Author's note: If you haven't seen the end of Saiyuki, then for the love of your diety of choice, don't read this 'fic. Also, lots of angst. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Saiyuki. If I did, the final battle would have taken a whole lot longer, and Gojyo and Goku would have been animated as roughed up as Hakkai was.
Fragmented images. Distorted sounds. Memories? Thoughts? Like looking at the world from underwater. Nothing makes sense, images and sounds swoop around, collide, and break apart. Thump. Thump. Thump. There is a rhythmic concussion. Thump. It drags my swirling thoughts back into straight lines, if short ones. Thump. The fractured images shatter with each impact, fall away in showers of glittering bits. Thump. The distorted sounds condense, become almost recognizable. Thump. Gasp. Thump. Wait . . . gasp? Gasp. Thump. Someone is breathing. Thump. Gasp. Thump. Who? I force my awareness slowly outside my body, like moving through mud. Gasp. Thump. Someone is next to me. Thump. Gasp. Someone who is wounded. Thump. And holding me upright . . . ? Gasp. Drag. Thump. Upwards motion. Drag. Thump. Stairs? Gasp. Drag. Thump. I am being dragged up stairs. Drag. Thump. Who? Gasp. I focus all my energy on my eyes, and am rewarded with a blurry image of grey stone stairs and a boot. Boot . . . whose boot is that? Thump. I know that boot. Drag. My face doesn't respond to my inner urgings. I try to frown in concentration, but just wind up drooling on myself. The boot moves, and my field of vision is flooded by a thick red. The pain in my eye and my startlement almost cancel each other out, and I realize I'm lying on the ground.
"Your eye!" The kid who moves like lightning cries out, perched on my chest. "Is your eye . . . ?"
I open my eyes and, with difficulty, focus on the dark blur of his face. I have to blink several times before the field of thick crimson clears.
"Oh good!" His relief confuses me. "Why'd you do that? I thought you had pretty eyes!" His words are hurt, accusing.
A sound off to my left catches my attention, and I turn my head. Coming through the woods are that shady monk and—
"Gojyo!" It should have been a shout, but it is barely a croak, and only vaguely recognizable as a name. There is gray stone in front of me. Stairs. Being dragged up stairs. Someone next to me. The separate bits of information swirl around for what seems like forever and then a thick stripe of red swings in front of me. Red. Someone next to me. Gojyo.
"Go-jy-o…" I manage to form the name carefully, but my voice is no louder than a sigh. Did he hear me? Did I even say that out loud?
"Hey, Hakkai, you ok?"
I must have said it out loud. Gojyo sounds tired. What happened to Gojyo? The effort of thinking is exhausting. "Actually," I manage to gasp out, "I'm just barely managing to stay conscious." I focus on the stairs, the rhythm of Gojyo hauling me up, and use that to anchor my thoughts.
"Good. If you pass out again, I'm going to leave you behind, like I did those other guys."
Teasing, worry. Gojyo is worried. About me? What happened? What other guys? I scramble for something coherent to say.
This is the first and last time I carry a guy to bed, you got that?
"Because you're not carrying a guy to bed again, right?" There is a pause. Was that the right thing to say? Did it make sense? The stairs seem to tremble with each motion.
"Right. You got it."
I can't tell whether Gojyo's agreeing with me or not. The stairs are gone. Panic surges through me, giving me the strength to raise my head. Have I lost consciousness again? Where are the stairs? I'm not moving. I must have lost consciousness, because greens and blues swim through my field of vision. Sanzo is there, in my delirium, and Goku, and Homura. There is a towering boulder, and then it breaks apart and the pieces float and dance in the air. This can't be real; I must be unconscious on the stairs, with Gojyo going on ahead. The wavering dream-Sanzo is saying something; his words flow together like ribbons of nonsense. I open my mouth, and nonsense ribbons flutter out and go chasing Sanzo's through the crazy sky. I have no idea what I'm saying; none of this makes any sense. At least it's not a nightmare. Every so often I open my mouth and more word-ribbons come trailing out. Off in the distance, the dream-Goku and dream-Homura are . . . fighting? Dancing? I can't make it out. The dream-Homura winks out. I open my mouth to say something about it, but all that comes out is a ribbon. The dream-world erupts; streaks of white and green weave around crazily and erase the dancing bits of rock. The world breaks up and goes floating, and the streamers erase those bits, too. Then there is only black.
Thump. Gasp. Drag. Thump. Gasp. Drag. Thump. Again, the rhythmic concussions cause the image-fragments to scatter, and I find that by focusing on them, I can drag my wandering thoughts back together. Drag. Thump. Gasp. I can't scrape together the strength to open my eyes, but I assume it is Gojyo whose gasping breath I hear. Drag. Thump. I focus on the downward motion, anchoring my fragile consciousness to it. Drag. Downward motion? Yes, I am being dragged down stairs now. Did Gojyo do whatever it is he intended to do and come back for me? He must have.
Light washes over me. I drink the light in through my skin, like a tree, and discover the strength to open my eyes. Drag. Scrape. Drag. The stairs are gone; Gojyo is dragging me through . . . my mind recoils, assaulted by fragments of memory. Blood spraying. Claws flashing. Fragments of bone, chunks of flesh . . . the horrors I committed impact against my fragile consciousness and drive a gasp from my parched mouth. The red light of a sunrise pours into the hall from the shattered doorway, illuminating the carnage I left in my wake in harsh, unforgiving detail. It must be some cruel joke of the Heavens that this bloody environment seems to be steadily returning my strength. The fog that clouded my thoughts evaporates, leaving me horribly, completely rational. I have the strength to stand without aid, and even provide support to Gojyo and help him across the treacherous floor.
Hakuryuu glides up, chirping her concern. I extend my hand and she lands delicately, one foot on my wrist and the other on my bare finger to open the link between us. She's worried; my borrowed strength won't last. Goku and Gojyo are walking wounded, she communicates to me, and something is very wrong with Sanzo, but she doesn't know what.
Could you please take us to a large town, I ask her silently.
She ducks her head and chirps agreement, then glides outside. I focus on supporting Gojyo, whose strength seems to have run out, and eventually get him outside where Hakuryuu waits in jeep-form. He's barely conscious, and I have to bodily lift him into the back seat and prop him up. Goku climbs in silently and leans back, asleep in seconds. Hakuryuu was right, they're both severely wounded. Gojyo's covered in lacerations, and Goku looks like he fell down a mountain and broke the slope with his body. A momentary thought flashes through my head – what happened to them? – but I have no time to ponder it. My strength is leaving me as quickly as it came. I hurriedly climb into the driver's seat and am aware that Sanzo is looking at me. Can't risk looking at him – I'm fading fast.
"Hey, Hakkai. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"
The words come to me distorted; the world is fading out again. I force a reassuring smile onto my face and lock my hands around the steering wheel.
"I'm okay," I say quietly, and focus what's left of my attention on Hakuryuu. I'm going to pass out in a second. Can you get us to a good-sized town?
The engine revs reassuringly, and the last thing I am aware of is Hakuryuu moving carefully forward.