Generic Disclaimer: Gensomaden Saiyuki and the characters contained within don't belong to me, much as I wish they did. sigh...

Sorry that this one has taken a little more time to bring out. I've recently changed my diet, and it's bloody amazing just how much one or two sodas a day can boost your energy. I haven't had any caffeine since Tuesday, and boy am I feeling it. I found it difficult to close this one as well, but I'm hoping to make up for that in the next chapter. No real spoilers here, except for brief mention of Hakkai's background. PG-13 for Gojyo's potty mouth. Sorry if this chapter seems like little more than a filler.

Also: I really wish I could read/write/speak Japanese. I want to have a name for the killer plant (other than kudzu), like the ninjingka does. Only I really suck and have no idea what kind of name to give it. Anyone have any ideas? It's not like the whole story hinges on a name, but I'd like to have something proper to call it. I'd appreciate the help! :3

Review comments on the bottom.

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italics indicate emphasis, internal dialogue, and dialogue that has occurred in the past/memories.

FEAR ITSELF

"...the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

Franklin D. Roosevelt, first inaugural address – March 4, 1933

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SECTION SIX

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Sanzo was tired. Everything hurt – his muscles, his bones, his hair, his nails, his teeth. Everything throbbed in time to the beat of his heart, to the rush of blood through his veins. A headache loomed in the back of his skull, hot and heavy like the air in this godforsaken forest, ready to crash down and overwhelm his senses the moment he was distracted. The second he paused in his effort to keep the beast at bay, he knew it would drop him on the spot like a sledgehammer to the temple. Already he could feel its hungry fingers creeping down his spine, pinching the nerves at the base of his neck. When it came on, no amount of pain killers would help him.

His only defense against it was the fact that he simply didn't have the time or the luxury to have a headache right now. When this was all over and done with, he'd lie down and let the pain run its course. Preferably after a hot bath and a meal, not necessarily in that order.

It would help, though, if he had a cigarette. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought to nick Gojyo's lighter before separating from him.

Damn the luck, he thought, and ducked an overhanging branch.

Sanzo honestly couldn't admit that he knew where he was going. Not in a physical sense, anyways; his knowledge of woodscraft had expanded exponentially in the time since he'd been set on his mission from the gods, but what he knew really only worked if he could see the sky. As it was, the sky was locked away from his sight, covered by an oppressive tapestry of tree canopy and darkness. He could only see far enough ahead to keep from getting smacked in the face by random branches, and had to feel forward carefully to keep from tripping on roots hidden from his sight. What direction he was heading in and what lay at the end of his path were unknown to him.

In another sense, though... with the sense that had alienated him from other people for his whole life, the sense that allowed him to manipulate the Maten-kyomen and detect the youryoku of most demonic creatures, the sense that he hated referring to as spirituality or the 'sixth sense'... in that sense, he knew exactly where he was going. In that instinctive way that was not quite instinct, he knew exactly what lay ahead of him: Goku and the main root of the kudzu vine. Or... whatever one would call the main body of a plant with so many appendages. He knew (again, in that instinctive way) that what he had blasted away when waking from his dream, and when rescuing Gojyo, was nothing more than a small part of the whole. What he killed, and what Gojyo would soon kill, wouldn't harm the kudzu at all unless the main body was taken out. He could still feel the raw hunger that dominated the senses of the plant, coming closer with every step. It was up there, somewhere. Somewhere close.

So was Goku, caught in his own nightmares. Sanzo was still unnerved (and yes, perhaps even a little confused, much as he hated that particular state) by the mixed messages he was receiving from the youth. In his own interaction with the kudzu, he had heard the boy call out to him as he had while still locked away in Mount Gogyo – terrified, lonely, cold, hungry. A constant wash of pitiful emotions, interspersed with random pleas for food or comfort, demands of 'come find me' and the strange statement of 'you promised'. The last he hadn't heard often, but to this day it still confounded him.

Upon waking, the odd connection Goku had with him was back to normal – or at least as normal as it had been since Sanzo had released him from his mountain prison. Just a silent watchfulness, a knowing; occasionally emotions would get through, when Goku was particularly distraught over something, but even that was pale and washed out compared to the flux of thoughts that had reached him before.

And then, in Gojyo's dream, the complete one-eighty in emotions: distraught, yes, and frightened, but rejecting any form of comfort or contact. Before, it had been like a pull on a string (come find me, hurts, come find me), but while in that nightmare it was like being brought up against a brick wall, pushed away by a relentless current. Goku hadn't wanted to be found; it had almost been like he wanted to remain lost.

Gojyo had been an incredible distraction, particularly when he lost his temper, but through the exchange Sanzo had managed to find the elusive thread of Goku's presence again – still a silent watcher, hidden in the background, but still forcing away any kind of contact. No distraught emotions were making their way through, because the youth had (no doubt unconsciously) clamped down so hard on his end of the link that none could possibly leak out. Sanzo hadn't noticed it before because he hadn't even thought to touch the fragile tie. He rarely ever had to.

All the same, he could not help but berate himself for such thoughtlessness. He did so in a tiny voice that was easily pushed aside in favor for thoughts of how many shots he could put into the kudzu vine before it stopped twitching, and how many more he would put in just be on the safe side. And though he was well aware that noticing this fact earlier would have brought him to Goku's side no sooner, the knowledge didn't make his failure sting any less.

Stupid monkey, he thought angrily. You're supposed to take care of yourself. I'm not your goddamn caretaker. I shouldn't have to rescue you every time you throw yourself into the fire.

But here he was, doing just that. Regardless of the fact that, more and more often, it was Goku pulling him out of the fire, when he had gotten in too deep. In many ways it was a slap in the face for his pride, but in other ways it pleased him inordinately. One less person to worry about, one less person whose back he'd have to watch. One less person for him to worry about saving.

It appeared that Goku was still just an irritating brat, though. Just when it appeared that he would be able to take care of himself, he went and got himself tangled with a killer plant – and not just any part of that plant, but the part closest to the root of said plant, where Sanzo was probably going to have the most difficultly getting to him. But that was an adequate way to describe Goku, wasn't it? Difficult. Damn right he was difficult. Stupid monkey.

The silence of the forest was becoming more and more oppressive. Any sound would be better than this nothingness, even Goku's constant whining for food. Especially Goku's whining – hearing the boy would at least assure Sanzo that Goku was safe.

A particularly large oak blocked his path, the boughs twisted and bent with years of long life, ferns and moss caked deep in the ancient seams of bark. He skirted a limb that dipped down and rested on the ground, the leaves scraping against his robes and the ferns whispering from the disturbance he caused. Beyond the tree was a natural clearing, where several pines had fallen from rot or from lack of sunlight, the trunks thrusting splintered fingers into the sky. The light from the full moon above cast sharp shadows, bleaching the color from the tall grass and scattered branches, dying everything in shades of white and gray. The forest that surrounded the clearing was a pitch black wall that offered no clue as to its contents, daring him to reenter once he had escaped into the moonlight.

Sanzo stayed where he was, in the diluted shadows beneath the old oak, not in darkness or in light. The headache that had plagued the edges of his sense was abruptly gone, the unexpected surge of adrenaline pushing the pain aside. His pistol weighed heavy in his hand, and he touched his index finger to the trigger, gently, as a reminder that he was indeed armed and capable of protecting himself.

But was he truly?

On the other side of the clearing, out in plain sight, stood a god. The moon dyed everything in shades of white and gray, but the eyes that met his were still that mocking shade of blue and gold.

"Hello again, Konzen," Homura said softly.

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If there was one thing Gojyo had learned about Hakkai over the three years he'd lived with the man, it was that Hakkai never did anything by halves. To the innocent observer, Hakkai was the quiet, unobtrusive sort, who watched his P's and Q's and always picked up after himself, held open doors for ladies and didn't frequently curse, 'sankyuu' this and 'sumimasen' the other. It was a remarkably efficient mask for what really lay under the surface: the fact that Hakkai could be a seriously cruel son-of-a-bitch when he chose to be, and that when Hakkai felt like blowing something up, he blew it up good. With his serene green-eyed friend, it was all or nothing, blood all over the place or spotlessly clean. Gojyo had never, ever seen Hakkai do something halfway.

Apparently that little attribute (good or bad, Gojyo had yet to decide) also extended to how Hakkai preferred to be eaten by carnivorous plants: all at once or in tiny bites. It seemed he preferred the 'all at once' method.

The kudzu hissed and rattled in frenzy, the thick rubbery vines sliding over each other in the darkness like a nest of snakes. Dead leaves and debris were scattered all over the ground from Gojyo's efforts at weed-whacking, and from beneath the mess he could barely make out Hakkai's limp form. Another vine ventured out of the underbrush towards him, and the red-head cleanly snipped off the tip with the wide paddle-blade at the end of his shakujou. What had been cut off died instantly, the large hairy leaves browning and withering into shapeless husks, the remaining portion of the plant withdrawing into the shadows. More kudzu crept through the canopy overhead, the pin-prick light of the moon dancing strobe-like across the forest floor. It was horribly distracting, but Gojyo didn't dare strike any of the plant above him unless it attacked from that direction. The last thing he wanted to do was unknowingly cut a supporting branch and cause the whole thing to tumble down on top of him.

Hakuryuu had disappeared the instant they had found Hakkai, but that eased his mind, rather than upset him. He had half expected the dragon to do something stupid, like try and set the vines on fire to free its master. That would be an interesting tactic to try, but Gojyo had a feeling they'd burn the forest down before they'd even singe the demonic plant. And he didn't want to waste his lighter fluid. But the only white he saw was that of the moonlight creeping through the twisting leaves overhead, and he was thankful that the beast had the good sense to get out of the way. Hakuryuu had, after all, been the only one who had escaped the clutches of the kudzu vine.

Guess that makes Hakuryuu smarter than all the rest of us, he though in amusement. He wondered how Sanzo would react to that insinuation, and made a mental note to make mention of this fact later on.

More vines slithered in his direction, and he twisted his weapon to slice off the invading tips of each one, dancing carefully around the fallen body of his friend. There was still kudzu attached to Hakkai, and he was even more careful not to damage those stalks - he could see where one sucker had attached itself to Hakkai's cheek, and a spear-like bouquet of purple blossoms obscured what portions of his face were visible. The whole place stunk like a wine factory, the sickly sweet scent of grapes rotting in the sun. Gojyo knew he would be smelling grapes on his hair and clothing for days after this, and he probably wouldn't be able to eat the fruit for at least a month.

"You always make things unnecessarily difficult on me, you bastard," he muttered to Hakkai, driving off yet another tangle of vines. Hakkai didn't bother to answer.

It took some time before he could convince the kudzu that he wasn't worth the effort of eating. It still hissed and whispered at him from where it hid in the darkness and in the canopy overhead, but it did eventually stop attacking. He wasn't entirely sure why it didn't just drop down on top of him like a ton of bricks, but the half-demon wasn't going to question things too deeply. Plants weren't, after all, at the top of the food chain (in normal situations, at least); if they had any form of intelligence at all, they would have taken over the world a long time ago.

Keeping one eye on the surging darkness around him, Gojyo slowly knelt next to his friend, the shakujou held ready in his right hand. Moonlight flickered over the clearing, and the vibrant green of Hakkai's shirt was bleached pale where the light reached and black where it didn't. What he could see of the fallen man's skin was sickly white, and the one hand that protruded out from under the twitching herbage looked bone-like and frail.

Touch him. Somehow, that pulled me into your dream.

You'd better be right, Sanzo, the half-demon thought malevolently. Or I swear to god I'm going to steal all your goddamn cigarettes and throw them on the fire.

He reached out with his free hand, wrapping it around the too-thin hand of his friend. The kudzu's rattling escalated in agitation (or in anticipation?), and the instant Hakkai's cold skin touched his, he saw –

Be a good boy and stay still, Gojyo... mama will make it quick... just...

...just stay still...

- darkness. Absolute, complete, utter darkness.

"Fuck a duck," Gojyo swore. Who the hell turned off the lights?

It was then that he realized the hissing anxiety of the kudzu had vanished, and his voice echoed through the pitch blackness the way he imagined it would in a tomb. The last stirring vibrations of his voice faded away, slowly, and then there was nothing to greet his ears: an absolute silence to match the darkness that met his eyes.

He could still feel his weapon in his grip, the pole smooth and slightly slippery from sweat. The air itself weighed heavily on his shoulders and in his chest, humid, pressing against his eardrums and making it hard to breathe. He swallowed reflexively, and felt his ears pop; took a slow breath through his mouth, tasting the moldiness of a place never well aired out, sour; exhaled and took another slow breath through his nose, and nearly gagged as the offensive scent of death, pungent and altogether too sweet, overrode his senses.

The scent of blood. And not just a little blood, but a fucking lot of blood. Gallons of it. Dozens of people must have died in the very spot he stood in for the smell to be so strong. He could easily picture the eviscerated corpses of twenty or more men or women or both, blood sprayed on the walls and puddling on the floors, broken hands flung out as if begging for salvation or a quick death or both.

What kind of weirdo dream of Hakkai's had he just stepped into?

At least it worked, Gojyo decided after a moment of pondering. Whatever this dream has to do with, at least I'm here to pull Hakkai out of it. Now I just have to find out where he is –

The image of the death imagined around him suddenly made him very hesitant to take a step without any way to see where he was going. Gojyo really didn't want to step in anyone's discarded guts. Not only was it disrespectful for the dead, but it was actually kinda nasty.

He dug his free hand into his pocket, pulled out his Zippo, and brought the small flame into being with a quick snap of his wrist. The metallic click echoed through the darkness, ridiculously loud in comparison to the absolute silence it was competing against. At first he couldn't see anything, for his eyes were not quick to adjust to the relative brightness of his lighter; but once they did, the red-head was forced to swallow down another urge to gag.

The picture he had conjured up in his head wasn't too far from the truth. There were six... seven... at least ten men scattered around the confines of the stone room he stood in, their bodies twisted and broken in the cruel embrace of death. The circle of light cast by his lighter was small, but large enough to illuminate the way the blood had seeped into the cracks between the flagstones, the delicate arc of blood against the wall – a jugular sliced open here, a man thrown against the stone wall there. There were weapons on the floor as well, indicating that these men had been ready to fight, if not willingly, but none of them showed signs of a successful strike. Whoever had blown through this room appeared to have done so without receiving a single hit in return.

On the other side of the room lay an open door, and he could just barely see that there were steps leading down beyond the threshold. Over the door, carved in the stone itself, was a standard that Gojyo recognized instantly, although he had never seen it before: an open eye.

The demon of a hundred eyes. The Centipede King.

Hyakuganmaoh.

Gojyo began to swear, but cut the words off before they could leave his lips. He should have known better than to let his imagination serve him a different reality than the one expected. If the kudzu vine fed off of their greatest fears, their darkest nightmares, then there was only one thing that Hakkai would be dreaming about: the two-month period after his lover, his sister, Kanan, was delivered up to the Crow Clan and later given to Hyakuganmaoh himself. The two months in which Cho Hakkai, then Cho Gonou, had slaughtered half a village, all but a few of the Crow Clan, and the entire clan of the Centipede King, down to the last babe in its cradle. All those deaths, a thousand demon lives and a few hundred human lives, all to save a woman who had taken her life when she was just outside of his grasp.

Gojyo raised his lighter higher, ignoring the obscene way the blood sparkled in the flickering rays of the small flame. Through that door and down those steps lay Cho Gonou, he knew that now: Gonou and the woman he could never give up, no matter how many years she had lain dead, if not buried.

Hakkai would smile and joke and pretend everything was okay, and Gojyo would joke along with him, but he knew that inside Hakkai had never gotten over the deaths he had caused. Each life lay heavily on the other man's soul, and sometimes the weight was too much to bear. In the year following Gonou's death and Hakkai's birth, the red-head had expected multiple suicide attempts, and was always glad that they never came. Hakkai was more than capable of killing himself out of guilt when everyone else had their back turned.

Now, though... now that they were back in the past, back when the blood was still wet to the touch, would Gojyo have even the slightest chance of competing against a woman long dead?

I don't know, he told himself honestly. I don't know what kind of hold I might have on him here. Will he even remember me? This happened days before I found him on the road, guts hanging out and bleeding to death. Will he recognize me, or will he try to kill me, seeing me as just another demon in his way?

Gojyo didn't know what he would do if Hakkai tried to attack him. He had his weapon, but... could he consider turning it on his own friend? Would he even be capable of defending himself? It wasn't just beginner's luck that allowed a mild-mannered school teacher to slaughter a thousand demons, many of them well-taught in the ways of war and combat. Hakkai was a ridiculously skilled opponent, even when he was fighting without the use of his chi. Gojyo faced the very real possibility that he would be forced to fight his friend, and could quite possible lose.

But you can't die in dreams, he reminded himself, perhaps a bit too quickly. Even if I'm forced to fight him, I don't have to worry about going easy. I can't kill him, and he can't kill me. It'll be fine. I just have to find him and wake his happy ass up. Nothing to it.

You think we could have died in there?

I don't know.

Gojyo scowled and forced Sanzo's voice out of his head, just as he forced out the sight of those broken bodies that hovered at the edges of his circle of light. He couldn't afford to be hesitant at this point. Every second he dawdled was a second that was tallied in the kudzu's favor. Sanzo would never let him live it down if he let Hakkai get eaten by a rabid grape vine. He wouldn't let himself live it down.

"Okay," he said aloud, exhaling harshly. He just had to go down those steps and make it to Hakkai's side. Then he would deal with things as they came.

Nothing to it.

"Okay," he said again, and stepped forward. One step, two steps, three steps; he carefully avoided the body of a demon sprawled in his path, stepping over the out-flung arms and the puddles of blood. His boots stuck to the floor nonetheless, slurping loudly in the silence, leaving bloody prints where the flagstones were left bare. Gojyo closed his eyes and his ears and moved on without looking downward, keeping the paddle-blade of his weapon up off the floor, keeping his gaze fixated on the doorway that would lead him down into the dungeon.

He lowered the lighter when he reached the stairs, ignoring the handprints smeared on the wooden door. It was a fair way to the bottom, but he could see the bold outline of light beneath a closed door. There was no sound except that of his breathing, the hissing of gas released and feeding the flame of his Zippo, and just barely that of fire crackling on the heads of unseen torches. Down those steps and through that door lay Hakkai, Cho Gonou and the dead woman of his dreams, possibly in a well-lit room, no doubt surrounded by corpses and blood. That was where the kudzu was going to attack.

God this was going to hurt. If the plant decided to use Kanan in order to attack Hakkai...

Gojyo grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the lighter, ignoring the heat that threatened to blister his thumb. He hadn't gone through all of this shit just to watch Hakkai let himself get killed by his dead sweetheart. Three years of torment, watching the man slowly piece himself back together, waiting for the smiles that were real and hidden so efficiently among the smiles that were not. He was always watching, when Hakkai didn't realize it, watching for the subtle signs that declared depression, and working quickly to try and dispel those worrisome signs. His efforts often did no good, but it was better that he try than to sit by and do nothing at all. Allowing his fear of Hakkai's own memories to stop him from going down those steps would be as good as sitting down right now and twiddling his thumbs as he listened to the kudzu murder his best friend.

Kanan was dead, just like his mother. The dead could only haunt, not kill. And no one could die in their dreams.

There was only one thing he could do, and that was to go forward.

Gojyo released the trigger on his lighter, letting the flame die and the light around him disappear. It only took a second for his gaze to adjust, now that he knew where to look. Soon the light that seeped through the door at the bottom of the steps flared like a beacon, inviting, beckoning. He put the lighter back in his pocket, feeling the warmth through the material of his jeans.

Okay.

He took the first step and let the stairs carry him downward.

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keistje: I love seeing your reviews; you're right, every author loves to get reviews – the more reviews a story has, the better the story tends to be, right? I only hope that someday I'll be as good a writer as to have as many reviews as you do! A Simple Kiss will remain on my favorites list for some time to come, even though I'll miss seeing it updated. Can't wait to see your next story!

Blades of Ice: Yours has to be one of the greatest compliments I've ever received – just like reading the manga-ka's work? I couldn't stop squeeing after I got your review in my mail-box. Thank you so much!

Shelley: I would love to see a picture of that particular scene. Hell, if I was an artist, I'd be drawing this out as a doujinshi instead of a fanfiction! :D!

VG Terra: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the Homura-tachi just yet. He only had a brief part in this chapter, but I plan on having an in-depth scene with him and Sanzo after Hakkai's dream pans out. Not the next chapter, but the one after that, maybe? And yes, Goku has gotten caught up in the plant. I'll have lots of fun writing out his dream... mwahaha! :3

Haruka Hana: Such a long and intricate review really made my day! It inspired me to get up off my ass and write out the last 2k or so words of this story, even though I was dead tired. I'm so pleased that you've enjoyed this fic so far, and I hope to finish it out to your satisfaction. And yes, Goku's dream is going to be very dark and twisted indeed – isn't it lovely how we can play around with his past since Minekura hasn't exactly told us what that past is yet? XD! This will probably end up being rendered AU by the time Gaiden is finished, but I'll enjoy every minute of it all the same. So glad you reviewed!