near Death Incident
By: Tyrne J
Series: Gensoumaden Saiyuki
Disclaimer: Written by a fan, for fans only. The story of a dysfunctional family of a monk and three demons out on a prolonged field trip is owned by Kazuya Minekura, and the original story that was based on is owned by... someone, I'm sure, but I'm pretty sure that was all cleared by Minekura whenever the dysfunctional family was created in the first place. The author of this fanfic claims no rights to all that – only her own fanfiction, from which there comes no profit whatsoever. Oog.
[notes: Another attempt at a submission to the 38 Incidents Project, as indicated by the title. I was really happy that people liked the Morning After one (thanks for the reviews! ::really happy:: ), so I came up with another one (really just likes the pairing). This one's more disconnected than the first. My apologies in advance.]
The sound of running.
"Hakkai! HAKKAI!"
"Hang in there, Sanzo! Hey! Do you hear me?"
"... Shut up..."
"Hakkai, Sanzo's in trouble!"
"Goku! Gojyo! What happened – what - "
"Damned... we were too far away to stop – "
"– Hakkai, do something!"
"Put him down, I need to see the wound..."
"I wasn't gonna move him, but those guys, they were all over the place, and – "
"Shit, that thing went in deep, he'd better not die..."
"I said, shut... up..."
"He-hey! Don't fall asleep now! Wake up! Wake up, dammit! You still owe me!"
"Sanzo..."
"I'm trying to close the wound as much as possible, but..."
"Hakkai? But what?"
"There's something else."
"Whaddaya mean, 'something else'?"
"I don't..."
"Hakkai?"
"What the – Hakkai? Answer me!"
"Something's wrong with his eyes, Gojyo! What's going on? What do we do?"
"... I don't know."
She loved to make things with her hands. A lot of them included the flowers from the fields outside the village, but some of them were actually useful, like potteries and baskets. Her creations were very simple, yet, in their own way, intricate beyond imagining.
And that was only one of the things he loved about her. Another thing, her smile, which she was aiming at him even as he gazed intently at her working hands.
"Gonou?"
"Hmmmm?"
"What do you think we should have for dinner tonight?"
"Mmmm, I don't know. Today's fresh fish looked good..."
"Hm, I saw them, too, on the way back from the school. They did look like they would go well with the vegetables I got earlier."
"Then, fish it is."
"Then, can you do me a favor and pick some up later? I have a few things to do back here before tomorrow's meeting."
"Mmmm."
"Gonou?"
"Yes, Kanan?"
The hands stopped moving, then reached forward to cup his chin. "You'll do that for me, right?"
A smile, genuine and unhindered. "Of course."
Lithe hands, tapping along the counter in search of a scissors –
/ - something sharp - /
looking for something to cut the flowers –
/ - to slice through an unyielding - /
"Gonou?"
"Eh, something wrong, Kanan?"
Bright eyes. He loved her eyes, always clear, never hiding anything, heartbreaking when sad.
He never wanted to see her cry.
She was standing at the lakeshore, dress moving lightly in the soft breeze. A few stray strands of hair floated by her eyes, but only enough to cover one slightly. He could see her necklace trying to lift itself from her chest, and the end of her braid dripped a little. She had been sunning on the dock.
Long fingers reached for him. "Hey, Gonou, I want to make something. Help me?"
"There's no sand here, Kanan."
"I found some really nice clay over here – it holds together very well. See?"
"Ah! You're right!"
"So?"
"Huh?"
"What should we make, Gonou?"
"I... I don't know."
"Oh, I know!" A few whispered words – her voice sounded like the breeze, almost intangible, yet strong enough to be felt. A laugh that was like a bird's, that mingled with his own laughter in a sort of unprecedented harmony.
And her hands, guiding his own, over and over, as they built a tower out of clay, tall and lumpy, yet surprisingly capable of standing without help from its creators. The clay itself was a darkened red, thick and almost sticky, yet very pliable. He could see it trying to form gloves around his own hands, while her hands stayed next to immaculate, skillfully rolling off the clay as it tried to cling to her.
"Gonou?"
"Hm?"
"Do you love me?"
"Of course I do, Kanan."
/ - I love you, but I can't - /
Bright eyes, searching his face. "Really?"
"Really." Confused, he blinked back at her, not sure how to take the sudden change in mood. "Why do you ask?"
A smile. The closing of clear eyes. "No reason."
/ - I'd rather die - /
"Are you alright?"
He blinked, shook his head. "Ye-yeah, I'm fine. Just... hearing things."
She was dancing away from the tower, braid swinging. "Alright, then! Let's go back, and we can have fish! I have this great recipe I want to try out – you like lemons, right?"
The clay was still on his hands. He tried rolling it off, as she had done, but it was only sticking even more. What's more, any part he did manage to take off was leaving a stain. Dark red –
/ - the blood of a thousand - /
"Gonou? Let's go!" She was waiting at the top of hill, half-hidden by trees, the afternoon light streaming around her in dappled shade. Behind her, the path twisted toward a darkened forest, yet he knew that that path would lead him home.
"Wait a minute, Kanan!" He called, trying once more to get the clay off of his hands. Stained red, and now his clothes were starting to carry the mark of the sticky stuff. He was getting fairly frustrated now; for some reason, it was irritating him, an uncomfortable nagging that betrayed a sense of fear, and pain –
/ - youkai - /
He was in a hurry, now. Scrambling to the water's edge, he shoved his hands through its blue surface, scrubbing harshly at the substance he could still feel clinging to his fingertips. The clay was nasty; it held within it something tasteless, but dark and brooding. None of it. He wanted none of it – how could she stand working with the stuff? Behind him, he could hear her dancing away, treading softly on tree leaves and twigs, and hurriedly, he stood up, shaking off his hands, getting ready to run –
Something snagged his arm. He jerked his head around, feeling the awful stickiness of the clay clinging to his clothes, imagining the deep red it left behind on his hands. The feeling of dread was rising quickly in his stomach, and as he turned his head, his eyes widened and shook in shock and fear.
It was the tower. Part of it had stretched to attach itself to his arm, slowly wrapping itself around as if it were a hand itself. Its grip was firm, but when it had finished encircling his arm, it stopped, and merely waited.
Waited for what?
Panicking, he tried yanking on his arm, tried to call out – but no voice came forth, and she had given up on dragging him down the path with her. He reached forward with his other hand –
And had to stare once more in shock.
Blood-red hands, not his own not his own not – fingers bony and pointed, demonic –
The clay tightened on his arm, and he tried to scream, but again, no sound came out.
No sound.
Desperate, he looked back at the tower of clay, eyes begging, mouthing a plea for release. The smell of the clay was overpowering, its stickiness suffocating, its color –
/ - I just want to be back with her - /
Clear eyes gazed back at him, unblinking.
Unforgiving.
Lips moving. Lips on a red clay golem, with eyes clear as day.
That's not her.
Hakkai.
The clay breaking, and reddened skin turning pale in the afternoon sky. The breeze, stronger now, chipping away the drying clay. A hand, now gripping his arm, still firm, almost pressing to the bone. He stared at the man, his clear eyes, and the blonde, almost golden, hair framing a stony face.
And when the man had finished mouthing the last word, the name, he heard them again. The memories, crashing down on him like tidal waves, one after the other, the stains on his hands embedding themselves deeper into his skin.
There would be no way to remove them.
He grit his teeth. He knew now who the intruder was.
As he removed himself from the grip of the golden-haired man, he could feel her smile on his back, her real smile, coming from the rock where she had always been, had always danced, in his mind. The rock where the tower had been built. Ahead of him, the false laughter danced away, but he knew that all he really needed to do was...
"Gojyo, look! Hakkai! He's – "
"Oi! Hakkai? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"
"... yes. I'm... fine. ...! Sanzo!"
"You stopped halfway through, so we bandaged him up as much as we could. Are you really okay? What happened?"
"The leftover spirit of the youkai that wounded Sanzo... I'm fine."
"He said he was alright, so what about Sanzo? He's not dying, is he?"
"... No, you did a good job. I'm sorry to have dropped off like that..."
A long look. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"... Ugh..."
"Sanzo! He's waking up!"
"Didn't I say before... to shut up?"
"Looks like he'll be okay. I should never have worried."
"Sanzo's tougher than any youkai!"
"Did I hear you say something... ape?"
"Ah! No, not me!"
"I'll go get water. Goku, where'd ya leave Hakuryuu?"
"Oh, crap! He's still in town! Ack, I'll be right back!"
"Stupid monkey!" Faded voices.
Silence. The thud of something small on hard-packed earth. A clay figurine, palm-sized.
"She gives her regards."
"... Thank you."
"Don't do that again. It's a hassle to put up with those two alone."
A smile, genuine. "Of course."
The sound of rain.
[end]
[notes: So this was even longer than the Morning After story. And more Kanan love than anything else! Ack. And here I found out that there really isn't a decent way to write an English form of the affirmative "ehhh" without sounding too formal (yes) or too informal (yeah). --;; And writing "ehhh" sounds just doubtful. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, go back and listen to the Japanese dub. Hakkai does it a lot. What a nice guy. ]
By: Tyrne J
Series: Gensoumaden Saiyuki
Disclaimer: Written by a fan, for fans only. The story of a dysfunctional family of a monk and three demons out on a prolonged field trip is owned by Kazuya Minekura, and the original story that was based on is owned by... someone, I'm sure, but I'm pretty sure that was all cleared by Minekura whenever the dysfunctional family was created in the first place. The author of this fanfic claims no rights to all that – only her own fanfiction, from which there comes no profit whatsoever. Oog.
[notes: Another attempt at a submission to the 38 Incidents Project, as indicated by the title. I was really happy that people liked the Morning After one (thanks for the reviews! ::really happy:: ), so I came up with another one (really just likes the pairing). This one's more disconnected than the first. My apologies in advance.]
The sound of running.
"Hakkai! HAKKAI!"
"Hang in there, Sanzo! Hey! Do you hear me?"
"... Shut up..."
"Hakkai, Sanzo's in trouble!"
"Goku! Gojyo! What happened – what - "
"Damned... we were too far away to stop – "
"– Hakkai, do something!"
"Put him down, I need to see the wound..."
"I wasn't gonna move him, but those guys, they were all over the place, and – "
"Shit, that thing went in deep, he'd better not die..."
"I said, shut... up..."
"He-hey! Don't fall asleep now! Wake up! Wake up, dammit! You still owe me!"
"Sanzo..."
"I'm trying to close the wound as much as possible, but..."
"Hakkai? But what?"
"There's something else."
"Whaddaya mean, 'something else'?"
"I don't..."
"Hakkai?"
"What the – Hakkai? Answer me!"
"Something's wrong with his eyes, Gojyo! What's going on? What do we do?"
"... I don't know."
She loved to make things with her hands. A lot of them included the flowers from the fields outside the village, but some of them were actually useful, like potteries and baskets. Her creations were very simple, yet, in their own way, intricate beyond imagining.
And that was only one of the things he loved about her. Another thing, her smile, which she was aiming at him even as he gazed intently at her working hands.
"Gonou?"
"Hmmmm?"
"What do you think we should have for dinner tonight?"
"Mmmm, I don't know. Today's fresh fish looked good..."
"Hm, I saw them, too, on the way back from the school. They did look like they would go well with the vegetables I got earlier."
"Then, fish it is."
"Then, can you do me a favor and pick some up later? I have a few things to do back here before tomorrow's meeting."
"Mmmm."
"Gonou?"
"Yes, Kanan?"
The hands stopped moving, then reached forward to cup his chin. "You'll do that for me, right?"
A smile, genuine and unhindered. "Of course."
Lithe hands, tapping along the counter in search of a scissors –
/ - something sharp - /
looking for something to cut the flowers –
/ - to slice through an unyielding - /
"Gonou?"
"Eh, something wrong, Kanan?"
Bright eyes. He loved her eyes, always clear, never hiding anything, heartbreaking when sad.
He never wanted to see her cry.
She was standing at the lakeshore, dress moving lightly in the soft breeze. A few stray strands of hair floated by her eyes, but only enough to cover one slightly. He could see her necklace trying to lift itself from her chest, and the end of her braid dripped a little. She had been sunning on the dock.
Long fingers reached for him. "Hey, Gonou, I want to make something. Help me?"
"There's no sand here, Kanan."
"I found some really nice clay over here – it holds together very well. See?"
"Ah! You're right!"
"So?"
"Huh?"
"What should we make, Gonou?"
"I... I don't know."
"Oh, I know!" A few whispered words – her voice sounded like the breeze, almost intangible, yet strong enough to be felt. A laugh that was like a bird's, that mingled with his own laughter in a sort of unprecedented harmony.
And her hands, guiding his own, over and over, as they built a tower out of clay, tall and lumpy, yet surprisingly capable of standing without help from its creators. The clay itself was a darkened red, thick and almost sticky, yet very pliable. He could see it trying to form gloves around his own hands, while her hands stayed next to immaculate, skillfully rolling off the clay as it tried to cling to her.
"Gonou?"
"Hm?"
"Do you love me?"
"Of course I do, Kanan."
/ - I love you, but I can't - /
Bright eyes, searching his face. "Really?"
"Really." Confused, he blinked back at her, not sure how to take the sudden change in mood. "Why do you ask?"
A smile. The closing of clear eyes. "No reason."
/ - I'd rather die - /
"Are you alright?"
He blinked, shook his head. "Ye-yeah, I'm fine. Just... hearing things."
She was dancing away from the tower, braid swinging. "Alright, then! Let's go back, and we can have fish! I have this great recipe I want to try out – you like lemons, right?"
The clay was still on his hands. He tried rolling it off, as she had done, but it was only sticking even more. What's more, any part he did manage to take off was leaving a stain. Dark red –
/ - the blood of a thousand - /
"Gonou? Let's go!" She was waiting at the top of hill, half-hidden by trees, the afternoon light streaming around her in dappled shade. Behind her, the path twisted toward a darkened forest, yet he knew that that path would lead him home.
"Wait a minute, Kanan!" He called, trying once more to get the clay off of his hands. Stained red, and now his clothes were starting to carry the mark of the sticky stuff. He was getting fairly frustrated now; for some reason, it was irritating him, an uncomfortable nagging that betrayed a sense of fear, and pain –
/ - youkai - /
He was in a hurry, now. Scrambling to the water's edge, he shoved his hands through its blue surface, scrubbing harshly at the substance he could still feel clinging to his fingertips. The clay was nasty; it held within it something tasteless, but dark and brooding. None of it. He wanted none of it – how could she stand working with the stuff? Behind him, he could hear her dancing away, treading softly on tree leaves and twigs, and hurriedly, he stood up, shaking off his hands, getting ready to run –
Something snagged his arm. He jerked his head around, feeling the awful stickiness of the clay clinging to his clothes, imagining the deep red it left behind on his hands. The feeling of dread was rising quickly in his stomach, and as he turned his head, his eyes widened and shook in shock and fear.
It was the tower. Part of it had stretched to attach itself to his arm, slowly wrapping itself around as if it were a hand itself. Its grip was firm, but when it had finished encircling his arm, it stopped, and merely waited.
Waited for what?
Panicking, he tried yanking on his arm, tried to call out – but no voice came forth, and she had given up on dragging him down the path with her. He reached forward with his other hand –
And had to stare once more in shock.
Blood-red hands, not his own not his own not – fingers bony and pointed, demonic –
The clay tightened on his arm, and he tried to scream, but again, no sound came out.
No sound.
Desperate, he looked back at the tower of clay, eyes begging, mouthing a plea for release. The smell of the clay was overpowering, its stickiness suffocating, its color –
/ - I just want to be back with her - /
Clear eyes gazed back at him, unblinking.
Unforgiving.
Lips moving. Lips on a red clay golem, with eyes clear as day.
That's not her.
Hakkai.
The clay breaking, and reddened skin turning pale in the afternoon sky. The breeze, stronger now, chipping away the drying clay. A hand, now gripping his arm, still firm, almost pressing to the bone. He stared at the man, his clear eyes, and the blonde, almost golden, hair framing a stony face.
And when the man had finished mouthing the last word, the name, he heard them again. The memories, crashing down on him like tidal waves, one after the other, the stains on his hands embedding themselves deeper into his skin.
There would be no way to remove them.
He grit his teeth. He knew now who the intruder was.
As he removed himself from the grip of the golden-haired man, he could feel her smile on his back, her real smile, coming from the rock where she had always been, had always danced, in his mind. The rock where the tower had been built. Ahead of him, the false laughter danced away, but he knew that all he really needed to do was...
"Gojyo, look! Hakkai! He's – "
"Oi! Hakkai? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"
"... yes. I'm... fine. ...! Sanzo!"
"You stopped halfway through, so we bandaged him up as much as we could. Are you really okay? What happened?"
"The leftover spirit of the youkai that wounded Sanzo... I'm fine."
"He said he was alright, so what about Sanzo? He's not dying, is he?"
"... No, you did a good job. I'm sorry to have dropped off like that..."
A long look. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"... Ugh..."
"Sanzo! He's waking up!"
"Didn't I say before... to shut up?"
"Looks like he'll be okay. I should never have worried."
"Sanzo's tougher than any youkai!"
"Did I hear you say something... ape?"
"Ah! No, not me!"
"I'll go get water. Goku, where'd ya leave Hakuryuu?"
"Oh, crap! He's still in town! Ack, I'll be right back!"
"Stupid monkey!" Faded voices.
Silence. The thud of something small on hard-packed earth. A clay figurine, palm-sized.
"She gives her regards."
"... Thank you."
"Don't do that again. It's a hassle to put up with those two alone."
A smile, genuine. "Of course."
The sound of rain.
[end]
[notes: So this was even longer than the Morning After story. And more Kanan love than anything else! Ack. And here I found out that there really isn't a decent way to write an English form of the affirmative "ehhh" without sounding too formal (yes) or too informal (yeah). --;; And writing "ehhh" sounds just doubtful. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, go back and listen to the Japanese dub. Hakkai does it a lot. What a nice guy. ]