Disclaimer (applies for the two parts) : Don't you guess? They're not mine!
Warnings: Unlike the characters, all the mistakes are unfortunately mine! Any help welcome ( and I don't mind blames and flames either…). Yaoï hinted. One shot posted in two parts because tends to mess up with long chapters… Sorry for the inconvenience.
Reviewer's corner : You've all been so kind to me with « Prescience »! I love you all minna-san!
Sanada: Your comments are always soooo welcome. It's a real pleasure to hear from you any time! Take care!
Cesmith: I hope you'll like this one, too. We can't get enough of Gojyo and Hakkai, don't you agree?
Keruri1222: Wow! So nice feedbacks! Arigato! Very glad you liked even if I'm afraid my « style » is above all the result of lack of English vocabulary : you may regret that comment by reading this one…
Reiya: I was surprised: it was the first time you reviewed one of my stories with no Kou in it. Surprised but very, very happy! Thanks!
Tiqa: So? Did you survive your exams? I'm suuuuure you were alright! I know you prefer Tenpou and Kenren, but you'll have to bear Hakkai and Gojyo, here…
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« A Thousand Leaves »
A midnight chat between Hakkai and Gojyo. Set after Homura's death, but before the wish upon a star (which closes up the second season)… Mainly Hakkai's POV. (unlike what we see in « Burial » – Reload manga- I assume Gojyo never saw Hakkai without his limiters)
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Most of « normal » people use to lull themselves to sleep by counting sheeps. I do not.
I count leaves… Vine-like leaves.
One, two, three…It had been a while I had stopped, though. But after today's events… The strange habit of old rainy nights came back full-force almost on its own.
My own and true face recalled itself to my memories.
I've reached towards my limiters and taken them off. I have freed the real me.
Ho, I had a good enough reason, that's for sure. They were so much, these god-devoted youkai. And they wouldn't die. First, I thought it would be easy. They kept up coming back, but the full power of the youkai in me was enough. The cold fury running in that blood had to be enough. I tore their limbs off, bit by bit…
But these fallen arms and legs were still crawling on the floor, reaching for me. This soulless flesh, I had to…
My god… In the end there was nothing left but fresh blood in the whole area.
I still remember looking for the limiters and fishing them in a puddle of crimson liquid, afterwards. It was as if my hands were covered with thin red gloves. I couldn't stand it so I used a surge of ki to get rid of that off my skin.
Then, I needed a few seconds more to put firmly Cho Hakkai's mask into place as securely as the limiters on my ear. But I had to hurry to join the others…
First it had been easy to go on. Gojyo was in danger. Then, we were all in danger. Fighting to survive kept me from thinking (much). Most of all, it was a different kind of regret, that fight with the gods…
Blacking out, after all that, would have been so much more easy. Merciful, even. But he wouldn't let me. The thought of the others I didn't know where they were, too, but him mainly. He half-dragged me all the way to the top of the tower. Towards a new Heaven.
We witnessed a death. Again. Homura. No joy in triumph, today. Only the relief of being alive, at the most.
And then, the way back to retrace our own steps.
I still remember our « foes ». Strange. I even recall being glad they were alive if not unscathed.
They were all standing behind their master, very close. But not threatening us. Just acknowledging the fact we had made it alive as well.
The defiant little prince, holding the second sutra before our very eyes before leaving. No words needed. No farewell either, of course. There's no use. We all know we'll cross path again. They disappeared. Just like that.
It was time for us to leave as well, I suppose.
We walked all the way downwards, each floor where still lingered the memories of the past fights…To the ground. Towards the first room we had entered. That room.
I didn't want to go back there… These memories, I didn't want to confront.
This is the end. The world is still here and safe. We're all alive. Why should I go back in this room?
As I asked Sanzo whether we couldn't take the same path the Kougaiji party used to come in (a huge hole in the wall, I saw), I didn't recognize my own voice…Blank. I think something in it scared Gojyo. He tensed against my body as he was still almost carrying me. The monk heard, but he just glared and kept walking at once.
But I felt his hesitation, if only a split second, before he pushed resolutely the high door on our way. Here we were. We stepped in the room.
Red walls. The walls were all bloody red. The whole floor too. Even the ceiling. A red room. I don't know how I managed to get only a few stains on my shirt after that.
I don't want them to see.
I feel myself closing my eyes. I don't need them, the feeling of Gojyo's body still against mine can lead me alone.
No, it's not that. I don't want to look at the others seeing what I am able to do. What I am. This redness on the wall is more me than anything they saw during this already long journey. This bloody journey. Hakkai the former human, the youkai now. Look.
« So what? » Sanzo. The tone who makes the others feel like fools.
I open my eyes.
« I had known, I wouldn't have been so worried leaving you all alone in here… » Gojyo. Carefully neutral.
« Sugeeeee! » Goku of course. It reminds me the day we met Kougaiji. Sometimes, I wonder why I worry about the kid…
« Gods. Next time, try to wipe out all of them: there's still a hand here… » A hand currently clinging to our favourite sanzo monk's ankle. The gun talked, as usual. It muffled my answer.
Hai.
Is that so easy to accept? What I truly am?
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A inn.
Fortunately, Hakuryu drove us here almost all by himself…
We hardly talked during the meal. Four silhouettes at the same table, each so deep in his own thoughts we must have looked like four strangers to each other.
Even Goku didn't eat that much.
And I drank a lot.
« Could I have a little bit more sake, onee-san? »
…twenty-seven, twenty-eight…
The waitress, a midle-aged woman, answered this time with a slight frown: « I don't want to know how much sorrows you have to drown in so much alcohol… »
Gojyo blinked as he heard the statement and gave me a weird look. But said nothing.
Less than an hour after that, we left the table to join our rooms.
oOoOoOo
A room.
Gojyo can't sleep. It's been a while he is turning over and over again on his mattress. He suddenly gives up and stands. I don't know what comes into me as I fake sleep when he calls my name. He sighs. Leaves the room. He is going to find a girl, a comforting one night stand like usual, I suppose…
I hate it anytime he leaves like this. Not the fact he is with somebody else. Just the fact not feeling him in here.
Sometimes, staring at the void, the time flies quickly by.
…one hundred sixty six, one hundred sixty seven…
Door. He is coming back.
He smells of tabacco and alcohol more than sex, tonight.
He is softly muttering something, too. Strange…As if talking to somebody.
« …this isn't the right place, and this is sure the wrong time. So I look at you from afar, from the corner of my eyes, and I try not to think of it. My intentions are good, you know, I try not to have myself involved in you, really. I try not to touch you, not even brushing past you, and life goes on as it has to. I shrug feelings like… ducks brush off water on their feathers just to keep dry…or safe… »
He just lets himself fall on his bed with a deep sigh. The old mattress creaks its protest. The room is almost empty of furniture. My voice rings with a strange echo.
« Gojyo, you are very drunk, » I state even if he certainly doesn't need me to be aware of the fact. I hear reproach in my own words. Weird. I never minded him coming back home in a drunk state, as far as he came back, before…
But he is talking about feelings tonight. It's far too personal. I shouldn't hear that. I don't want to. Can't deal with mine. Won't help him with his ones. Don't want to know, if he suffers and I can't help him.
He flinches. Didn't know I was awake. Not fair, I know.
« No shit, » he answers after a time with an inebriated mirthless laughter.
« I mean… You shouldn't have to wait until being in this state to talk to me. This is not right. »
What's the matter with me? Saying something like that? So maybe I want to know after all…
« Because you're so talkative yourself, hu? ». Bitter. « You don't even let me know any time you're hurt, anytime you're afraid, any time you're angry – »
« But I don't have to : sure, you always know, » I cut softly.
That's true. Always. It's almost frightening sometimes, any time I realize the mask I had so confidence in is no use…
« As for me, » I resume, « I've always been deaf to these kinds of things, or blind, whatever you want to call it. Unless you tell, I'll never be able to know what weighs on you. Maybe waiting eternally for a better time isn't the answer, but I haven't any other one. So until then…»
« …Nothing changes, » he says.
… What do we do? I was about to finish. But he settled the problem. Nothing changes. Yes, It's safer. Maybe. Even if I hate silence. Even if I hate secrets almost as much as Goku as long as they aren't mine.
But if nothing changes, there's no use talking about it, right?
…three hundred forty-two, three hundred forty three…
Clicking sound. The lighter.
« And you, what were you thinking? Since you weren't sleeping… » He sounds angry. Even the thick cloud of smoke he breaths out looks angry.
I have to say something, here… And I already know he won't like the answer. But…Honesty. Sincerity. He tried to teach me that, during the past few years. Sometimes it works:
« Past. » After all that's true. These leaves I'm counting have their roots deep embedded in the past. He has this smirk. The one who is bitter on the edges, but clearly means he is not surprised at all.
« You know, you're a chameleon, Hakkai, » he states suddenly.
Touché. Always trying to hide.
« These animals… It's said they're unable to live in the present. Sometimes I look at you looking at your past, and I think maybe I'm not real 'cause present doesn't mean anything to you. » He glances at me from the corner of his garnet-like eyes, but breaks swiftly eye-contact before I can answer.
The comparison is strange. Or maybe we're not speaking of the same chameleon. Hiding skills. I thought it was their particularity… That's funny the way he sees them. Damn funnier than thinking of the way he sees me. THAT is scary. He is speaking as if my eyes were threatening his very … existence…
« You know… Sharing you with shadows of your past or ghosts, or whatever it could be… I don't care as far as I have my share. »
He frowns. Maybe he has said out loud something he didn't want me to know. He lays on his side, now. All I can see is his back.
…four hundred sixteen, four hundred seventeen…
But his voice rings clear again whereas I was thinking he wouldn't speak any more.
…four hundred eight -
« So, you got rid of your limiters, today… »
- teen.
He tries another subject, thinking maybe I'll prefer remain deaf this time again to his previous words, as I usually do. But it's growing harder and harder to do as if the feelings in my chest weren't part of me… My share.
What does he want?
(To be followed… Just push the button, onegaï!)